Jack by the Hedge (Jack of All Trades Book 4) (23 page)

‘Bring someone back?’ said Zar, spluttering into his coffee. ‘You must be joking. My mum was horrified at a few mags and some chat room stuff. I couldn’t bring you back. Or if I did, I’d have to lie – and we’d all sit together in the front room watching TV while they puzzled out who you were.’

‘Or how about a quiet bar?’ mused Thomas. ‘I don’t want anyone else grabbing you.’

‘I don’t drink,’ said Zar.

Thomas shrugged. ‘Explore the fruit juices while I go through the cocktail menu.’ Then added, ‘Or perhaps we could go to your pavilion…’

‘Liz wouldn’t like it.’

‘We’re not exactly going to scream from the rooftops. Or are we?’ He laughed.

‘It’d have to be with the lights off,’ said Zar.

‘All the better to get the feel of things,’ said Eddie with a smirk. His phone buzzed. He scowled as he pulled it out of his trouser pocket. ‘I hope this isn’t work stuff.’ He looked at it. ‘A text. No panic. They’re releasing Amy.’ He smiled. ‘Small fry. Though she had a lot to say, once she realised she might get off if she sang…’ He stopped and added, ‘But she wasn’t any help on Swift’s death. And I’m starting to believe it had nothing to do with the scam.’

‘How did Ian die?’

‘Didn’t I say? Poisoning of some sort. The lab report isn’t in yet.’

‘No, you didn’t tell me.’

‘I thought it would be all round the park.’

‘What sort of poison?’ said Zar.

‘That’s what I asked Liz. What poisons she kept in her greenhouse. She said nothing you could put in a coffee. OK for suicide, not for murder.’

‘She had me collecting death stalks yesterday,’ said Zar.

‘What are death stalks?’

‘Poisonous mushrooms. There’s some around the park. Deadly.’

‘I asked her about mushrooms,’ mused Eddie. ‘She told me there weren’t any. I distinctly remember that. I’ve got it in my notebook. She said there’s none in the park.’

‘There are,’ insisted Zar. ‘Well, there were. Yesterday she got me collecting them all up. I gave them to her to burn. She told me not to tell anyone.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘So there wouldn’t be a panic.’

Thomas thought a while, scratching his chin. ‘She lied to me, Zar. Now why would she do that?’

‘Because you’re a cop.’

Thomas drained his coffee and stood up. ‘It’s the little things, Zar. Pick up on the little things. We’re going to go and see her.’

‘What? Me too?’

‘She can’t lie with you there.’

Chapter 47

Jack was hungry, surprisingly so. He hadn’t eaten after work, deciding he’d make the most of the takeaway. Liz’s confession had temporarily removed his appetite, but sharing the burden with Rose brought it back again. Rose too was hungry, though attentive to Mr Swift, making him up a plate.

They talked of the food, perhaps exaggerating, a safe topic they could share. The sweetness and coconut taste of the kurma contrasting with the vegetable curry.

‘If only Ian could’ve been here,’ said Mr Swift, with a shake of the head.

Jack and Rose looked at each other. Neither picked up the topic.

‘Though he was never one for company,’ continued Mr Swift, ‘but that Amy used to come round after work. I never knew what that was about. She being married and the size of her.’

‘Some men like big women,’ said Rose. ‘More meat.’ She laughed. ‘Or chicken kurma.’

‘Ooh, but I am that stiff,’ said Mr Swift, pressing his back. ‘When I was twenty I could work like that for a month and feel nothing. Drink a dozen pints and go out dancing. Now, look at me. A few bricks and I feel like my back has broken in ten places.’

‘Early night for you,’ said Rose.

‘You can say that again.’

‘Thanks for your help today,’ said Jack. Every word had to be chipped out of ice. He’d forgotten how to speak, like Ben Gunn in
Treasure Island
.

‘We started off on the wrong foot, you and me, son,’ said Mr Swift. ‘But you took me to the hospital and you didn’t have to.’ He was wielding his fork in a rather frightening way. ‘And then came with me to the mortuary.’ The old man sighed. ‘He looked just like he had gone to sleep, did Ian. Dead hardly half an hour when we saw him.’

‘I was glad I could do something,’ said Jack. ‘Pouring with rain, so I couldn’t work anyway. Then you gave me a hand when the sun came out.’

‘Fair’s fair, mate.’

‘I was surprised how much you remembered.’

‘But didn’t I need that chair!’ He laughed, even as he winced. ‘A lot easier working from the chair. It’s all the bending that kills you.’

Jack and Rose’s hands went for the last bhaji.

‘You have it,’ he said.

‘No, you,’ she said. ‘My treat.’ Then she mouthed, ‘Got my money?’

