Authors: Andrew Puckett
‘Eh? Oh, anywhere near the centre.’
A couple of minutes later, he was dropped in the market square beside a phone booth. He lifted the receiver, waited till the man had gone, then ran across the road to the entrance to the close… Mary was sitting on a bench under the west front, smoking a cigarette beneath the disapproving gaze of at least fifty saints.
She shrank away as he approached her and he suddenly realised she hadn’t recognised him.
‘Mary, it’s me,’
‘Fraser?’
He dropped on to the seat beside her, kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you for coming, Mary. Did you get the clothes?’
‘Yes. They’re in my car.’ Still she stared at him.
‘Thanks…’ He hesitated. ‘I think we’d better go. I had to ditch the car outside Wells and the police might find it any minute.’
‘What car?’
‘I– er – borrowed one.’
Her bemusement turned to resignation as she stubbed out her cigarette and stood up. ‘I don’t know what you think you can achieve by this, Fraser.’
They started walking. He said, ‘You told me yourself that Frances needs me.’
She shook her head. ‘Not this way, Fraser…’
‘And I have an idea of how to prove I didn’t kill Connie – did you get the cassette recorder and the other stuff I asked for?’
She nodded. ‘It’s in the car, through here.’ She led him into the square where he’d been dropped a few minutes earlier. ‘Over here…’ She unlocked the Golf and brought out some bags.
Fraser looked round and saw a Gents. ‘I’ll change in there.’
‘Shirt and tie, jacket, trousers… underwear and shoes.’
He took them from her. ‘I hope you got a receipt.’
For the first time, she smiled at him – a wan smile, but a smile nevertheless. ‘And I’ve brought you a comb – goodness knows, you need one.’
He locked himself into a cubicle while he changed, then splashed water from the basin over his face and combed his hair – she was right, it needed it, and his face still felt rough…
‘Well, that’s certainly an improvement,’ she said as he got into the car and stowed the bags and overalls in the back. ‘It’s amazing what a tie can do… Your face looks sore, though.’
‘I’ll do something about it later.’
‘I’ve got a first-aid kit with some Germolene.’ She opened the glove box and handed it to him. There are paracetamols in there too – and I’ve brought you some food.’
‘Thanks, but let’s get out of here first.’
‘Which way?’
‘Avon.’
Once they were out of the tiny city, he swallowed some paracetamol, then rubbed Germolene into his face, wincing as it stung. Then he found the food she’d bought – a pasty, some sandwiches and a drink.
‘When did you last eat?’ she asked, watching him devour them from the corner of her eye.
‘Breakfast, and then not much. Too nervous.’
‘You had this planned, then?’
He nodded, his mouth full.
‘However did you manage it?’
He swallowed. ‘That is a hell of a long story…’ He told her briefly and she shook her head again.
‘They’ll put you in one of those maximum security places when they catch you.’
‘I’ve a few things to do first,’ he said. ‘Starting with seeing Frances.’
‘But won’t they be expecting you to do that?’ she asked.
‘They might, but I’m hoping they’re still looking for me in Weymouth at the moment.’
‘But they might have posted someone there, it’s a terrible risk…’
‘I’ve got to try, Mary – you can go ahead and check for me.’
She let out a groan.
‘How is she?’ he said quickly, trying to change the subject. ‘I’m sorry, I should’ve asked earlier.’
‘Well, she seems a little better. She’s had a lot of transfusions and Dr Saunders says he thinks he can induce another remission.’
‘D’you know what I’d really like to do?’
She shot him a glance but didn’t reply.
‘Marry her. Just find some official somewhere and make him marry us,’ He sighed. ‘Silly, isn’t it?’
She sighed. ‘It’s not silly at all, Fraser.’
They reached Avon and drove to the hospital. He waited impatiently while she went ahead to check. She was back after ten minutes and her face told him the worst.
‘There’s someone sitting outside her door, I’m sure it’s a plainclothes policeman.’
He leaned his head on the steering wheel, hit the rim several times with the palm of his hand… then he looked up.
‘
Outside
her room?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the door’s shut?’
‘Of course it is, she’s still under barrier nursing – why?’
‘The garden, I can get in through the garden. Does she know I’m here?’
‘Yes, I had to tell her – Fraser, you
can’t
—’
‘I
have
to… You go back inside and unlock the French window…
please
, Mary.’
He gave her five minutes, then walked to the entrance, looking out for any other police… down the corridor until he reached the door leading to the little garden… a quick look round, then through… He could see Mary’s face on the other side of the glass.
She opened the window and let him in.
For an instant, he thought they’d come to the wrong place – although he knew what the disease could do, he wasn’t prepared for the change in her. Then he realised Frances hadn’t recognised him, either.
‘Fraser?’
He went over and took her hand, unable to speak. He kissed it, pressed it into his face… kissed her mouth, cheeks, eyes…
‘Oh, you silly man,’ she said, ‘they’ll catch you.’
‘I
had
to come—’
‘Quiet!’ hissed Mary. She went over to the door and listened.
Frances said, ‘They’ll catch you and I’ll never see you again…’ Her cheeks were wet.
‘You will, I promise you…’
She clung to him, eyes closed… then at last, she held him at arm’s length, looking at him.
‘You know,’ she said, her voice still shaky, ‘I think I preferred you with the beard.’
‘Aye, I know,’ he said. ‘When I looked in the mirror, I remembered why I’d grown it in the first place.’
She smiled, sad-happily. ‘It’ll grow back.’
And as she smiled, he saw the same unchanging person look out of her eyes.
‘Yeah. I couldn’t wait that long, though. How’re you feeling?’
