Murder With Mercy Page 7

  Ms Collins looked as if she’d be a nice, commonsensical girl under different circumstances. Today, however, she looked as if she’d run out of patience. ‘Look, in my view this is just a bit of mischief that’s gone too far. Ordinarily, we wouldn’t want to waste police time over it. We’d give the lad a good talking to and send him home. But there’s a complication. The man who brought him in insists the boy must be charged with criminal damage. He says it’s not the first time he’s been caught and warned, but that he keeps coming back and doing it again. He says the boy has got to be stopped.

  ‘We’ve warned him that because of the boy’s age, no magistrate would give him anything but a slap on the wrist, but the complainant insists that we must make an example of the boy, to discourage others. He says that if the juvenile courts won’t deal with his vandalism, he’ll complain to Social Services that the lad is out of control.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  Lesley nodded. ‘Given the boy’s background – single parent, truanting and so on – it’s not impossible that he’d get his way. If the boy were to admit he’d been stupid and expressed regret …? But he’s dumb.’

  Ellie felt herself go pale. Mikey had been very fond of his stepfather, Edgar Pryce, and had become mute after his death. It had taken time and patience to get him talking again, but he’d been talking to her and Thomas last night, hadn’t he? So why had he stopped talking now? Ellie said, ‘His mother has flu. And I mean serious flu. Don’t you need an adult to be with him before you can question him?’

  ‘We asked for a teacher to come up from his school, but they said there’s no one available till after four o’clock. They were not surprised to hear he’s been truanting again.’

  ‘Give a dog a bad name,’ said Ellie. ‘May I see him?’

  A shrug. ‘If you can get him to understand the position he’s in …’

  An empty interview room. Mikey was led in, wavering on his feet. He didn’t appear to know where he was. Ellie called his name, but he didn’t react. Instead, he subsided on to the floor, first kneeling and then collapsing sideways till he was lying down. His eyes were half open, his clothing was in disarray and there was a nasty bruise on his jaw. Had he been in a fight?

  Ellie was alarmed, and so was Lesley Milburn.

  Ellie said, ‘He’s ill!’

  Ms Collins looked uneasy. ‘He was asleep when I went to fetch him. I suppose he’s not yet woken up properly.’

  Lesley wasn’t pleased. ‘Something’s wrong.’

  Ellie knelt down beside Mikey and pulled him into her arms. He was soft and pliable within her embrace. ‘Get a doctor! Quickly!’

  Lesley Milburn knew how to make things happen. She opened the door and yelled, ‘Get the doctor!’

  An echo returned. ‘What, now?’

  ‘At once!’

  ‘Keep your hair on.’

  Lesley knelt down on the other side of the boy to Ellie. ‘Better not move him.’

  The sandy-haired DC Collins had flushed unbecomingly. ‘He was all right when I checked on him a while back.’

  Ellie stroked the boy’s cheek. ‘He’s been in a fight?’

  ‘Not exactly, no. The workman said the lad fell down some stairs and banged his head when he was discovered. He said the lad was swearing something chronic on the way in, vowing to put his eyeballs out with a lighter or something. Kicking him in the shins. He said there was nothing wrong with the boy till he found himself in here and realized there are consequences to what he’d been doing. That’s when he started acting stupid.’

  ‘Looks like concussion to me.’ Lesley Milburn was anxious. ‘You didn’t think to get him checked out?’

  ‘He was all right, I tell you. Wouldn’t talk, that’s all. What was I supposed to do?’

  Lesley looked grim. ‘We’ll have a word about that later.’

  Ellie felt the boy stir within her arms. ‘It’s all right, Mikey. Keep still. I’m here.’ She could feel his heart beat against hers. ‘Do you hurt anywhere special?’

  He half raised his hand to his head, then let it fall.

  Ellie said, ‘You’re as bad as your mother, in bed with flu.’

  Lesley clicked her tongue. ‘Flu? You think the boy has got flu as well?’

  ‘It would account for his sleepiness. Except … You say he got a knock on the head when he fell down the stairs?’

  Ms Collins pushed out her jaw. ‘The complainant said the lad was caught red-handed. I’ve got brothers myself, and I know what mischief they can get up to. They can do a lot of damage on a building site unless they’re stopped, and it’s no good saying that boys will be boys.’

