Jack by the Hedge (Jack of All Trades Book 4) (24 page)

‘What?’

‘Go in and find out. No one believes anything I say.’

‘Give me the key.’

He fished it out of his pocket. ‘Take it. The cop’s in there, and Zar. Your sister is dying. And I’m off home. That’s if she’s remembered to release the gate.’

He strode on to the drive. He must get home, straight home. Away from this mad world.

Chapter 48

Liz was bustling with the coffee in the kitchen, refusing any assistance. Rose joined the others in the sitting room, taking an armchair. Thomas was munching on shortcake.

‘Last time I saw you,’ she said, ‘you were arresting Amy.’

The police officer held up a finger to denote a full mouth, swallowed and said, ‘She’s been released. They might still charge her, but she’s being very helpful.’

Rose didn’t comment, thinking of the large woman who’d been sitting on her chest and pulling her hair. She turned to Zar to change the topic.

‘What’s he like,’ she said playfully, ‘when he’s off duty?’

Zar smiled. ‘So far, so good. But we’ve only had a pizza together. Honest.’

‘So far,’ she said with a wink.

‘This is worse than the station canteen,’ groaned Thomas. ‘Talk to anyone, go anywhere, and everyone knows before you do.’

‘I like to see you young people getting on,’ said Rose.

‘Hark at Methuselah,’ retorted Thomas.

Liz brought in the coffee mugs on a tray. And passed them round. When they all had one, she sat down in the remaining armchair.

‘I don’t want to spoil anyone’s evening,’ said Thomas, ‘but I do need to get to the reason for this visit. Something’s been bothering me, Ms Parker…’

‘Liz,’ she said. ‘You can drop the formal.’

‘Liz then.’ He put down his coffee and went on. ‘About this afternoon. Specifically about poisonous mushrooms.’

‘I’m all ears,’ said Liz.

‘You told me there were none in the park. And to be specific – no death stalks.’

‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘I did. I got Zar to collect them all up.’

‘I think that was a misleading answer, Liz, as you led me to believe none grew in the park.’

‘I am sorry about that. I didn’t mean to.’

‘Hm.’ Thomas chewed his lip, judging the importance of her reply. Then turned to his companion. ‘Zar – you collected all the death stalks?’

‘I did.’

‘Do you think you might have missed any?’

‘I went round the park a couple of times. Probably not.’

‘Hm.’ He thought for a second or two. ‘And what did you do with the mushrooms once you’d collected them?’

‘I gave them to Liz. She said she’d burn them.’

‘Did she say anything else to you?’

‘She said, keep it to myself. She didn’t want to cause panic.’

‘Do you agree with that, Liz?’

‘Yes, I do. With a big ceremony coming up I thought best to keep it quiet. Death stalks in the park. And you never know, if children find them – they might experiment. You have to be aware of these things in a community setting.’

‘Did you burn them?’

‘Yes.’

‘All of them?’

‘Yes.’

He stared at her, trying to read her. She held his gaze.

‘Do you know the symptoms of death stalk poisoning?’ he said.

‘Well,’ she began, ‘nothing for quite a while, which makes them so dangerous. Then vomiting and cramps. Then there might be a period of what appears to be recovery for a couple of hours. And then massive liver or kidney failure. Followed by death.’

‘You seem to have that off pat.’

‘I read it up yesterday,’ she said. ‘When I found out they were in the park.’

‘Have you eaten any yourself?’

‘No.’

‘Zar – what did you find in the bin?’

‘Remains of an omelette with bits of mushroom in – but I couldn’t say of what sort.’

‘So, Liz, why did Jack say you had eaten death stalks?’

‘I had a bit of fun,’ she said with a sigh, ‘and then when he was horrified, I told him it was a joke. I know he believed me. We talked of other things. And then out of the blue, he came on to me.’ She threw up her hands. ‘I mean really, Ian dead, what sort of callous beast does he think I am? I told him forcefully that I wasn’t interested. Men! You wouldn’t believe it. He came tonight to see my sister, and then decided that I, a woman by herself, was a better bet. And when I wouldn’t have it, he had to get his own back.’ She turned up her hands plaintively. ‘Why else come up with such rubbish?’

‘Unless you have eaten death stalks.’

‘I haven’t. I don’t know how many times I have to say it.’

Thomas sighed. ‘I don’t know whether to believe you or not, Liz. But I am a lowly detective constable just making a few enquiries to see if Ian Swift’s death might be suspicious. The autopsy is tomorrow, so we can’t even be totally sure that Ian was poisoned. It’s just that Ian himself thought he was.’

