False Alarm (33 page)

Bea tried to move the woman's hand and failed. Curse her weakness! That lobster had a lot to answer for. ‘Mrs Emerson, when you arrived, you asked me to use my influence with the police to get Carrie a proper hearing. Now you say you don't want her disturbed. What is it you really want?'

‘I want the police to know why she's seen fit to end her life so that you can get them to close the case.'

‘Nothing I can say would be of interest to the police. I have no first-hand knowledge of events, and I don't think they'd accept my word for it that it was Carrie who brought about three deaths.'

‘You refuse to help me? And Carrie at death's door?'

‘I see no reason for her to attempt suicide. What I do see is that you have a motive for silencing her. You want her to take the blame for bringing about all those deaths, whereas it was really you who was responsible. Am I right?'

‘You think that I . . . Oh no! How could you!'

‘If you're innocent, then prove it by letting me phone the police. Please, take your hand off me.'

Lucy clung on, glancing back at the clock. ‘It's too soon. What good would it do to bring her back now, to face months of doctors and tests and spend the rest of her life in a locked ward, in a state of drug-induced dependency? That would be no act of friendship, would it?'

‘On the other hand, she might revive enough to accuse you of being a three-times killer?'

‘What nonsense! I thought I could rely on you—'

‘To do what? Back up your story? Allow Carrie time to die? I'm not in the business of deciding who lives and who dies. Now, please take your hand away so that I can call the police.'

Mrs Emerson glared at the clock. ‘You really are the most stupid woman I've ever met. Well, I've tried reason, and you've refused to listen, so you've brought it on yourself—'

Lucy hefted her stick, swinging it up and round as if she were on the golf course. Bea ducked and threw herself sideways . . .

‘G
otcha!' The inspector wrestled the stick out of Mrs Emerson's hand, even as it whistled past where Bea's head ought to have been.

The woman opened her mouth and screamed.

Bea, sweating, stumbled to the door and held on to it.

That was a close call.

The inspector turned Lucy round and thrust her back on to the settee. She gulped and was silent, gazing at them with huge eyes.

He said to Bea, ‘I didn't leave when she came.'

‘No, I hoped you wouldn't.'

‘You left the door open so that I could hear everything she said. And I did. I've already phoned the police to get round to the flats and check on Mrs Kempton.'

‘Oliver might still be quickest.' Once more she reached for her landline and this time succeeded in pressing buttons. ‘Pick up, Oliver!'

‘Try Maggie?'

‘No, no. She's out at work.'

Lucy recovered her nerve. She was even smiling. ‘You'll be too late. She'll be gone by the time you get there, and I'll be the only one left to tell the tale.'

‘Pick up, Oliver!'

Oliver picked up. ‘Hello?'

‘Oliver, this is an emergency. We're worried about Mrs Kempton. Can you—'

‘What's going on? I've just been downstairs to let a couple of policemen in, but they wouldn't say what for, except that they needed to speak to Mrs Kempton urgently. They can't get any answer at her flat, so I told them to come up here to the penthouse and go down the fire escape at the back. They seem to think something's happened to her. I thought Mrs Emerson might know, and I'm just about to go down to her place to see if she can help.'

Bea said, ‘Lucy's here. Get hold of the caretaker. He's got keys to both their flats. Carrie could be in either – and hurry! I think she needs medical help!'

‘Too late, too late!' sang Lucy.

The inspector was on his own mobile. ‘Yes, break the door down if necessary. Oh, you're on the fire escape? Get in through the kitchen, then. Which floor are you on? . . . Ah. Good . . .' He caught Bea's eye. ‘One on each floor.'

Lucy laughed. ‘If you break down my door, I'll sue you!'

Bea was holding on to her phone. ‘Oliver, are you there, still? You're on your way down the fire escape? Good. Lucy says Carrie may have taken some pills . . . Perhaps you can warn the police . . .? Ah, they're breaking into the flat now? . . . And . . .?' She listened for a while.

Let her phone arm drop.

Spoke to the inspector. ‘They've found her. She's dead.'