  Mikey was so hot, he was almost steaming. Ellie pulled off his jacket, discovering a cut in one sleeve. It was on the underside of the sleeve. The words ‘a defensive wound’ came into her mind. ‘Someone attacked him with a knife?’

  ‘What? No one mentioned a knife.’

  Ellie lifted his arm so that they could see the damage. ‘Look for yourself. When I left him this morning he was in good health, no bruises, his clothes were neat and tidy and his jacket didn’t have a slash in it. He’s been assaulted, hasn’t he?’

  ‘He fell down some stairs.’

  ‘Before or after he was knifed? Look, his sweatshirt has also been cut … Can you help me move him so that we can see …? No, not much blood. Just a scratch. I don’t think he needs stitches, but—’

  ‘Kids do mess up their clothes and—’

  Ellie was on the warpath. ‘I don’t think his injuries are consistent with the story you’ve been given. I agree that he shouldn’t have been on the site, and that he was trespassing. But it’s clear that someone hit him across the jaw, perhaps managing to knock him out, and if he did take a tumble down the stairs, did he fall or was he pushed? Concussion can be serious. It would account for his sleepiness and inability to talk.’

  Lesley and the sandy-haired constable exchanged glances. It was obvious to Ellie that Lesley outranked Ms Collins and that there were going to be words spoken about the way Mikey’s case had been handled.

  Ellie probed further. ‘One of the interesting things about this is that Mikey wasn’t brought in by the site manager, whom I know very well and who would certainly not have beaten the lad up, taken a knife to him, or thrown him down the stairs. As you probably know, I have shares in the new hotel, and have been advising them about the way the site was to be developed. So, who brought the lad in?’

  ‘It was someone called Preston,’ said Ms Collins. ‘He told me he was the man in charge of the site this morning.’

  ‘Preston. Preston.’ Ellie tried to remember. ‘Ah. If I’m right, he’s one of the older men, who’s been with them for years. A plumber who also does tiling? Can turn his hand to almost anything? It’s true that the plumbers have had some problems on the site. But Preston is not the foreman, nor the site manager.’ She looked down at Mikey. ‘How long is that doctor going to be? Should we take him to hospital?’

  ‘I’ll check.’ Ms Collins removed herself.

  The boy’s lips moved but he didn’t open his eyes. Ellie touched his forehead. ‘He’s running quite a temperature.’

  Ms Collins returned with a little Indian woman bustling along behind her. Middle-aged, no nonsense, Western clothes. She was British from way back, probably born here.

  She said, ‘Let the dog have a sight of the bone, then.’ Despite her diminutive stature, she lifted the boy on to the table with ease and set about examining him.

  ‘Concussion?’ said Lesley Milburn.

  Ellie thought: Ambulance. Overnight obs. I’ll have to stay in hospital with him, which means telling Rose … and Thomas … and what else am I supposed to be doing? Who’s going to look after Vera? Ought we to tell her about this or not?

  Ellie’s anxiety mounted by the second. ‘He does seem very sleepy.’

  Lesley said, ‘He’s not talking. His jaw’s not broken, is it?’

  The doctor shook her head. ‘His jaw is not broken, nor is it dis
located, but someone’s given him an almighty whack on his chin. Someone’s aimed a knife at him. You can see the boy lifted up his arm to fend it off.’ She peeled back the sleeve of his sweatshirt. ‘Ah, the knife cut through his shirt but there’s only a scratch on his arm, and it’s hardly bled at all. A defensive wound. He was fortunate, wasn’t he?’

  She looked up at the two policewomen to see that they had registered her words. They had. The doctor said, ‘Help me off with the rest of his outer clothing.’

  They did so in silence.

  The doctor said, ‘I see heavy bruising on his legs and shoulders. I observe that large hands have clutched the boy around his upper arms. Someone has used unnecessary force to restrain him.’

  ‘Not I,’ said DC Campbell hastily.

  The doctor said, ‘Better take photographs in case a civil case is brought against the police for assault.’ She got out a pencil torch and aimed it at each of Mikey’s eyes in turn. He winced, turned his head away. She took his temperature. His head lolled on his neck. He was only semi-conscious.