‘He could’ve been wrong,’ said Liz.

‘He could’ve been,’ agreed Thomas. ‘But the doctor seemed to think it the most likely explanation for his sudden death. And he did have lunch with you yesterday, Liz.’

‘I didn’t give Liz the mushrooms until mid afternoon,’ interrupted Zar.

‘So that’s me off the hook,’ said Liz.

‘Unless you found them yourself earlier.’

‘I didn’t.’

‘Lunch would fit the timetable, though,’ said Thomas. ‘He got sick 9 at night. It would have to be poisoning around lunchtime. Dinner would be too late.’

‘How can you be so certain it is mushroom poisoning?’ she said.

‘You’ve got me there, Liz. I can’t. Not till the autopsy is completed.’

‘So isn’t this visit rather premature?’ she said.

Thomas scratched his chin. ‘I am in a quandary here, Liz. If Ian Swift is found to be poisoned by death stalks – then you are the prime suspect.’

‘And if it was something else entirely?’

‘As may well be. It all comes down to the pathology report.’ He took a sip of coffee. ‘Let’s put aside how Ian Swift may or may not have died. Zar gave you the mushrooms mid afternoon…’

‘I agree, he did.’

‘So you could have had them in your supper.’

‘I burnt them.’

‘If you did,’ he insisted, ‘you could be dead by the time we get the autopsy report.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I have no choice, Liz. I am taking you into custody.’

‘I’m not going. You have to charge me.’

‘You want to be arrested? Fine by me. Obstructing the course of justice.’

‘But I’m not.’ She appealed to the others. ‘I am answering all his questions. How am I obstructing anything?’

He scratched his hair. ‘This is way over my pay grade. I need to go to the station and get some advice.’ He stood up. ‘I may be back later. I may not.’ He turned to Zar. ‘Sorry, mate. But you could be an important witness in this case. Our relationship will have to stop at a pizza until this is cleared up.’

‘I understand, Eddie.’

‘Then I’ll say good night to you all.’

He left them. Liz followed him to the door.

‘What a pity,’ exclaimed Rose, rubbing Zar on the back. ‘He’d have been a real treat for you.’

‘I thought it was too good to be true,’ said Zar ruefully. ‘Though he might be able to help me with somewhere to live. He knows people.’

Liz returned, and threw up her hands in relief. ‘Thank God, he’s gone. I thought he was going to arrest me then and there. That’s enough day for me. I’m off to bed. And you need to make sure Mr Swift is alright, Rose.’

‘I’m sure he is, but I’d best go next door and check. See how good I’m being?’ She rose from the armchair. ‘What about Zar in your spare room?’ Adding, ‘He’s not me, Liz.’

‘Yes, why not?’ said Liz. ‘Get your stuff from the pavilion, Zar. Rose, let him have your key. You don’t need it. And let’s all get some sleep. It’s going to be an eventful day tomorrow.’

Rose gave Zar the key.

‘I’ll get my stuff,’ he said and left them.

When the front door had shut, Rose held her sister by the shoulder.

‘You didn’t take death stalks, did you?’

‘No. It’s a load of rubbish. Look at me.’ She broke away, swung her arms and did a pirouette. ‘Bet you can’t still do that, Rose. Not now you’re thirty.’

Chapter 49

Jack considered phoning his Alcohol Halt buddy, Max. He hadn’t spoken to him for six weeks. Nice guy, but really not that suitable, not for him. Max was having a God phase, and kept trying to persuade Jack to have one too. At their last meeting, he’d told Jack to pray.

‘And if I can’t?’

‘Just try. It’ll come easier with practice.’

Max had a soothing voice, but his nostrums weren’t useful. God, or his stand-in, the doorknob, wouldn’t work for Jack.

Weariness did. He was home. In order to get drunk, he’d have to go out again to search for a late night booze shop. Too far, too long. But he felt so alone. He’d walked out. Alcohol Halt said if a situation becomes too demanding – leave. You are always free to go, said the convenor. And so, Jack had left. No, he hadn’t, he’d been thrown out. She’d told everyone he was harassing her, because she’d rejected him.

He’d failed to convince any of them that Liz had taken poison. She had so convincingly denied it, that he was beginning to wonder himself. Could it have been a simple mushroom omelette on her plate – that his own fears had read as death stalks with scrambled egg?

What more could he do?

He could’ve said that she had confessed to murdering Ian. But she’d deny that too. Say Jack was the bitter lover who’d say anything in revenge.

