Ann Purser - The Hangman’s Row Enquiry

“Have you any idea who was in your cottage waiting to attack you? You said three words when I found you on the mat: ‘Has he gone?’ Then you passed out again.”

“Ah,” he said calmly, “yes, I have an idea, but I don’t think he was expecting me to return so soon. He’d have been after my papers, notes I made a couple of years ago. I’m sure he clonked me one so’s he could get away fast.”

Deirdre raised her eyebrows. “Must have been very important papers?” she said. “Important enough for you not to tell the local police about an intruder?”

“Got it in one, clever Deirdre. Although the case was closed, there were some questions left unanswered, and those who were caught and duly punished were after evidence to get them off the hook. And I’m afraid that’s all I can say. Perhaps we could leave it there, all three of us? Confidentiality, you know. All people need to know is that I fell downstairs and knocked myself out.”

“Pooh! You mean you like having a glamorous past! Well, I shall say no more, and I’ll keep what you told me to myself. But I can’t help being curious, especially as I can’t believe a word you say.”

“Time’s up, Mrs. Bloxham,” said an approaching nurse. “Gus is much better, but we don’t want to prejudice his chances of going home, do we?”

“Not going home,” said Gus, grateful for the interruption. “My friend has arranged for two weeks’ luxury care at Springfields residential home. But when I do go home I mean to be careful not to trip myself up again, especially going downstairs.”

The nurse knew that his notes told a different story, but she tactfully did not contradict him. Deirdre, too, remembered her promise, and reluctantly nodded her head.

“You’ll die of boredom in Springfields!” the nurse said. She quite fancied Gus. Charming man, all the girls had agreed.

“Best possible thing to get him going again,” said Deirdre, rising to her feet. “He’ll not be able to get away from the demon whist players and juicy jellies fast enough.”

MIRIAM BLAKE HAD cadged a lift from Rose Budd, who was going supermarket shopping in Tresham. The four-by-four smelt of sheep, and Rose’s little son was doing his best to fight his way out of the safety harness, but Miriam steeled herself. There was no other means of transport. No buses today, and it was too far to even think of cycling.

She had been horrified when she heard about Gus’s accident. The stairs in her own cottage were lethal. Her mother had never stopped complaining about them. Miriam dreamed of a modern bungalow, one of those for elderly people up in the village. She knew that the rules could be bent to allow younger, needy people to rent the bungalows, and once the murder thing had settled down she intended to put herself on the list. She would feel safe there.

Now she had put on her best dress and shoes, and meant to visit Gus in the hospital. She would be her sweetest self and be sure to capture his affection while he was vulnerable and lonely. She hummed a little tune, and looked out at the passing landscape.

“You sound happy, Miriam,” Rose said. She didn’t like her, but felt sorry for the woman who was now alone and thought by too many of the villagers to have done in her old mother. There was some sympathy for Miriam Blake, however, as Rose had discovered whilst waiting to be served in the village shop. Three old tabs had been gossiping and reckoned that Miriam’s mother had been a nasty old woman, selfish and stingy, and had made her daughter’s life a misery.

“It’s nice to get out of the village,” replied Miriam. “Shame we haven’t got more buses. Still, when everything’s sorted out, I’m hoping to get myself a little car, then I’ll be more mobile.”

“You’d have to take a test, of course,” said Rose.

“Oh no, dear,” Miriam answered. “When I was working as a telephonist, I had a nice little Ford. Passed my test first time, and buzzed about very happily. It was after Mother fell ill, when I had to give up work and could hardly ever leave her, that I decided to sell it. Not worth the licence an’ insurance an’ all that. I was a bit sad,” she said, and then added that the car had been a present from an admirer.

Rose decided this was a joke, and then was distracted by seeing her son nearly upside down in the backseat, still anchored to his harness. “Can you straighten him out, Miriam? Thank goodness we’re nearly there.”

Miriam gave Simon a surreptitious push, harder than was necessary, and got him upright. “Perhaps he’d like a sweet?” she asked. She had very little experience of small children, but remembered that sweeties were always popular. She pulled out a packet of fiercely spiced Fisherman’s Friend cough sweets, and Rose was only just quick enough to prevent her giving one of them to her precious toddler. “Here we are!” she said brightly, and came to a halt with relief in the supermarket car park.

“See you at half past four, then,” Miriam said. “I can get a bus up to the hospital. Only takes five minutes, and they’re really frequent. Bye, have a nice shop!” She marched off cheerfully, and Rose lifted out Simon and set him down. “There we are, my love,” she said. “You can’t help feeling sorry for Mr. Halfhide, can you!”

“Sweeties,” said Simon distinctly.

“ANOTHER VISITOR, GUS!” the nurse said. “Have you got a fan club, or what?”

Gus’s heart sank when he saw his greatest fan walking humbly towards his bed, clutching a large bunch of red roses. Must have cost her a fortune, he thought. He did not miss the significance of red roses, and was not sure that he felt strong enough to resist her advances.

“Nurse,” he whispered urgently.

“Need the loo?” she said, bending down to listen.

“No. Get rid of this one as soon as poss, if you don’t want a relapse on your hands.”

The nurse straightened up. “Good afternoon,” she said sternly. “I am afraid Mr. Halfhide is feeling rather tired at the moment. We have to be careful with this sort of injury, so please limit your visit to not more than ten minutes. Thank you, dear,” she added kindly, smitten with conscience at the way Miriam’s face fell.

“Miriam,” said Gus weakly. “How nice of you to come and see me. Sit down on that chair. As nurse says, I am not so good at the moment, but just tired. You do the talking. Tell me what’s new in Barrington.”

Miriam was reassured. She smiled lovingly at him and launched on a long account of the iniquities of Beattie Beatty, who had summoned her to the Hall and more or less told her she would either have to pay more rent, or find another place to live.

“And what’s more,” she added, “the increase in my rent is ridiculous. I can’t possibly afford that much, and the old devil knows it. I shall be looking for a job, of course, but it’s not that easy when you’ve been out of circulation for so long.”

Gus realised that this could lead somewhere interesting, and called to a passing nurse. “Would you be able to find us a cup of tea?” he said, with his winning smile. “I’m feeling a bit better now, and I’m sure Miss Blake would like one.”

Miriam flushed and said that it must be her presence that had bucked him up so quickly. “I shall come again soon,” she said.

“Stay for your tea,” Gus said. “I’m so sorry about the rent increase. Couldn’t you see Mr. Roussel about it? He must be able to override Beattie’s decisions, surely?” After all, he remembered, Miriam had been Theo’s bran tub for quite a while. And, of course, she was a blood relation. He wondered again if Beattie knew this.