didn’t seem to be running out of steam, so averagely active. He was carrying a bag which chinked as he ran. He turned out of the drive and was gone. Jacquie ran into the dining hall and grabbed a walkie-talkie from a startled SOCO and patched herself through to Henry Hall.
‘Guv,’ she said. ‘I think we need more bodies here. Mrs Matthews has just been attacked, although I think by accident. I think the man who did it has made away with some evidence.’
The SOCO men looked up as one. Then, one broke ranks and rushed to the serving counter. He looked round at the others. ‘Oh, bugger,’ he said. ‘She’s fucking right as well. Some wanker has stolen the cocktail dishes off of the side.’
Jacquie addressed the walkie-talkie. ‘Did you hear that, guv?’
Hall’s sigh echoed round the cavernous room. ‘Yes, Jacquie. I’m on my way – if only to remind my team of the need for modified language in a public place.’
She broke the connection and looked around the assembled white suits. They were uncharacteristically silent. The pounding hearts and dry throats thudded and scraped in the quietness. A devil took hold of Jacquie. ‘Now, sit down at the tables, boys,’ she said. ‘Backs straight. No talking. You’re all in detention.’ She turned on her heel and was almost through the door before the first expletive hurtled after her.
Sylvia was sitting on a bench outside, rubbing her elbow and ruefully examining a gash on her leg. She had not been as lucky as Jacquie, with her handy gym kit pillow to land on. She had landed half on a bench and was battered and bruised. Also, Jacquie’s knee had caught her in the small of the back and she could feel it stiffening up as she sat there.
‘Are you all right, Sylvia?’ Jacquie said, sitting beside her. ‘Do you want to go to the hospital?’
Sylvia shuddered. ‘God, no,’ she said and tried a small smile. ‘I hate those places. MRSA. C. difficile. E. coli. I’ll be all right. I just need a nice hot bath and a lie-down and I’ll be right as rain.’ She turned. ‘Are you all right? I landed on you, didn’t I?’
‘A bit,’ Jacquie said. ‘I think I must have hurt you with my knee. But I bounced on the piles of crap those girls had kindly left on the floor, so don’t worry. Henry Hall’s on his way.’
‘Why?’ Sylvia was wide-eyed. ‘Just because some bloody kid gave me a shove?’
‘That was no kid,’ Jacquie said. ‘That was a man, and not a youngster at that. He was wearing quite expensive clothes and didn’t run like a young person. He was over fifty, I’d say, or if not, then not used to running. He was carrying a bag.’
Sylvia waited for the punchline.
‘It had the prawn cocktail dishes in it. The SOCO guys had left them lined up on the counter. He must have crept in and just taken them.’
‘Why would he do that?’ Sylvia asked.
‘Because, Nurse Matthews, you were just knocked over by our murderer, unless I seriously miss my guess.’
And, with no fuss or preamble, Sylvia Matthews, SRN, slid gracefully off the bench and onto the ground in her first faint in living memory. What would Miss Nightingale have said?
‘So I didn’t really know what to do,’ said Jacquie, snuggling up to Maxwell when the day was finally done. ‘The designated First Aider was lying at my feet in a heap. So I put her in the recovery position and yelled for help. Then one of the SOCOs came out in all his white stuff and leant over her. She woke up, saw him, passed out again. She’s not really cut out for crime.’
‘I think you’re right there,’ Maxwell agreed. ‘Blood, gore, various body bits, which I hope never to have more than a passing acquaintance with, being presented to her day in and day out. But a little brush with a murderer and she goes to pieces. Tcha.’
‘Tcha?’ Jacquie rose up on an elbow and looked at him. ‘Nobody says “Tcha”.’
‘I do and I’m proud of it. I’ll say it again. Tcha! It’s a sort of
‘Guv,’ she said. ‘I think we need more bodies here. Mrs Matthews has just been attacked, although I think by accident. I think the man who did it has made away with some evidence.’
The SOCO men looked up as one. Then, one broke ranks and rushed to the serving counter. He looked round at the others. ‘Oh, bugger,’ he said. ‘She’s fucking right as well. Some wanker has stolen the cocktail dishes off of the side.’
Jacquie addressed the walkie-talkie. ‘Did you hear that, guv?’
Hall’s sigh echoed round the cavernous room. ‘Yes, Jacquie. I’m on my way – if only to remind my team of the need for modified language in a public place.’
She broke the connection and looked around the assembled white suits. They were uncharacteristically silent. The pounding hearts and dry throats thudded and scraped in the quietness. A devil took hold of Jacquie. ‘Now, sit down at the tables, boys,’ she said. ‘Backs straight. No talking. You’re all in detention.’ She turned on her heel and was almost through the door before the first expletive hurtled after her.
Sylvia was sitting on a bench outside, rubbing her elbow and ruefully examining a gash on her leg. She had not been as lucky as Jacquie, with her handy gym kit pillow to land on. She had landed half on a bench and was battered and bruised. Also, Jacquie’s knee had caught her in the small of the back and she could feel it stiffening up as she sat there.
‘Are you all right, Sylvia?’ Jacquie said, sitting beside her. ‘Do you want to go to the hospital?’
Sylvia shuddered. ‘God, no,’ she said and tried a small smile. ‘I hate those places. MRSA. C. difficile. E. coli. I’ll be all right. I just need a nice hot bath and a lie-down and I’ll be right as rain.’ She turned. ‘Are you all right? I landed on you, didn’t I?’
‘A bit,’ Jacquie said. ‘I think I must have hurt you with my knee. But I bounced on the piles of crap those girls had kindly left on the floor, so don’t worry. Henry Hall’s on his way.’
‘Why?’ Sylvia was wide-eyed. ‘Just because some bloody kid gave me a shove?’
‘That was no kid,’ Jacquie said. ‘That was a man, and not a youngster at that. He was wearing quite expensive clothes and didn’t run like a young person. He was over fifty, I’d say, or if not, then not used to running. He was carrying a bag.’
Sylvia waited for the punchline.
‘It had the prawn cocktail dishes in it. The SOCO guys had left them lined up on the counter. He must have crept in and just taken them.’
‘Why would he do that?’ Sylvia asked.
‘Because, Nurse Matthews, you were just knocked over by our murderer, unless I seriously miss my guess.’
And, with no fuss or preamble, Sylvia Matthews, SRN, slid gracefully off the bench and onto the ground in her first faint in living memory. What would Miss Nightingale have said?
‘So I didn’t really know what to do,’ said Jacquie, snuggling up to Maxwell when the day was finally done. ‘The designated First Aider was lying at my feet in a heap. So I put her in the recovery position and yelled for help. Then one of the SOCOs came out in all his white stuff and leant over her. She woke up, saw him, passed out again. She’s not really cut out for crime.’
‘I think you’re right there,’ Maxwell agreed. ‘Blood, gore, various body bits, which I hope never to have more than a passing acquaintance with, being presented to her day in and day out. But a little brush with a murderer and she goes to pieces. Tcha.’
‘Tcha?’ Jacquie rose up on an elbow and looked at him. ‘Nobody says “Tcha”.’
‘I do and I’m proud of it. I’ll say it again. Tcha! It’s a sort of