Lucy laughed. There were tears on her cheeks. ‘Oh, my precious little friend. Oh, oh! Now there's no one to tell the tale but me.'

‘Oh yes, there is,' said Bea. ‘I lied just then. They found her. She's unconscious but still alive. And the paramedics are on their way.'

The inspector rang, early. ‘They pumped Mrs Kempton's stomach out. She's very weak, but they think she'll be all right. She wants to talk. I'm going in to see her now. Would you like to meet me there? You know what's been happening better than I and can pick it up if there are any inconsistencies in her statement.'

When Bea got to the hospital, she found that Carrie was in a private room with a policeman sitting outside her door. The inspector got clearance from the nursing staff that it was all right to talk to the old lady for a while and took Bea in with him. Carrie lay back on the bed, looking as frail as old lace – and about the same colour.

The inspector said, ‘Mrs Kempton, do you feel well enough to tell us what happened?'

A nod. ‘I'll try. Oh dear, how awful this all is.' There were tears in her eyes.

The inspector said, ‘You've had a rough time. I'm not going to ask you to make a formal statement now, though I will take some notes. When you're better, you can come into the station and tell us everything.'

She nodded. ‘I don't want to see her again. How could she!'

‘Let's start at the beginning, with Lavinia's death. How did that come about?'

‘I suppose it was my fault, really. Lavinia caught us as we came in. We were both very tired. Lucy went to call the lift but Lavinia got hold of my arm, wanting me to go straight out again and fetch her something from the chemist. I fear I was sharp with her. She threatened me with her stick, and I tried to step back out of reach but she caught me a blow on my shoulder. It hurt! Lucy got hold of the stick and twisted it out of her hand, and Lavinia sort of slid sideways on to the floor and died. There and then, in front of us. I was so shocked. Lucy helped me up to my flat and made me lie down. Then she phoned the police. I would have said something about the stick, but Lucy said not to because it wasn't anybody's fault. She told me to say we'd found her lying on the floor, dead. I agreed, but I wished Lucy hadn't kept Lavinia's stick . . . She gets dizzy spells, you know. She did have a stick she got from the hospital, but she preferred Lavinia's.'

‘Labyrinthitis?'

‘I don't know what the name is, but she gets some pills from the doctor for it.'

‘That can be checked.'

The freckled hands plucked at the sheet. ‘We've been friends for so long . . . We've had such good times together . . . I even said she should move in with me when her contract ran out.'

‘You have keys to one another's flats?'

‘Of course.'

‘When did you first suspect Lucy had set the trap for Sir Lucas on the stairs?'

‘It wasn't meant for him, but for Lady Ossett. Only, she went out for the evening and he was caught instead. I told Lucy that was very naughty of her, and she promised not to do it again.'

‘It was she who poisoned the cat Momi?'

A half smile. ‘That cat used to dig up the plants in Lucy's pots. He was a pest. I don't like cats much, either.'

‘You must have realized Lady Ossett would be very frightened by the cat's death?'

‘Well, yes. But as Lucy said, she deserved it, and there was no great harm done, was there?'

‘Did she tell you she'd pushed the caretaker over the edge?'

‘No, no. Surely she didn't! She couldn't! Oh, I can't think!' Tears. Real tears.

Bea said, ‘Would you like some water, Carrie?' And held the cup while the old lady took a sip or two.

‘You're doing so well,' said the inspector. ‘Now, if you can just keep going a little longer . . . Tell us what happened when the caretaker died.'

‘I really don't know. We were both up and down the stairs, in and out of the lift, trying to find someone to release poor Harvey. I think I must have been downstairs talking to the young couple on the ground floor when the caretaker fell, but of course we didn't find out about it till Mrs Abbot spotted him. He wasn't a very nice person, but . . . Oh dear.'

‘You asked Lucy about it afterwards?'

Carrie's eyelids flickered. ‘I'm sure it must have been an accident.' In other words, she'd suspected it hadn't been but had decided not to confront her friend about it.

‘And Harvey's death?'

‘Poor Harvey.' Tears welled up. ‘He used to love my carrot cake. It was my turn to make a cake for tea, and we usually took some down to him, but that day it was snowing and I had a sore throat, so Lucy went down with a piece for him.'

