Кара Хантер - No Way Out

Michael's grip tightens on the side of his chair, but he doesn't move. All his other senses are sharpened. The bee veering close. The dog barking in the garden next door. The smell of cut grass.

`How long's that been going on, by the way?' continues Philip. `The drinking, I mean.'

`It's not drinking as such `“'

`It is, compared to what he used to do. He barely drank at all in the old days.'

`He has a lot on his plate `“ you know that `“' She takes a deep breath. `He told you, didn't he, about the problems I've had?'

`The depression?' he says, his voice softer. `Yes, he told me. But I thought `“ well `“ after all this time `“'

`That's why I never tell anyone,' she says sadly. `They'd just assume I should have got over it by now. `њPulled myself together.`ќ That Zachary's over two and it must have gone away. But it hasn't.' There are tears in her voice now. `I'm starting to wonder if it ever will.'

`What does the doc say?'

`She has me on medication, but I hate it, Philip `“ I hate it. It's like I'm living in fog `“ I can't think straight, can't do anything. And then Michael has to look after the kids as well as doing his job and his research, and it's not fair. It's too much `“ the cooking, the school run, the house `“'

`Yeah, right,' says Philip heavily, `the bloody house.'

`So I came off them `“'

`You came off the meds `“ without telling your doctor?'

Michael stops breathing. This is the first he's heard about his wife not taking her medication.

`I was desperate `“ only not taking them was even worse.'

`I'm not surprised `“'

`No,' she says miserably, `you don't understand. That's when it started. The `“ other stuff.'

The chair creaks again. She's crying; he must have put an arm round her.

`You can tell me,' he whispers.

`I kept losing things. Putting them down and finding them later somewhere else where I'd looked already.'

`That could be anything `“ I do that `“'

`It's not just that. I started hearing things too. In the house. Like there was someone there. And last week I suddenly smelt burning but nothing was on fire `“'

`Someone's barby? It's that time of year.'

`No, like I said, it was inside the house.'

He starts saying something about the possible side effects of coming off the meds but she's crying hard now.

`Have you spoken to Mike about this?' he says gently. `Or the doctor?'

`I'm too scared.'

`Scared? Scared of what?'

`I went on Google,' she says, her voice breaking, `and there were all these websites saying that hallucinations can be a symptom of post-partum psychosis, and I was frightened they'd take Zachary away if they knew. That they'd think I might harm him and he wouldn't be safe with me, and you know that's not true, don't you, I would never harm my children `“'

She breaks down now, and Michael can hear Philip soothing her, telling her it's OK.

And then the sound of the football bouncing on the dry earth. Close. Closer still.

`Why's Mummy crying?' says Matty.

`She's just a bit upset,' says Philip. `Nothing to worry about, Matt.'

`Can we play Ronaldo and Messi again?'

`In a minute. I just need to talk to Mummy first. Why don't you go and get a juice from the fridge and bring one for Zachary too.'

Matty whines a bit at that, but Michael eventually hears his footsteps retreating towards the house.

`Sorry about that,' says Sam. `It all just got on top of me.'

`No need to apologize to me. Seriously. But I think you really do need to go back on the meds.'

`I did. I went to the doctor. I didn't tell her `“ you know `“ what had happened. Just said the pills weren't agreeing with me. She put me on something different.'

`And are they better?'

A pause. She must have nodded.

`And there hasn't been anything since `“ none of that weird stuff?'

Another pause.

`Well, that has to be a good sign, doesn't it `“ if it only happened when you weren't on the medication?'

`I suppose so.'

`But I really do think you should talk to your doctor about it `“ all of it. Just to be on the safe side. You don't need to worry. Nothing bad's going to happen.'

`Do you promise?' she whispers.

Michael's heard enough; he shifts a little in his chair, feigning waking. And when he opens his eyes he sees his brother holding his wife's hand.

`I promise,' Philip says.

At the John Rad, Alan Challow's assistant, Nina Mukerjee, is pulling on a clean set of scrubs. Ray Goodwin, the appointed pathologist, has just arrived to conduct the second autopsies and she's been asked to sit in and observe, in case something new comes up. No one's expecting anything `“ it's just standard procedure in case there's a trial. But right now, any sort of trial seems a very long way off and Nina's steeling herself for a gruesome afternoon that gets them precisely nowhere.

The door swings open. `Miss Mukerjee?'

He's younger than she expected `“ a lot younger. And definitely not the usual tweedy type. More rogue than brogues, by the look of him, with his hipster beard and earring. In fact, she's pretty sure she can see a tattoo.

`You ready?'

She nods.

`Then let's get this party started.'

By five, Baxter is rather pleased with himself. He's no accountant but he's done a few courses and he's got quite savvy with numbers, over the years. Enough to get by, anyway. If it's a really big one, like fraud or money laundering, then they call in the experts, but usually it's just about getting a clear picture of the cash. The haves, the have-nots, and the desperately wanna-haves. And with this bloke Esmond it only took him an afternoon to get a pretty good idea, even if `pretty' is hardly the word, in the circumstances. He picks up the phone and calls Fawley, and a couple of minutes later the DI pushes open the door and comes towards him. He looks frazzled, which seems to be par for the course these days. Baxter's heard the same rumours the rest of the station has, and even if he tends to be sceptical about office gossip it's hard not to see Fawley's frayed nerves as evidence that something's gone badly wrong on the home front.

Gis stands up from his desk and comes over to join them.

`OK,' says Fawley, `what have we got?'

Baxter gestures at his computer. `The last time Esmond's credit card was used is late afternoon on the 31st December. The Tesco in Summertown. No unusual transactions recently as far as I can see, though he was close to his credit limit, and only paying off the minimum most months.' He changes the page. `And this is Esmond's current account. As you can see, only a couple of hundred quid in it.' He scrolls down. `Nothing untoward in terms of incomings or outgoings until about two months ago, when there's a transfer in from the savings account of £2,000, which goes straight back out again three days later. In cash .'

`Who needs that sort of cash these days?' wonders Gislingham.

`And this,' says Baxter, switching to another page, `is the savings account. After that last withdrawal, all that's left in it is,' he leans forward to read, `three hundred and seventy-six pounds fifty-four pence. Eighteen months ago there was over fifteen thousand in there, but by last October it was all but gone, apart from that final two grand.'

`So what was he spending it on?' asks Fawley.

`I've looked at the individual transactions and most of it has been going on care home fees. That place in Wantage where his mother is? That's one of the most expensive ones round here.' Which is probably, thinks Baxter, why Everett hasn't bothered checking that one out. She still hasn't said anything to him about her dad but he's seen the brochures in her desk drawer and he knows the old man's been struggling.