“Now then,” the nurse said. “How are we feeling today?”
“I don’t know about you,” said Jack Jr., “but I’m feeling fine. I hope the doctor will say I can go home today.”
“Ah, well, we shall just have to wait and see. Now, do you want anything?”
“To go home,” said Jack Jr., on the principle that if you said something often enough it was bound to happen.
The nurse had read his notes, where he was described as a mixed-up, feisty youngster, who needed firm handling. “Patience is a virtue,” she recited gently, “possess it if you can, seldom in a woman, never in a man.”
“If I’m a man,” retorted Jack Jr., “why am I in a sodding children’s ward?”
“No beds free in the men’s ward. One of them occupied by your father, I believe? Would you like a visit from him? I know he’s walking about.”
Jack Jr. considered this, and said he thought his dad would be coming down later to see him anyway. He needed some more thinking time before he rehearsed what he would say to the police. His dad would know at once if he was lying, but now he had no need to lie. The steering had not been checked, and the garage man had said it was loose. That was all he needed to say to anyone who asked.
“OF COURSE YOU MUST GO IN TO SEE HIM,” LOIS SAID FIRMLY TO Paula, who had called her to say would it be all right if she got Floss to fill in for her at the hall this afternoon.
“And don’t worry about asking Floss. I’ll do your hours myself. I’d quite like a chat with Mrs. T-J. I bet she’s impossible now she’s the soap box champion. Still, she did do well, the dear old thing. She’s put Farnden WI on the map! Several calls have come through from newspapers and telly people, and not all wanting to know about the accident. Jam & Jerusalem is a star!”
“Thanks, Mrs. M,” Paula said. “The kids are taken care of, and I can take in my two Jacks in one fell swoop!”
“Oh, right,” said Lois. She wondered whether she could sound out Paula on the husband and wife situation, and decided against it. None of her business, Derek would say. She wished Paula well, and said to give her regards to young Jack. “He’s in the news at the moment,” she added, “but he’ll soon drop out of it again, so don’t let him get too bigheaded.”
Paula said that now she would have Jack’s father to help control him, she reckoned her wayward son was going to be a lot easier to handle in the future. So there’s my answer, thought Lois.
Gran came in with coffee, and asked who had been on the phone. Lois was tempted to tell her it was a business call, but then relented and gave her a brief account of Paula’s call.
“Oh, that’s great,” said Gran, “and not before time. A boy needs his father, especially at young Jack’s age. I’m off now,” she added. “Triumphant meeting of the WI Jam & Jerusalem committee.”
“But you weren’t on it,” Lois objected.
“I’m deputizing for you,” said Gran. “I told them you’d be too busy this morning, but I knew you’d want to spend some time with Jamie before he goes back.”
Old bag, that was meant to be a subtle reminder, said Lois to herself, but she smiled. Still, she’s right. But first, a call to my friendly neighbourhood policeman.
“Morning, Lois,” said Cowgill. “How are you, and how’s your clever husband? A great day yesterday. Must have raised a mint for the village hall refurbishment?”
“Not counted up yet. Anyway, that’s not what I’m ringing about. What’s more, you know it’s not.”
“Right. So what exactly did happen in the last race? Chris is going in to see the Hickson boy this afternoon, and anything you can tell us would be a great help.”
“Before we get on to that,” Lois said, “Derek says it’s possible Rebellion’s steering was faulty. He was supposed to have got John Thornbull to check it, but thinks he may have forgot. Now let’s talk about the man who was killed. You’ve checked, I expect?”
“He had no identification on him, but you know who he was, don’t you, Lois. Come on, light of my life, save me some valuable police time.”
“Hunter Cowgill,” said Lois, “don’t push me too far. Think back. Jack Hickson Sr. had a major bust up at Parks and Gardens, and injured a man who’d quarrelled with him. So, if you remember that Jack Hickson Sr. was standing next to the man who died, and a knife had been drawn a couple of seconds before Rebellion crashed into them, doesn’t that make you wonder?”
“What are you saying, Lois? Do you mean young Jack’s father killed him?”
“No, not that way round, stupid! The man flashing the knife was after Jack Sr., aiming to settle a score. It was when he fell backwards and hit his head on the bollard that he bought it. Got it? I don’t know his name, but I’ll probably find out. Just tell Chris to go easy on young Jack. What happens next will probably affect the rest of his life. Let me know how it goes. Please.”
Cowgill heard her end the call and remained staring at the receiver. Then he called for his assistant, Chris, saying that on no account was she to go to the hospital without talking to him first. Then he asked her to get him John Thornbull on the phone straightaway.
THE SHOP HAD BEEN MUCH BUSIER THAN WAS USUAL ON A MONDAY morning, but now there was a lull, and Josie sat down on her stool behind the counter and looked through the morning paper. She wondered if the Dutch company story was in the business section. It was, with many distressing details. The door opened and she looked up. It was Matthew Vickers, in uniform and with a broad grin on his face. “Love you,” he said, by way of a greeting. “Will you marry me? If not, I shall be forced to take you down to the station, and warn you that anything you do say may be given in evidence.”
Josie stared at him. “Have you been drinking?” she said. “And in uniform, too? I shall be forced to report you to your superior. And, since you asked me so romantically, the answer is…” She hesitated dramatically, and then said in a very small voice, “Yes, please.”
SIXTY-THREE
LOIS AND JAMIE WANDERED ROUND THE MARKETPLACE IN Tresham, looking idly at a number of stalls set out under a big banner advertising a charity event. Twenty charities were represented, selling a variety of handmade and commercially produced goods. Each had its display and piles of leaflets explaining who they were and why they needed money.
“There she is!” Lois said suddenly.
“Who?”
“Dot,” said Lois. “I knew she’d be here. Come on, let’s go over and speak to her.”
Jamie frowned. So this is why his mother had mysteriously suggested they might go into town to do some shopping this afternoon. It was not exactly what he would have chosen to do in his brief time at home, but she had been insistent. Now he remembered who Dot was. She was a Nimmo, and he’d been at school with one of the latest generation. That one had been an engaging character, certainly, and no fool. But he did as little work as possible, and could not wait to leave school and join his father’s gang of small-time crooks.
Mum was after information, and Dot would be the source.
They approached the Alzheimer’s Society stall, and Dot beamed. “This is your Jamie, then?” she said, stretching out her hand. Jamie shook it firmly and smiled back. These Nimmos were irresistible.
“Pleased to meet you,” continued Dot. “I’m sorry to ask you the minute we’ve met, but would you be an angel and get me a bottle of lager from the pub over there? I’m dying of thirst. Here, here’s the money.”
So, she wants a private word with Mum, he thought, as he crossed the busy square to the King’s Arms.
“Tell me quick,” said Lois.
“His name is Ross, well, sometimes Ross, and his sister lives down by the canal. He’s no good, never has been. Mixed up with drugs and more than likely responsible for the death of that addict girl what was in the paper recently. In trouble for lurking outside school gates. Here, I’ve written down the rest. Addresses and so on. Go on, put it in yer bag. Jamie’s coming back.”
“Thanks, Dot,” Lois said, and then turned around to Jamie. “This is a good cause, son,” she said. “It won’t be long before me and your dad will need its help.”
All three laughed politely, and then Dot was nobbled by a friend from Sebastopol Street.
“Come on, Mum,” Jamie said. “Let’s get a coffee and a huge, creamy chocolate éclair. Do they still have them over in the Royal Café?
“Why else would I bring you to market?” Lois said, with a sideways glance at him.
“Huh,” he said, and took her arm. “There’s no answer to that, Mrs. M,” he added fondly.