Bea intervened. ‘What did you put in the chocolate biscuits you brought down for us the other day?'

‘They weren't mine, dear. They were Lucy's. I'd run out of cocoa powder, so she made them instead. She bakes lovely cakes.' Again tears welled.

‘But these biscuits made us ill.'

‘Really, dear? I wonder why. She did say they were rather special, but I didn't have any because I was eating up some of her Victoria sponge which she'd made the day before, which wasn't quite fresh but still very pleasant.'

‘She warned you not to try the chocolate biscuits?'

‘I don't remember. Maybe she did . . . Oh dear, this is all so terrible!'

The inspector pressed on. ‘You must have discussed the matter with your friend and wondered where all these deaths would end.'

A nod. ‘We agreed it was just too awful for words, and that it would probably end in tears, but I didn't imagine . . . Not really . . . She couldn't! But if she did . . . Poor Lucy. She seemed so normal, but she must have been suffering so much.'

‘She says you tried to commit suicide.'

‘Oh no, dear. I would never do that.'

‘So why did you swallow all your sleeping pills?'

‘I don't have any. Well, only some herbal tablets, but they're harmless. It's true I had been feeling a little run down, the anxiety you know, so many terrible things happening. Lucy brought me some hot chocolate and said I should drink it, and I did . . . and I never thought, not once, that she'd turn on me. Oh dear, oh dear . . .'

Carrie closed her eyes and turned her head away. No more questions.

The inspector and Bea left the ward together, leaving a police officer behind to take a formal statement from Mrs Kempton when she was sufficiently recovered.

The inspector said, ‘Lucy blames Carrie. Carrie says she really didn't know anything. I have my notes, but even if Carrie recovers sufficiently to give us a proper statement, would it stand up in court? Would it be sufficient to convince the Director of Prosecutions to act? And if not, where's the proof that Lucy is a murderer and ought to be locked up?'

Bea shrugged. ‘Lucy tried to kill Carrie with a hot drink laced with sleeping pills – which were not Carrie's. I expect you can find the doctor's prescription for the sleeping pills and the treatment for Lucy's labyrinthitis in her flat. And she did attack me. Thank you for saving my life, by the way.'

‘Think nothing of it. We'll check with Lucy's doctor, of course, and if he confirms the pills were for her, then that will help. But, unless we get a confession, we'll have to go with the attack she made on you, and you'll have to testify in court. Are you prepared to do that?'

‘Yes. But you've arrested Lucy and will keep her in custody?'

‘I have and I will – provided she doesn't produce a tame solicitor with a silver tongue who can get her out on bail.'

Bea grinned. ‘Not if Sir Lucas is told who caused his fall down the stairs. I'm sure a word from him might result in a failure of nerve on the part of most solicitors. He's a powerful man; let's make use of him for once.'

‘Hah! A good thought. I'll see that he is informed straight away. You're looking much better today, Mrs Abbot. Back to your usual form, I take it? May I give you a lift back home?'

‘My mother is a cow!' Maggie wept. ‘And I feel guilty, even thinking that!'

Bea put on her most reasonable tone of voice. ‘Your mother is a past master – or mistress, if you prefer it – of the art of making people feel guilty, but in this case I really can't see she's got much to complain about. Sir Lucas is giving her the penthouse and a more than comfortable amount to live on, she's got the Professor dangling after her, and she's sure to pick up some more admirers on her cruise to the West Indies in the New Year. Tell her you'll only hamper her style if she keeps asking you to accompany her.'

Maggie stifled a giggle. ‘Do you think I dare?'

‘Of course you can,' said Oliver, who was frowning over a list he was making. ‘What's more important is who we invite to our end-of-year party. I've got Max's list; he keeps adding to it everyday—'

‘Forget his list,' said Bea. ‘I see no reason to hold a party just so that he can return favours to the important people he knows. Nor, may I add, do I see any point in inviting the directors of Holland and Butcher to celebrate a merger which I'm pretty sure I don't want. I am not, repeat not, going to give a party for business reasons.'