Stop Them Dead, page 22
‘Your legs hurt?’
‘I can’t move them,’ she repeated, her eyes still closed.
Pallant tenderly removed the sheet then touched her right leg below the knee. ‘Can you feel that?’ he asked.
There was no response.
He pressed hard. ‘Can you feel that, Bluebell?’
‘I feel, I . . .’ she murmured.
‘OK,’ the consultant said. He tapped her right leg harder with one finger. ‘Can you feel that?’
There was no reaction.
He tried the other leg, with the same result. Then he beckoned the parents to follow him and Shah outside into the corridor and along, until they were safely out of Bluebell’s earshot. ‘My colleague, Dr Shah, has told me the history of the past few days, but I’d be grateful if you would repeat it all again.’
When they had finished, Pallant nodded gravely.
‘What do you think it is, doctor?’ Katy asked.
‘I’m afraid at this stage I don’t know, Mrs Fairfax. Your daughter is very sick, but it is likely to be one of the bugs going around that has hit her particularly badly.’
‘Could it be an infection she’s picked up from the puppy biting her?’
‘Well, I think that should have healed better by now – but everyone’s immune system is different, and if your daughter has something else going on, that wouldn’t help the healing process.’
‘Something else going on?’ Chris queried.
Pallant nodded. ‘She has an extremely high temperature and a raised white blood count.’ He held his hands up. ‘As a precaution I would like to admit her overnight for observation.’
The Fairfaxes looked at each other, then Katy turned back to the consultant. ‘Admit her?’
‘Yes.’
‘Could one of us stay with her?’
He smiled. ‘Well, yes, we have some beds in the relatives area, but you might be better off going home and trying to get some sleep. The beds are somewhat uncomfortable.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘I’m going to send her to the ICU.’
‘Intensive Care?’ Katy asked, close to crying again.
‘She’ll have a dedicated nurse with her all the time, around the clock,’ Pallant said. ‘Really there’s nothing you can do tonight. We’re going to run tests to find out what’s going on. I want to eliminate any possibility of sepsis or viral meningitis.’
‘That can be fatal, viral meningitis, can’t it?’ Katy said, her voice trembling.
‘I’m not going to lie to you,’ Pallant said. ‘Your daughter is extremely unwell.’
‘Oh God,’ Katy said, and began crying. Chris put an arm around her, trying to comfort her, while feeling terrified for Bluebell himself.
‘But she is in the best place,’ Pallant said. ‘You did the right thing bringing her in.’
‘Chris, you’ll need to call Helen and Vivek – apologize for how late it is and ask them to look after Moose while we’re here. They can leave her at ours but visit every few hours,’ Katy said desperately, thinking through the knock-on impact of their sudden change in circumstance. Helen and Vivek Malik were the Fairfax’s neighbours who were always happy to help out, often at the last minute.
‘I’m on it, I’ll call them now,’ Chris replied.
‘Wha-what – what tests are you going to do?’ Katy asked.
‘Well, Dr Shah has already organized her bloods to be sent for cultures, which will take twenty-four hours for the results to come back. Under local anaesthetic we’ll do a lumbar puncture to take fluid from her spine and send that for analysis as well. We’ll keep her cannulated and put her on a high dose of antibiotics and antiviral drugs. I’ve seen the report on her chest X-ray and that’s clear, which is a good sign.’
‘In what way?’ Chris asked.
‘There are no shadows or scar tissue so we can eliminate TB and a number of other diseases of the lungs.’
‘Yeah, well, she was never a heavy smoker,’ Katy said.
The consultant looked at her, as if unsure whether she was joking.
64
Monday 29 March
At 8.30 a.m. Gecko kissed Elvira goodbye, telling her he was taking the dog to the rescue centre, and that he would forage in a supermarket later for something for tonight’s dinner. Then, securing the rope around his neck, he struggled to get Humphrey, who was suddenly very reluctant to move, towards the front door of the house.
‘Come on, boy, what is it?’ he said petulantly.
‘He likes it here,’ she said. ‘Why don’t we keep him?’