He strode about the flat. This was appalling. He felt so useless, so taken over. Greg at AH swore by yoga. It took his mind off alcohol and his inner demons, he said all too often. It was his inner higher power, he claimed. Jack had tried it once at a class and couldn’t stop looking at the attractive women in front of him, in clinging leotards. His own, inner, lower power.

He showered, and got into his pyjamas. Another step away from booze. He put on some jazz, closed his eyes and listened to the oozing trumpet and piano rhythm twisting round and round each other. Let the music swell. She’d done the dirty on him. Maybe she thought he’d done the dirty on her?

In the rose garden, she’d told him that she’d killed Ian. Then when he came into her house later, she said she’d taken death stalks. No, not quite like that. He thought back. She had told him she was eating a mushroom omelette. And he’d asked her – are they death stalks? And she’d said – what else? Then he’d thrown them in the bin.

He was sure then. Now, not so sure. She’d said why she’d taken them. Because it’s fitting, she’d said. What on earth did that mean? He was tired, too tired. Examining every damn word. And so muddled. He’d forgotten half the words he or she’d said. But the sense of it was that she told him that she was eating death stalks. That was no joke. But then when the others came, she denied everything. Saying it was him getting back at her.

He didn’t know what to believe. She was poisoning herself. She wasn’t. She was. And there it stayed. She was. But what could he do? Calling an ambulance would be useless. She’d say, it’s that dreadful builder. Look at me, I’m fine. Go and treat someone who’s really ill.

His phone rang. Late for a call. Liz or Rose? To say they were coming over. Fat chance. He half laughed and looked at the phone. Neither of them.

‘Hello, Mia.’

‘They’re having another row, Dad.’

Jack laughed. He couldn’t stop himself.

‘It’s not funny,’ she declared. ‘Not the slightest bit.’

‘Sorry, Mia.’

‘Why are grown ups so stupid?’

‘That’s a tough one…’ And totally apt. What does one say? Hormones, laziness, loneliness, but he settled for, ‘Animal instincts pretending to be civilised actions.’

‘What?’

‘It’s why the world is in such a mess.’

‘And Mum?’

‘She’s a lonely animal pretending to be a deputy head. Mostly, she gets away with it.’

‘Until Tony turns up. Oh, listen to them! Mum got hold of his phone again. And Emily hasn’t gone. What can I do?’ she wailed.

It’s easier to give advice than to take it, he thought. No one had listened to him so far tonight. Why not make it a series?

‘Go in and tell them to damn well shut up,’ he said.

‘I can’t do that.’

‘You can,’ he said. Reminding himself of Max and prayer. His certainty. ‘You won’t know till you’ve tried.’

‘She’ll shout at me.’

‘Shout back at her.’

There was a long pause.

‘Are you still there, Mia?’

‘I’m going to do it. I’ll phone you back, Dad.’

That was better. Distraction. Find another story to lock himself into. Of course Mia might walk straight into their lovemaking. A shock to everyone. The secrets of the bedroom. Except they were screaming their heads off, so unlikely to be in sexual throes. Unless a row was simply sex gone bad.

The jazz was still playing. He’d turned it lower during the phone call. Now it was ‘
Take the A Train
’, Duke Ellington. And he segued into a train hoping to stop at a quiet siding, but there was none so he’d roll on – until… Acheson, Topeka and Santa Fe.

The metaphor didn’t hold. Trains don’t need love. Have rows, get drunk, have children.

The phone rang. He picked it up, expecting Mia on her own track.

‘Jack.’

It was Alison.

‘Hello,’ he said carefully. ‘I hear you were having a row.’

‘Did you put her up to it?’ she said.

‘She was totally miserable,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what you think you’re doing. But stop it.’

He amazed himself by his forthrightness, but what the hell, what was there to lose?

‘Tony’s leaving,’ she said and paused. ‘There. That was the front door.’

‘What are you doing in such a stupid relationship?’

‘I don’t know. I just wanted to believe him when he came back.’

‘He’s a rat.’

‘Yes.’

‘I can’t believe you are agreeing with me. This never happens.’

‘Oh, why can’t you be in Brighton now!’

He laughed. ‘You don’t mean that.’

‘I do at this moment,’ she said. ‘You never did the dirty on me. Just got drunk. And now you’ve sorted yourself out – I’m kinda sorry you’ve gone.’

The irony. Someone thought he was OK. On the phone. For the moment. Seventy miles away.