He nodded, and said to her, ‘I should go next door.’ To Mr Swift he said, ‘I’m a bit worried about Liz. She didn’t look too well.’

‘Why don’t you take her a plate of food?’ said Rose.

‘Good idea,’ said Jack.

Rose put some bits and pieces on a plate and covered it in foil while Jack put his jacket on.

‘Good to see you, son.’

‘And you,’ called Jack, not knowing whether he’d be back or not. Though stargazing was out, but what might be in – he had little idea. The evening had taken a different direction.

Rose took the plate into the hall and said in a whisper, ‘Let’s have my cash.’

Jack dug into his pocket and took out the notes. They swapped, she the money, he the plate.

‘I’ll get Mr Swift to bed and join you,’ she said.

Jack left her. Outside, he walked quickly next door, thinking it unlikely that Liz would eat anything, considering the state he’d left her in. But it was a sociable offering. The light was on in her kitchen, though the curtains were drawn.

He rang the bell.

This dinner was cooling quickly, even though covered with foil. Well, a minute in the microwave would revive it. Liz was taking her time. This was only a little house. He rang again. Perhaps she was in the bathroom. He felt silly with the plate at the door. An offering for the harvest festival. He rang a third time. He put his ear to the door, there was no sound in the house. She might be in the bath. He put the plate down on the step and took out his phone. He phoned her, going straight to voice mail. He left a message, feeling idiotic:
I’m at your door
.

He rang the doorbell once more, and stepped back. There were no lights on upstairs. What was going on? He quickly ran next door to Rose. He rang the bell and heard her coming almost at once.

‘You’re back?’ she said. ‘What’s up?’

‘She’s not opening the door,’ he said, breathlessly. ‘I’ve rung half a dozen times.’

Rose thought for a second. ‘I’ve still got a key,’ she said. ‘Wait a sec.’ She took the food from him and went back in.

He stayed on the step, concerned about what was going on next door. And not wanting to chit chat to Mr Swift. The meal was heavy in his stomach. All this coming and going wasn’t good for digestion. Nor the worry. Liz had been in a state when he’d got her back home. He should have stayed with her, left the takeout on Mr Swift’s step. Liz could be hanging from a rafter or drowning in the bathtub, wrists slashed.

Rose returned with the key.

‘I’m just helping Mr Swift to bed,’ she said, clutching his hand for a second. ‘His back is playing him up. I’ll be over as soon as I can. The key’s a bit tricky. Keep trying.’

Jack ran next door and put the key in the lock. It wouldn’t turn. A bit tricky, she’d said. He took it out and put it in again. Again it wouldn’t turn. Was it the right key? The trouble he had with keys he was left by customers… He eased the key out slightly and this time it turned. Jack opened the door.

‘Hello,’ he called from the hallway.

‘Hello, Jack,’ Liz called back. ‘I’m in the kitchen.’

He strode in hopefully, her voice was confident at least. Though why hadn’t she opened up?

She was at the kitchen table, the remnant of a meal on her plate.

‘What are you eating?’ he said.

She shrugged. ‘Just an omelette.’

‘What sort of omelette?’

‘Mushroom.’

At once, he grabbed the plate and tipped it in the rubbish bin.

‘I’m calling an ambulance right away,’ he exclaimed.

‘I will deny it,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘Look at me, Jack. I’m fine. Haven’t the medical services got better things to do?’

‘Death stalks?’ he said.

‘What else?’

He stared at her helplessly, knowing it was pointless calling an ambulance. She did look well, too well, her cheeks red, she’d brushed her hair and tied it back with a green ribbon. Nothing like the waif in the rose garden, pitiful and appealing.

‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ she said. ‘We’ll have a coffee.’

‘Rose’ll be here in a few minutes.’

‘Three for coffee then. That’ll be nice.’

He watched as she filled the kettle. She was sprightly, the perfect hostess. Who wouldn’t open her door for him five minutes ago.

‘Why did you eat the mushrooms?’ he said.

She shrugged, taking a cafetiere and coffee down from the cupboard.

‘It’s fitting,’ she said. ‘I needn’t have poisoned Ian; he was in trouble anyway. But I was in a rush. Too desperate.’ She spooned coffee into the cafetiere as if each spoonful were a defence. ‘If only I had waited…’ She shrugged, ‘But I didn’t. And that cop is suspicious.’ She turned to him, waving the spoon. ‘Every time I see Mr Swift, I think, what have I abandoned him to.’

‘It’s a horrible death. Death stalks,’ he said, thinking of Ian’s agonizing cramps in his van as he ferried him to hospital.