‘We can’t,’ he said. ‘He must belong to someone, it would be stealing to keep him.’
‘Goodbye, Humphrey,’ she said, putting her arms around his neck and giving him a kiss. ‘He’s got such a wet nose.’
Earlier, in semi-darkness, Gecko had taken the dog for a short walk around the neighbourhood. He’d stopped as Humphrey stubbornly insisted on pooping on the pathway of a house up the road, then hurried on, leaving the mess there because it hadn’t occured to him to bring any plastic bags.
It now took him a good two minutes, with Humphrey resisting every step, to get him to the van, and he’d had to lift him up into it. Humphrey whined constantly as he drove, ignoring all the treats he bunged at him. ‘Shut up, will you? Shut up!’
But Humphrey refused to shut up. He sat on the passenger seat whining and whimpering.
After a few minutes, driving up through a residential area towards Dyke Road Avenue, Gecko pulled over to the kerb and turned to the dog. ‘SHUT UP!’ he yelled.
The dog looked at him, like he could see right through him. The look unnerved Gecko. ‘What’s the matter? I rescued you, gave you food and you’re just whingeing. Shut it.’
Humphrey was startled into an uneasy silence for a few seconds, while Gecko dialled the number he’d seen on Facebook. It was answered on the third ring. A woman’s voice. Posh. Anxious. ‘Yes, hello?’
‘I saw your post on Facebook about a missing dog,’ he said, stroking Humphrey with his free hand.
‘Have you found him? You’ve found him?’ She sounded elated. Overjoyed.
‘I think possibly. I was in Stanmer Park last night, walking my dogs, and this black dog, looked a little like a Lab, just came up to me and began whimpering. I tried to walk on,’ he lied. ‘I figured his owner would be calling and he would run off back to them. But he just kept following me all the way to my car. I didn’t know what to do. I checked and he didn’t have a collar on, so I had no way of contacting the owner. I waited for half an hour, hoping someone would turn up – my own dogs were getting anxious – and hungry.’
‘Of course,’ she said, taking a breath.
‘Then he started whining, like he was hungry also. I called the police to see if anyone had reported a dog of this description missing, but no one had, and they referred me to the council. I just didn’t know what to do. I thought of driving him to the RSPCA, but it was getting late. In the end I thought the best thing would be to take him home – my partner and I are real dog lovers – feed him and check on social media – you know – the missing dogs posts. And if I didn’t see anything I’d take him to the RSPCA this morning. I just didn’t want him spending the night alone and frightened in a strange kennel.’
‘That was really kind of you,’ she said.
‘I didn’t see your post until after 11 p.m., and I thought it would be too late to call. So I’m calling now.’
‘I’m so grateful,’ she said. ‘Where are you, I can come over.’
‘Well,’ he said. ‘I need to be sure you really are his owner. I’ve been reading about all the dog theft going on at the moment, you know? Dogs are fetching big money. How can I be sure you are this dog’s owner?’
‘Humphrey,’ she said with a trace of desperation in her voice. ‘His name is Humphrey.’
‘Sure,’ he replied. ‘But the owner posted that on Facebook. How can I be sure you are really the owner?’
‘I can email you photos of him – different to the ones I posted.’
‘OK,’ he replied. ‘Text me a couple.’
‘Give me two minutes, then call me back when you’ve got them.’
Gecko ended the call, waving more treats around Humphrey’s mouth to keep him silent. His phone warbled and he checked the messages. Two different photographs of the dog, one in which he was sitting, one in which he was running across a field. A bit of a pointless request to send him photos, he knew damn well she was his owner, but at least now she’d have no doubt he was a good person trying to make sure he’d found the right person.
He phoned her back.
‘Yes?’ she answered anxiously, on the first ring.
‘I think it is him,’ he replied.
‘Thank you, thank God, thank you. Where can I meet you?’
‘Well, there is just one more thing,’ Gecko said.
‘Yes?’
‘You see, I’ve been giving him treats and food. You’re offering a reward of one hundred pounds, correct?’
