Blood on the Marsh (DI Susan Holden 3) - Page 19

‘And if there was a discrepancy, what then?’

‘There never has been a discrepancy,’ she replied icily. Sinclair’s brief attempt at being human had apparently come to an end.

‘But just suppose a discrepancy had occurred,’ Holden pressed.

‘Then that would be a serious matter. I’d have to report it.’

Holden turned a page in the book. Her eyes scanned the entry for a Mrs Diana Leigh, but her brain was already moving on: ‘And when a patient on morphine dies, what happens to the rest of the morphine?’

‘All unused drugs would be safely disposed of via a licensed waste management company. And before you ask, let me tell you we keep full records of that too.’

Holden nodded again, though not because she was satisfied. If there had been a discrepancy – if morphine had disappeared – would Fran Sinclair really be happy to report it?

CHAPTER 5

I don’t know where to start. I can’t stop thinking. My head is a whirlpool. My head is an unexploded bomb. I have not slept well. Every time that I closed my eyes, my brain went into overdrive. So let me tell it in order, the whole day, from the beginning to end, and maybe then I will feel better.

I got up when my alarm went off. I had a shower and I got dressed. I put on clean pants and clean socks, but the rest of my clothes I had worn the previous day. I had breakfast – a little packet of porridge with milk which I microwaved for two and a half minutes. I put soft brown sugar on top – just one level dessert spoon – and I ate it slowly, with a glass of orange juice. Then I brushed my teeth, put on my anorak and my Oxford United scarf, and went to catch the bus. I got to work a bit early, so I went and stood outside the music shop in the Cowley Road and looked at all the guitars. I wish I could be a pop star.

Then I went to the shop. Jaz was already there, and I had four frames to make, so I concentrated on that. She popped out to the bank at 11.30 a.m., so I sat at the front and waited for customers, and then in walked Bella. She had come for her painting of Doubtful Sound. Jaz had told me that it was a real place, in New Zealand, so I felt bad that I had thought she was teasing me.

She paid me, and I said ‘Thank you’ and she said ‘Thank YOU’ and that made me feel better.

Jaz came back from the bank a few minutes later, and since it was 12.01, I went and ate my sandwiches at the back of the shop, and then I went for a walk. When I got to George and Delilah’s for my ice cream, Bella was already there, sitting at the same table as the day before.

‘What are you doing here?’ I said.

She smiled. She has a nice smile. ‘I want to buy you an ice cream, and then I want to tell you a secret.’

All afternoon the secret she told me was whizzing round my head, so I found it really hard to concentrate. I left work at 4.30 p.m., and outside there was Vickie, waiting for me.

‘Hello, what are you doing here?’ I said.

‘I rang you, you twerp,’ she said. ‘We arranged that I could come round to your flat.’

She was right. I had forgotten. ‘Are you wanting supper?’ I said.

‘I’ve got some money,’ she said. ‘I’ll buy us both fish and chips.’

So we went back to my flat, and we ate at the table, and afterwards I made us each a mug of tea. But when I turned round to give her hers, I saw she was crying.

‘What’s the matter?’ I said. I’m no good when people cry. I went to the bathroom and got her some toilet paper. After a while she stopped crying. ‘Are you all right now?’ I said. What else could I say?

‘It’s Dad,’ she said.

‘What do you mean?’ I said, though I thought I knew what she meant.

‘I hate him,’ she said.

‘Has he been hitting her again?’ I felt myself getting angry just thinking about it. I saw him hit her once, right in the stomach with his fist. Mum had said he didn’t hurt her, but I knew he had. I knew the bastard had hurt her.

‘No,’ Vickie said quickly. ‘At least, I don’t think so.’

‘Tell me if he does,’ I said.

‘I wish I could stay with you,’ she said.

I was confused. I couldn’t keep up with what she was saying. My flat is tiny. She has a double-size bedroom at home. ‘Don’t be silly,’ I said. ‘I’ve only got one room.’

Tags: Peter Tickler DI Susan Holden Mystery
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