... even if it was only a pittance that she had to find?"
There was a long silence.
"What aren't you telling me?" demanded Wendy finally.
I took time to consider my answer, but in the end I decided to be straight with her. "I met Sheila Arnold recently ,.. Annie's doctor. She told me Annie was robbed. Now I'm wondering who robbed her, how much they made on the deal and what the money was used for."
"Oh, dear, dear," said Wendy with genuine concern. "I really don't think there's any truth in that story. Sheila only came up with it when she was accused of neglecting another patient-and that was three or four years after Annie died. She wasn't remotely interested until her own interests were compromised." She tapped the tips of her fingers together in agitation. "It was all a bit strange. Not a word said for ages ... then suddenly Sheila expects us to believe that, far from being the vulnerable soul we thought she was, Annie was a wealthy woman, living in comfort, until shortly before she died. It all became very unpleasant very quickly ... insults being thrown about ... everyone accusing everyone else of lying."
I didn't say anything, and she seemed to think she'd upset me.
"Are you disappointed?" she asked. "I'm so sorry. Peter told me what a shock Annie's death was to you."
"Please don't apologize." I wondered what else Peter had divulged. "I'm not disappointed." I opened my rucksack to reveal a six-inch-thick file, then took out an envelope of press clippings and flicked through the pile till I came to June 1982. "Is this the story you mean?" I asked her, handing her the "Local doctor denies neglect" report.
"Yes," she said slowly, glancing up from the yellowed paper. "How long have you had it?"
"Sixteen years. It was the fifth time Annie's name was mentioned in the press since the publicity over her death. These"-I removed the remaining clippings from the envelope and flicked my thumb down the guillotined edges-"are all the other references. Her case is generally cited to illustrate the dangers of allowing vulnerable people to fend for themselves." I smiled slightly at Wendy's expression. "Various friends save articles for me. Also, I pay my old university library to monitor the local and national press for any mention of Ann Butts," I explained.
"Good gracious!"
"And for any mention of the two police officers who investigated her death," I went on, removing another envelope. "These are the articles that refer to them. One, PC Quentin, died in a car crash seven years ago. The other, PS Drury, retired from the police in 1990 to take over a pub in the Radley brewery chain. There are also clippings about anyone mentioned in previous articles ... for example, there's a reference to Dr. Arnold's move to Dorchester ... and one about you and your husband leaving St. Mark's to take up a parish in the west country."
She looked at the piece on Sheila's alleged negligence. "The previous reference to us being Peter's quote at the end, I suppose?"
I nodded. "He didn't pull any punches either. "There's no excuse for this kind of neglect. Lessons should have been learnt ... so that the same mistakes could not happen again.' " My eyes strayed toward the jade figurine. "Did he know what he was talking about? Had he ever been inside Annie's house?"
Wendy shook her head. "She wouldn't give him the time of day because she knew Maureen took refuge at the vicarage."
"Then he had no business to talk about 'this kind of neglect,' " I said lightly. "It suggests an informed comparison, which he couldn't make, and it was hardly surprising that Sheila was upset about it."
"I know," she agreed unhappily. "The only good thing is, he didn't mention her by name."
I shrugged. "He didn't need to. It's perfectly clear who he's talking about. In any case, the newspaper probably edited it out to avoid a libel suit. The whole article's carefully constructed to record Sheila's denials of neglect without ever actually accusing her of it."
Wendy
There was a long silence.
"What aren't you telling me?" demanded Wendy finally.
I took time to consider my answer, but in the end I decided to be straight with her. "I met Sheila Arnold recently ,.. Annie's doctor. She told me Annie was robbed. Now I'm wondering who robbed her, how much they made on the deal and what the money was used for."
"Oh, dear, dear," said Wendy with genuine concern. "I really don't think there's any truth in that story. Sheila only came up with it when she was accused of neglecting another patient-and that was three or four years after Annie died. She wasn't remotely interested until her own interests were compromised." She tapped the tips of her fingers together in agitation. "It was all a bit strange. Not a word said for ages ... then suddenly Sheila expects us to believe that, far from being the vulnerable soul we thought she was, Annie was a wealthy woman, living in comfort, until shortly before she died. It all became very unpleasant very quickly ... insults being thrown about ... everyone accusing everyone else of lying."
I didn't say anything, and she seemed to think she'd upset me.
"Are you disappointed?" she asked. "I'm so sorry. Peter told me what a shock Annie's death was to you."
"Please don't apologize." I wondered what else Peter had divulged. "I'm not disappointed." I opened my rucksack to reveal a six-inch-thick file, then took out an envelope of press clippings and flicked through the pile till I came to June 1982. "Is this the story you mean?" I asked her, handing her the "Local doctor denies neglect" report.
"Yes," she said slowly, glancing up from the yellowed paper. "How long have you had it?"
"Sixteen years. It was the fifth time Annie's name was mentioned in the press since the publicity over her death. These"-I removed the remaining clippings from the envelope and flicked my thumb down the guillotined edges-"are all the other references. Her case is generally cited to illustrate the dangers of allowing vulnerable people to fend for themselves." I smiled slightly at Wendy's expression. "Various friends save articles for me. Also, I pay my old university library to monitor the local and national press for any mention of Ann Butts," I explained.
"Good gracious!"
"And for any mention of the two police officers who investigated her death," I went on, removing another envelope. "These are the articles that refer to them. One, PC Quentin, died in a car crash seven years ago. The other, PS Drury, retired from the police in 1990 to take over a pub in the Radley brewery chain. There are also clippings about anyone mentioned in previous articles ... for example, there's a reference to Dr. Arnold's move to Dorchester ... and one about you and your husband leaving St. Mark's to take up a parish in the west country."
She looked at the piece on Sheila's alleged negligence. "The previous reference to us being Peter's quote at the end, I suppose?"
I nodded. "He didn't pull any punches either. "There's no excuse for this kind of neglect. Lessons should have been learnt ... so that the same mistakes could not happen again.' " My eyes strayed toward the jade figurine. "Did he know what he was talking about? Had he ever been inside Annie's house?"
Wendy shook her head. "She wouldn't give him the time of day because she knew Maureen took refuge at the vicarage."
"Then he had no business to talk about 'this kind of neglect,' " I said lightly. "It suggests an informed comparison, which he couldn't make, and it was hardly surprising that Sheila was upset about it."
"I know," she agreed unhappily. "The only good thing is, he didn't mention her by name."
I shrugged. "He didn't need to. It's perfectly clear who he's talking about. In any case, the newspaper probably edited it out to avoid a libel suit. The whole article's carefully constructed to record Sheila's denials of neglect without ever actually accusing her of it."
Wendy
Similar Books