‘Yes, correct.’
‘Could you up that a bit to cover – like – my expenses?’
‘Of course!’ she replied. ‘How would two hundred pounds sound?’
He blinked in astonishment, thinking that had been easy, too easy. Maybe he should have asked for more? ‘In cash?’
‘In cash.’
‘How about we meet in Stanmer Park, where you lost him?’ he replied. Knowing there were no CCTV cameras there.
‘By the cafe?’
‘What vehicle will you be in?’
‘A Kia Sportage – dark blue,’ Cleo answered.
‘Thirty minutes?’
65
Monday 29 March
After dozing fitfully, and tossing and turning for hours worrying about Humphrey, at 4.30 a.m., wide awake, Roy Grace had abandoned trying to get any more sleep. He got out of bed, showered and dressed, then drove back to Stanmer Park, and for two and a half hours walked around in vain, looking for Humphrey and calling his name.
Finally, tired and upset, he’d given up and returned to his office, shortly before 8 a.m., to prepare for the morning briefing on Operation Brush. It was now a few minutes to the start, and he was just about to head across to the conference room when his phone rang. It was Cleo and she was excited, telling him about the call she’d received.
‘It really does sound like it’s Humphrey!’ she continued. ‘I texted him some pictures and he’s confirmed he thinks it is him.’
‘You’re sure it’s not another scammer?’ Grace asked, his joy tinged with doubt.
‘No, he sounds really nice and caring. But . . .’
‘What but?’
‘Well – I wasn’t going to tell you, he was very sweet about it – he asked if we could up the reward just a little to cover his expenses.’
Alarm bells began clanging in his head. ‘Up the reward? I don’t like the sound of that at all.’
‘Maybe he doesn’t have much money,’ Cleo replied defensively. ‘He said he’d had to buy food and treats.’
‘But you just told me he has two dogs of his own – he was walking them in the park when Humphrey came up to him.’
She was silent for a moment then she said, ‘Does it matter, so long as we get Humphrey back?’
The deep emotion in her voice got to him. ‘No, darling, no it doesn’t. Let’s just hope this is real.’
‘I’m meeting him in twenty minutes,’ she said.
‘Where?’
‘By the cafe in Stanmer Park.’
That eased his mind a little. At least they would be meeting in a very public place and there would be other people around. All the same, he was concerned for her safety. ‘I could be there in twenty minutes myself and join you.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, I can handle this. I’ll be fine.’
‘You’re sure?’ he asked hesitantly, aware of the heavy agenda he had for the meeting.
‘I’m sure, I’ll swing by a cash machine in Henfield High Street on the way.’
‘OK,’ he said dubiously. ‘I’ll try to get a response car to be close by. Call me when you have Humphrey back – or if there are any problems.’
‘I will. I love you.’
‘Love you – and be careful.’
‘I’m a big girl!’
Grace ended the call, his joy that Humphrey might be OK and back tinged with anxiety about what Cleo had said about the reward. Maybe the guy was genuinely short of money. But something didn’t feel right. Aware he was slightly abusing his position, he called the Control Room and asked if there was a car in the vicinity in case Cleo needed assistance. The operator said it was a crazy morning, with two big RTCs on the A23 and A27, and he had nothing free at the moment, unless it was an emergency, but he’d do his very best.
Thanking him, Grace grabbed himself a strong coffee, wondering again if he should join Cleo. Equally he didn’t want to spook the man. It was daylight, there would be people about. If he was genuine, and really had found Humphrey wandering around, he’d hand the dog over and she’d give him the reward. If he’d kidnapped Humphrey for a ransom payment, then the same would apply, he reasoned. He would do the hand-over, take the cash and bugger off. He couldn’t see with either scenario that Cleo would be in any danger, and they would have Humphrey back, which they both desperately wanted.
Even so, he was fretting as he walked along towards the conference room, and suddenly stopped in the corridor. He texted Cleo, asking her to try to get a photo of the man, and to send it to him as soon as she could.