  ‘I thought at first,’ said Ellie, tentatively, ‘that he’d got flu? His mother’s gone down with it, and he’s normally an active child. But it’s more than that, isn’t it?’

  The doctor nodded. ‘Flu? Yes, there’s a lot of it about. It could be, but in addition, he’s been beaten up and knifed. I’ll put in a report on his injuries. I don’t think he’s concussed but someone will have to watch him through the night, in case he relapses. No need to hospitalize him. Send him home. Four-hourly painkillers, plenty of fluids. Don’t forget to photograph his injuries.’ She whisked herself out again.

  The two policewomen looked at one another. Ellie fancied a bad-tempered exchange of thoughts. Well, one blaming the other wasn’t going to get them anywhere.

  She said, ‘Here’s a how-de-do. I’d better get him home soonest. Meanwhile, who’s got a camera?’

  Lesley muttered something which, if Ellie had heard it properly, was probably unprintable and left the room.

  Ms Collins had flushed to her forehead. ‘Well, how was I to know?’

  ‘Of course you couldn’t,’ said Ellie, trying hard not to blame the woman for taking the word of a white adult against a lad of mixed-race who’d been caught trespassing … at the very least. Lesley returned with a camera, and pictures were taken of Mikey’s bruises and the damage to his arm, his jacket and sweatshirt.

  Ellie huddled Mikey back into his clothes. He was a dead weight in her arms, eyes half-closed, skin far too hot. She asked, ‘What happens next?’

  Lesley grimaced. ‘An official complaint has been made and will have to be followed up. There’s some paperwork …’ She glanced at Ms Collins, and glanced away. ‘You’ll have to sign that you’re taking responsibility for the boy. Meanwhile take him home and put him to bed.’

  ‘Can you get me a taxi or find someone to give us a lift?’

  ‘I’ll see you home.’

  Yes, thought Ellie, because you also want to pump me about the ladies who are dying in droves. All right, it’s exaggerating to say they’re dying in droves, and I ought not to do that, but I’m tired and fed up and worried about Mikey and if she tries to make out I ought to have done more for her in the case of the suicidal ladies, then I’ll flip. Though I’m not quite sure what that means. Flip. Sounds like Flipper the dolphin.

  ‘Sign here,’ said Ms Collins, producing some paperwork.

  Ellie did so, without reading it, which she knew very well she ought not to do, but she was beyond caring. And if anyone said she ought to have got her solicitor in on this, she’d slap them, because there hadn’t been time to arrange it and boys needed their mothers at such a time.

  She cradled Mikey, who seemed to have fallen into a restless sleep. Still far too hot. She put in a spot of praying while they waited.

  Dear Lord, give me strength. I think I’ve probably handled this badly, but you know all about the broken and wounded and how you pick them up and make them better … And yes, of course I ought to have got hold of my solicitor. I’ll get on to it in the morning. My back does ache, but I’m not going to put him down.

  Please, dear Lord, help us to sort this out? I’m sure Mikey couldn’t have done anything very awful but, if he has, then he’ll have to take the consequences. I’ll stand by him, anyway. As will Vera. Oh dear. Why can’t life just potter along without things going wrong?

  Lesley took them out of a back door at the station and down a ramp to a car park. She opened the back door of a Toyota and helped Ellie put the boy in the back seat. He lay where he’d been placed, limp as a rag doll. Ellie got in beside him. She did up her own seat belt and took Mikey into her arms. Perhaps he ought to be strapped in, too, but she was beyond such niceties.

  Lesley had barely turned into the main road before she spoke. ‘I know this is a bad time to ask, but did you discover anything for me?’

  Ellie tried to bring her mind back from wherever it had gone, to answer the question. ‘I’m not sure. There was another death which might be regarded as an assisted suicide, but the husband definitely didn’t do it.’

  ‘Names and dates.’

  ‘Call round tomorrow and I’ll give you what I have. This business of Mikey trespassing. The police aren’t going to take it further, are they?’

  ‘A formal complaint has been made. You must see that we have to look into it. And it’s clear he was trespassing at the very least.’

  ‘Yes, I know. He’s always over there, and he has been told not to, but … trespassing is such a minor offence.’

  ‘Sabotage isn’t.’

