Питер Ловси - Do Not Exceed the Stated Dose [Stories]

“I just killed my husband.”

The sergeant bent closer to the glass. “You what?”

“I came in to confess.”

“Hang about, ma’am. Where did this happen?”

“At home. 32, Collinson Road.”

“He’s there now?”

“His body is.”

“Collinson Road. I ought to know it.”

“Twerton.”

The sergeant gestured to a woman police officer behind him and told her to get a response car out to Twerton. Then he asked the woman, “What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Trish Noble.”

“Trish for Patricia?”

“Yes”

“And your husband’s name?”

“Glenn.”

“What happened, Mrs Noble?”

“He was in a drunken stupor at four in the afternoon when I came in from work, so I was that mad that I threw a teapot at him. Cracked him on the head. It killed him. Is that murder? Will I go to prison?”

“A china teapot?”

“Half full of tea. I’ve always had this wicked temper.”

“Are you sure he’s dead? Maybe you only stunned him.”

She shook her head. “He’s gone all right. I’m a ward sister, and I know.”

“A nurse?”

“Shocking, isn’t it?”

“You’d better come in and sit down,” said the sergeant. “Go to the door on your right. Someone will see you right away.”

The someone was Superintendent Peter Diamond, the senior detective on duty that afternoon. Diamond was head of the murder squad and this looked like a domestic incident, but as homicide had apparently occurred, he was in duty bound to take an interest. He made quite a courtesy of pulling forward a low, upholstered chair for the woman, then spoilt the effect by seating himself in another with a bump as his knees refused his buttocks a dignified descent. He had a low centre of gravity. A rugby forward in years past, he was better built now for anchorman in a tug-of-war team. “You’re a nurse, I understand, Mrs Noble?”

“Sister on one of the orthopaedic wards.”

“Locally?”

“The Royal United.”

“So...?”

“I came off duty and when I got home Glenn — that’s my husband — was the worse for liquor.”

“You mean drunk?”

“Whatever you want to call it.” She closed her eyes, as if that might shut out the memory.

Mild as milk, Diamond said, “You came in from work and saw him where?”

“In the kitchen.”

“Did you have words?”

“He wasn’t capable of words. I saw red. That’s the way I am. I picked up the teapot—”

“You’d made tea?”

“No. I’d only just come in.”

“So he’d made tea?”

“No, it was still on the table from breakfast, half-full, really heavy. It’s a family sized pot. I picked it up and swung it at him. Hit him smack on the forehead. The pot smashed. There was tea all over his face and chest. He collapsed. First, I thought it was the drink. I couldn’t believe I’d hit him that hard. He’d stopped breathing. I could get nothing from his pulse. I lay him out on the floor and tried mouth-to-mouth, but it was no good.”

She conveyed a vivid picture, the more spectacular considering what a scrap she was. She spoke calmly, her pale blue eyes scarcely blinking. I wouldn’t mind mouth-to-mouth from you, sister, Diamond incorrectly thought.

The door behind him opened and someone looked in, a sergeant. “A word in your ear, sir.”

Diamond wasn’t getting out of that chair. He put a thumb and forefinger to the lobe of his right ear.

The sergeant bent over and muttered, “Report just in from the house, sir. Body in the kitchen confirmed.”

Diamond nodded and asked Mrs Noble, “You said this happened at four in the afternoon?”

“Yes.”

“It’s twenty to six now.”

“Is it?”

“Quite a long time since it happened.”

“I’ve been walking the streets, getting a grip on myself.”

“You’re doing OK,” Diamond told her, and meant it. She was a nurse and used to containing her feelings, but this was a stern test. He admired her self-control and he was inclined to believe her story, even if it had strange features. “You didn’t think of phoning us?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Earlier, I mean. When it happened.”

“No point. He was beyond help.”

He offered her a hot drink for the shock — and just stopped short of mentioning tea.

She declined.

“You said you saw red at finding him drunk,” he recapped.

Her face tensed. “I disapprove of drink.”

“Was he in work?”

She shook her head. “He was one of those printers laid off from Regency Press a year ago.”

“Was he still unemployed?”

“Yes.”

“Depressed?”

“Certainly not.”

“It must have been difficult managing after he lost his job,” Diamond said, giving her the chance to say something in favour of her dead husband.

“Not at all. He got good redundancy terms. And I’m earning as well.”

“I meant perhaps he was drowning his sorrows?”

“What sorrows?”

“This afternoon bout was exceptional?”

“Very.”

“Which was what upset you?”

She gave a nod. “It’s against my religion.”

Diamond treated the statement as if she were one of those earnest people in suits who knock on doors and ask whether you agree that God’s message has relevance in today’s world. He ignored it. “You’re a nurse, Mrs Noble, and I imagine you’re trained to spot the symptoms of heavy drinking, so I don’t want you to be insulted by this question. What made you decide that your husband was drunk?”

“The state of him. He was slumped in a chair, his eyes were glazed, he couldn’t put two words together. And the brandy bottle was on the table in front of him. The brandy he was given as a leaving present. He promised me he’d got rid of it.”

“Didn’t he like brandy?”

“It’s of the devil.”

“Had he drunk from the bottle?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“Had he ever used drugs in any form?”

She frowned. “Alcohol is a drug.”

“You know what I mean, Mrs Noble.”

“And I’ve seen plenty of drug-users,” she riposted. “I know what to look for.”

“No question of drugs?”

“No question.”

“Did he look for another position after the printing came to a stop?”

“There wasn’t much point. All the local firms were laying people off.”

“So how did he spend the days?”

“Don’t ask me. Walks in the park. Television. Have you ever been out of work?”

He nodded. “And my wife couldn’t find a job either.”

“Then you ought to know.”

“Unemployment hits people in different ways. I’m trying to understand how it affected your husband.”

“You’re not,” she said bluntly. “You’re trying to find out if I murdered him. That’s your job.”

Diamond didn’t deny it.

“It wasn’t deliberate.” She raised her chin defiantly. “I wouldn’t dream of killing him. Glenn and I were married eleven years. We had fights. Of course we had fights, with my temper. That’s my personal demon — my temper. I threw things. Mostly I missed. He could duck when he was sober.” Her lips twitched into a sad smile. “We always made up. Some of the best times we had were making up after a fight.”

Trish Noble’s candour was touching. Diamond sympathised with her. There was little more he could achieve. “We’ll need a statement, Mrs Noble, a written one, I mean. Then you can go. Do you have someone you can stay with? Family, a friend?”

“Can’t I go home?”

“Our people are going to be in the house for some time. You’d be better off somewhere else.”

She told him she had a sister in Trowbridge. Diamond offered to make the call, but Trish Noble said she’d rather break the news herself.