‘I don’t want to lose this house,’ she said, as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘And fifteen years in prison – without this sky, the trees. I love this park, Jack. The rose garden in summer, the mist on autumn mornings, my greenhouses.’ She turned to him. ‘What will I see through prison bars?’

He struggled to find reasons for living, to counter those she’d given for dying.

‘Think of your parents,’ he said. ‘Rose.’

‘Don’t worry about Rose. She’s tough,’ she said. ‘She’ll bounce back. But think, how would my parents deal with the trial and publicity?’

She leaned against the counter, awaiting his reply. The kettle was whooshing, the poison oozing into her blood stream. He was a lousy counsellor.

‘There’s always a reason to live,’ he said. ‘There’s people, there’s books. You can paint in prison.’

The doorbell rang.

‘Rose,’ he said with relief, someone to come up with better reasons. And went to the door.

But it wasn’t Rose. Instead, standing there were DC Thomas and Zar.

‘Good evening,’ said Thomas with a smile. ‘I was passing and thought I’d drop in. I’ve a few questions for Ms Parker.’

‘She’s not feeling too well at the moment,’ said Jack.

‘Well, I won’t be long.’

He pushed past Jack into the house. Zar followed.

‘Oh, more company,’ said Liz at the kitchen door. ‘Stay in the sitting room. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just making coffee.’

Zar and DC Thomas sat on the sofa. Jack sat on the arm of an armchair. He needed a phrase book. Expressions to use when meeting people.

‘Might I ask what you’re doing here, Jack?’ said DC Thomas.

‘Social call,’ said Jack awkwardly. ‘I was having a meal with Rose and Mr Swift and thought I’d pop over.’

He noted Zar was fidgety. Cops made everyone feel guilty. Everyone has secrets.

‘Hello, Zar.’ He could manage that much.

‘Hello, Jack.’

‘Been out?’

Zar shrugged. ‘Just for a pizza.’

Liz came in with a plate of shortbread which she put on the coffee table.

‘Pleasant room you have here, Ms Parker,’ said Thomas. ‘Are they your paintings?’

‘Yes, they are,’ she said. ‘That one’s of the park. You probably won’t know the others.’

‘Hampstead Heath,’ said Zar.

‘Well done,’ she said. ‘You’re very observant.’

‘She’s had a meal of death stalks,’ exclaimed Jack. It burst out of him. The politeness. Biscuits and coffee. He had to say it.

‘Don’t be stupid, Jack,’ she retorted. She turned to the others. ‘I played a little joke on him. And he’s been completely taken in.’

‘Doesn’t sound much of a joke,’ said Thomas.

She shrugged. ‘You’re right. It wasn’t. Totally bad taste. I made a mushroom omelette. What’s that, said Jack when he saw me eating it. Death stalk omelette I said.’ She chuckled. ‘I have a silly sense of humour.’

‘It’s in the kitchen bin,’ said Jack.

‘Take a look, Zar,’ said Thomas.

Zar went into the kitchen.

‘She has taken them,’ insisted Jack. ‘They don’t take effect immediately…’

‘8 to 12 hours,’ said Thomas.

‘She’s standing there, playing whatever game with us. And dying,’ said Jack.

‘That’s enough!’ shouted Liz. She turned to the detective. ‘Men!’ She threw up her hands. ‘I told him I didn’t want an affair… And now see what he’s doing to me.’

‘She’s taken poison. Believe me,’ insisted Jack.

‘Get out!’ yelled Liz. ‘Out of my house, right now.’ She pushed him off the arm of the chair. ‘Out! I never want you here again. You forced your way in. Go, get out of my house. I’ll release the park gate for you.’ She continued pushing him, he backed off. She turned to Thomas. ‘Will you help me get him out, officer?’

‘I think you’d best leave, Jack,’ said Thomas.

‘I’m not lying,’ he insisted, looking for assistance to the detective and Zar.

‘Then I’ll find out. But this is Ms Parker’s house, and if she wants you out – then you’d better go.’

Jack looked at Liz, her face screwed in frenzy. He threw up his hands.

‘Don’t say I haven’t told you.’

And left, slamming the front door.

In the cold night air, he wondered what to do. He’d told them about the death stalks, but not her confession. Perhaps he should have done. But he couldn’t. Even when she’d turned on him.

He was going out the garden gate when Rose bumped into him.

‘Jack!’ she exclaimed, feeling his body in the gloom. ‘You gave me such a shock. Sorry I’ve been so long. Had to give Mr Swift a back massage. Where’re you going?’

‘Home.’

‘Oh, you can’t.’

‘Oh I can. Your sister…’ He waved his hands in frustration. He’d lost the power of civil communication. ‘She’s poisoned herself and is pretending she hasn’t.’