  True. Ellie thought about that. ‘I don’t think the company would want to prosecute a child, would they? I’ve some influence there. I could offer to pay for any damage he’s done. If any. The other thing; suppose I file a formal complaint against Mr Preston for assaulting the boy?’

  Did Lesley smile? Yes, probably. ‘Why not? We can discuss it when I call tomorrow.’

  SIX

  Lesley parked in Ellie’s driveway and helped her passengers out. Ellie, supporting Mikey, sought for and found her latch key, which for once behaved itself … but no sooner had she got the door open than she was confronted by an unwelcome guest.

  ‘Mother, where have you been?’

  Diana. More complications.

  ‘In a minute, Diana. First things first,’ said Ellie. Between them Lesley and Ellie half carried and half dragged Mikey into the hall. He didn’t seem able to walk by himself.

  ‘Where?’ said Lesley.

  ‘On the hall chair for the moment,’ said Ellie, easing her back.

  ‘Mother, what’s going on!’

  Rose arrived, letting out cries of distress. ‘You found him, then? Oh, the poor boy. Has he eaten anything? Bring him through into the kitchen.’

  ‘Mother!’

  ‘In a minute, dear.’ And to Lesley, ‘Thank you, Lesley. See you tomorrow?’

  ‘Mother!’

  ‘Yes, yes. Rose, has Thomas returned yet?’

  ‘Yes, he’s had a bad day, though, and I don’t think he’s all that well. He’s had his tea and gone to his quiet room. Shall I fetch him?’

  Another problem. Mikey’s bedroom was on the top floor, but how were they to get him up there if Thomas were not able to carry him? An alternative suggested itself: every now and then Mikey took his sleeping bag and made a nest for himself downstairs. His favoured haunts were the study at the end of the corridor, or the quiet room to which Thomas retired when he needed to think and to pray. No one had been able to break Mikey of this habit of wandering the house at night, and it would be easier to nurse him downstairs – perhaps in Rose’s bed-sitting room next to the kitchen? – rather than having to carry him up to the top of the house.

  Lesley said, ‘See you, then.’ She vanished into the dusk.

  Ellie dithered. Yes, it would be sensible to have Mikey in bed downstairs, but if Mikey had flu and gave it to Rose then she might be seriously ill, and they couldn’
t risk that, could they? ‘Rose, perhaps he can sleep in the spare room on the first floor tonight?’

  The cat Midge stalked across the hall and disappeared down the corridor with a flick of his tail. Mikey and the cat were seldom apart.

  So where was the boy? He wasn’t where he’d been placed on the hall chair. Ellie followed the cat down the corridor past the dining room – which Ellie hardly used except for her weekly business meetings – and into Thomas’s quiet room. It was a well-proportioned room which had had no obvious purpose in life until Thomas had decided to use it for reflection, meditation, prayer … whatever. It was simply furnished with a couple of chairs, an occasional table and a rug on the floor. The only ornament – if you could call it that – was the Victorian embroidered picture of the Good Shepherd carrying a stiff-looking sheep over his shoulders, which Ellie had rescued from the junk cupboard under the stairs.

  Thomas’s prayers were imprinted on the air of the room, so that anyone who entered felt their spirit quieten down. He used it night and morning and sometimes between whiles, especially if he had some difficult problem to solve.

  Thomas was indeed there. He was sitting in his big chair, the curtains drawn against the darkening sky, and with a side light on. He was fast asleep.

  Mikey had discarded his outer clothing in dribs and drabs as he entered the room and was now in his sleeping bag at Thomas’s feet. His eyes were closed and his breathing regular. The cat was curled up on Mikey’s feet.

  Ellie bent to touch the boy’s forehead. His temperature was almost normal. Now how had he managed that? One moment he was ill enough to think about taking him to hospital and the next he was on the mend. And fast asleep. No kidding. His breathing purred … as did Thomas’s.

  ‘Well, there’s a sight for sore eyes,’ said Rose. ‘We’ll let the men be for the time being, shall we?’

  Ellie wasn’t sure. Oughtn’t she to wake Thomas and find out what had gone wrong with him that day? Oughtn’t Mikey to be fed some food and drink?

  On the other hand, perhaps sleep was the best medicine for both of them.