66
Monday 29 March
Cleo sat anxiously in her Kia, pulled over to the side of the wide avenue in the park, a short distance from the agreed rendezvous of the cafe. The cash, in fresh banknotes, was tucked inside a pocket of her coat. She’d written down their numbers, on Roy’s advice.
Two people were talking on Radio Sussex, but she was barely listening, as she looked around for any sign of Humphrey.
So far nothing.
It was ten minutes past the rendezvous time she’d set. Was she in the right place? she wondered. But this was the only cafe in the park.
How long should she wait? Was he going to be a no-show? Just a cruel hoaxer?
Two cyclists shot by, pedalling hard. Several people were walking dogs. Another five minutes passed. She was on the verge of calling the man, when the ping of a text startled her and she looked hopefully at her phone. It was from Roy.
All OK? XX
She heard a faint distant bark. Humphrey? She put the window down and listened. Another bark. Still faint, but it did sound like Humphrey. She smiled with joy and texted back.
So far. XX
Then she saw an odd-looking figure walking down from a thicket of trees, in the direction of her car. A man, in a hoodie, baggy jeans and trainers. He had the hood down low over his forehead, and a Seagulls scarf masking the lower half of his face. He stopped fifty yards away and stared at the car.
Cleo raised her phone and tried to discreetly take a photograph.
‘Hey!’ he shouted angrily. ‘No photographs. No photographs!’
Recognizing his reedy voice, she jumped out of the car and shouted back, ‘I didn’t, I was just holding my phone up. Do you have my dog?’
‘I’m going to get him – just had to check it was you.’
She frowned, her suspicions now deepening. Why didn’t he have Humphrey with him? ‘What do you mean, get him?’ she demanded, walking closer towards him. Saw his pale white skin on the part of his face that was visible.
‘I had a few more expenses than I realized.’ His voice was tinged with arrogance. ‘He wasn’t well, you see, had to take him to the vet. Had to pay the vet in cash, so I’ll need a bit more than I told you.’
‘Really? Which vet?’ she asked sharply.
He looked thrown, for a moment. ‘Um – you know – the one—’
Cleo heard a bark again. Louder. It really did sound like Humphrey’s bark. She suddenly yelled, ‘HUMPHREY!’
Instantly she heard his bark of recognition, followed by a whine, then more barks. Excited barks. She spotted him tied to a tree not far away, straining against the rope leash.
The man looked nervous. ‘I’ll swallow the vet bill,’ he said.
‘Very big of you.’ She took a step closer to him. Now she was just a couple of feet away, inside his personal space, staring into his nervous eyes. He smelled a little rank.
‘Yeah, I’ll just take the – you know – what we agreed.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, really.’
‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a kick in the balls instead?’
He gave her an odd look. ‘No, no I wouldn’t.’
‘Good.’ She kicked her stiff leather hiking boot with all her force at his crotch, and felt the satisfying crunch of it hitting its target. Saw him gasp instantly, and double up in agony.
She sprinted towards the thicket where she could see Humphrey, calling his name, and hearing him barking and whining increasingly excitedly. ‘Humphrey! Humphrey! Good boy, good boy!’
Barely able to see through his tears, his whole insides burning, Gecko was about to go stumbling after her when he saw something moving through the trees some distance away. Blue and yellow. Blue and yellow. Blue and yellow.
A police car.
67
Monday 29 March
Roy Grace made his way into the conference room, sat down and began by apologizing to his team for their screwed-up weekends. Then he turned to Polly Sweeney. ‘Can you tell me more about the call you had yesterday from the woman working in the kennels of a dog breeder?’
‘Yes, sir. As I told DI Branson, she sounded frightened and wouldn’t give her name or any details of where she worked.’
‘And her number was withheld?’
‘Yes. She said she thought some of the dogs might have been stolen, and they were all unhappy about the condition the dogs were being kept in at the kennels. One of them said she was going to complain to her boss about it. She’s not seen her again, even though they’d agreed to meet up at a pub yesterday lunchtime, and she’s really worried what’s happened to her.’