‘Better than last week.’
‘I wish I could stay.’
‘So do I.’
He left five minutes later.
Frances hadn’t known Leo’s address, so he tried Directory Enquiries on a phone in the corridor, only to be told that Leo was ex-directory.
So while Mary went to wait in the car, Fraser called the lab to make sure it was empty, then walked quickly up to the door and punched the numbers into the security lock…
Please God they haven’t changed it…
They hadn’t: it clicked and the door swung open. He went through to Ian’s office, turned on the light and started looking for an address book…
Not on the desk, try the drawers – Ah! He checked Leo’s address was in it, then slipped the book into his pocket.
Anything else he could do? No, not enough time…
He left as quietly as he’d come, walked out of the main entrance and towards Mary’s car
– there were people with her, Agnes and Jones…
He switched direction, aware that Jones had turned round. Mary must have glanced over at him… He rounded a corner, started running… through a door, into a corridor, and back into the flower shop, from where he could see them…
It was all right, they were heading for the main entrance. He watched them go in, then went cautiously back to Mary.
‘You saw them?’ she gabbled as she drove off. ‘God, I thought they’d never go and then you came…’
‘What did they want?’
They were going to see Frances,’
‘Did they say anything about me?’
‘No, nothing.’
‘I saw Jones looking round at me, did he—?’
‘I’m sure he didn’t recognise you, I’d have known if he had.’
She drove to a taxi rank and got out of the car.
‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Fraser,’ she said.
So do I
, he thought as he drove away.
He stopped to look up Leo’s road in the A–Z, then drove over to it and past Leo’s house. It wasn’t dark yet, but the curtains were drawn and he could see a chink of light between them.
He stopped about fifty yards away and switched off the engine. He took a deep breath. Stuffing the cassette player into one pocket and the cord into another, he got out, locked the car and walked to the house. Rang the bell.
As it sounded, it suddenly occurred to him that there might be a chain – too late now…
The door opened – no chain – and before Leo could react, Fraser shoved him backwards and followed him in, slamming the door behind him with a foot. Leo staggered against the hall wall, recovered – didn’t waste time shouting, just picked up a solid glass ball from a table and flung it at him.
It caught his shoulder, knocking him off balance before falling to the carpet with a thud as Leo charged him head down and caught him in the belly. He fell back winded with Leo on top of him. Leo grabbed the glass ball again and tried to bring it down on his head, but Fraser caught his wrist… They struggled, Leo clawing at Fraser’s eyes with his free hand, then Fraser heaved his body like a bronco and threw him off.
Leo still had the ball. He swung it at Fraser’s head, caught the tip of his nose as he jerked back. The ball flew out of his hand. Fraser swivelled round on his hips, lashed with his right and caught Leo’s nose… Again, and this time his fist connected with the point of his jaw and he collapsed.
He wasn’t completely unconscious though, just groggy.
Fraser flipped him over, tied his wrists with cord, then hauled him to his feet and marched him down the hall to the kitchen, where he tied him to a chair.
Leo’s eyes opened and tried to focus. ‘What do you want…?’ His voice was quavering. ‘Money? You can have all I’ve got here…’
Fraser found another chair and sat facing him. ‘Do you not know who I am, Leo?’
Leo’s eyes widened – he hadn’t, but he did now.
‘Fraser… Oh my God… What do you want?’
‘The truth.’
‘Sure… anything…’
Fraser rose from his chair, picked up the electric kettle, filled it with water from the tap and plugged it in.
‘Wh-what are you doing?’ Leo asked.
‘Boiling some water.’
‘Why…?’
Fraser sat down again and stared at him.
‘Frances is in hospital, dying – in part because of the drug
you
pushed on to her while I was away—’
‘That’s not true, Fraser.’
‘D’you think I’d have allowed her to go on it if I’d been here? You pushed it on to Connie and she pushed it on to Frances.’
Behind him, the kettle began to grumble.
‘Fraser, honestly, we all thought Alkovin was OK…
more
than OK… I told you, remember? I told you it could save her life and I meant it.’
‘Are you trying to tell me you knew nothing about the side-effects?’
‘
Yes
… you
know
I didn’t, I kept telling you I didn’t…’
‘That’s the wrong answer, Leo. Sam Weisman had been saying it, John Somersby knew about it.’
Behind him, the kettle was murmuring…
‘We thought Weisman was a nutter, we’d done our own tests and found nothing.’
‘So you did know about Weisman?’
‘Sure. You told Connie when you came back – remember?’
‘No, I mean before – you knew before that,
didn’t
you?’
‘No…’
‘And then
I
told you that our patients were getting depressed – I produced the evidence and you ignored it.’
‘We
didn’t
ignore it, we simply didn’t think it was significant.’
‘That’s the wrong answer, Leo.’
Behind him, the kettle clicked itself off as it boiled.
Fraser got up and unplugged it, then filled a jug with cold water and put them both in his reach. Then he sat down again.
‘Look at me, Leo, look at my face… you’re looking at someone with nothing to lose. My fiancée’s dying and I’m in prison charged with murder, not even allowed to see her. Nothin’ to lose, see? In a minute, if I don’t start hearing the truth from you, I’m going to pour this kettle over your legs—’
Leo was shaking his head. ‘You wouldn’t…’ he whispered.
‘—and then over your balls.’ Fraser paused, continued: ‘So, Leo – the truth. Parc-Reed
must
have known about Weisman’s results by the time you started pushing the stuff over here… right?’
Leo’s mouth worked silently and his eyes hunted to and fro… then he said. ‘All right, yes, we did know about Weisman’s results, but we thought he was cracked…’