Molly had told the nurse she wasn’t in pain but a dull throb started in her head. She reached up and slid her hand across her forehead as if she could wipe it away. ‘You’ll have to forgive me if I sound a little dopey,’ she said. ‘Did you really tell me that someone tried to kill me?’
‘It’s a line of enquiry we’re following,’ Fanshawe said. ‘There was a woman with a pushchair beside you. She said you seemed distracted, but that you were waiting patiently for the lights to change when suddenly you went flying in front of a car.’
The dull throb in Molly’s head ratcheted up a notch. She didn’t need it to be spelled out. ‘Someone pushed me.’ She nodded slowly. ‘Yes, I remember. I felt a blow to my back.’
Fanshawe leaned closer, his eyes meeting hers. ‘The car that hit you was a four-by-four with bull bars; if you hadn’t managed to turn as you did, if it had hit you full on, chances are we wouldn’t be talking now.’
A wave of nausea swept over her. She grabbed a kidney dish that had been left within reach and held it in front of her mouth. It was almost amusing to see how fast the two policemen moved out of the line of fire. A few deep breaths and the feeling passed. Her head was pounding, she needed the nurse to give her something to take it away. ‘Why would someone try to kill me?’
Fanshawe drew closer again. ‘They probably hoped it would look like an accident. There was a crush of people waiting; but the woman with the baby is one of us, a copper, she was quite clear about what she saw.’ He sat back and shook his head. ‘In the ensuing chaos, nobody saw anyone running away but there’s a CCTV camera on that corner and we’ve had a look at the footage. Directly behind you in the crowd waiting to cross was a hooded figure. They kept their head down so we couldn’t see their face, nor could we see the assault but as you went flying forward, he… or she… pushed through the crowd and hurried away. Trawling through footage from various CCTV cameras in the area didn’t show us where he went which is itself suspicious.’ Fanshawe nodded. ‘So, to answer your question, Mrs Chatwell, yes, we think someone tried to kill you. And as we don’t believe in coincidence, we think it must have a connection somehow to the murder of Lucien Pleasant. What we’re struggling to understand is what that connection could possibly be.’
Still in shock from the accident, reeling from the knowledge that it had been deliberate, Molly couldn’t handle any more. A sob started deep inside, a few hiccups before it came loud and pathetic. And she couldn’t stop.
She saw Fanshawe’s expression turn from sombre to sympathetic to helpless in a series of slight facial movements that she normally wouldn’t have noticed. She did now because in her whirling, swirling world, he seemed to be the only thing to anchor her.
He poked the unaffected Carstairs in the arm and whispered something Molly didn’t catch, but whatever it was made him leave the room. Moments later, he returned with the nurse in tow.
‘That’s enough,’ Edel said, holding the door open. She stood there with one hand on it, waiting for them to leave. ‘Any further questions will have to wait.’
Fanshawe stood and with a brief sympathetic smile for Molly, he and Carstairs left the room. Edel shut the door firmly behind them, took a handful of paper tissues from a box and put them into Molly’s free hand. ‘I’ll be back in a jiffy,’ she said and vanished.
When she returned, there was a metal tray in her hand. ‘This will help,’ she said, putting it down on the bedside locker and injecting something into the intravenous bung in Molly’s left hand. ‘There you go,’ Edel said, soothingly, adjusting the drip and standing back. ‘You’ll feel better in a minute.’
Molly hoped the nurse was right.
When Molly woke, the hypnotic beep from the monitor was once again reassuring. She opened her eyes slowly and glanced around the room, half-expecting to see Jack, unsure whether to be relieved or upset to see she was alone. A sigh made her wince slightly and reach a hand to hold her chest. Ah yes, she’d a vague memory of being told she’d broken a rib. She moved all her limbs one by one, feeling a lot of aches especially on her right side, but no severe pain. Whatever the nurse had given her had worked. Apart from the monitor, the room was quiet. Molly felt calm and drifted back to sleep.
When she woke again, she lay with her eyes shut, wondering if she could stay where she was until everything was sorted and her life had returned to normal. Expecting the room to be empty, she was surprised when she eventually opened her eyes to see Jack sitting in a chair beside the bed. He was slumped down, tie askew. She took in the pallor, the dark circles under his eyes, the angles on his cheek that were becoming more noticeable.
He looked worse than she felt.
When she saw the stubble on his chin, she wondered how long she’d been there and looked around for the time. It was on the bottom right corner of the monitor screen. 7am. She’d slept the afternoon and night away. Whatever the nurse had given her had worked; she wished she could take it with her, she hadn’t felt so good in a long time. Drug-induced euphoria, it probably wouldn’t last for long. She frowned. Everything was a blur, but she had a vague idea that the police had called to see her yesterday. She was still trying to puzzle it out when Jack opened his eyes and saw her awake.
‘Thank God,’ he said, moving over and taking her hand.
She squeezed his fingers and managed a reassuring smile. ‘Have you been sitting there all night? I’m okay, Jack, honest. A broken rib, and lots of bruises, that’s all.’
Lifting her hand, he planted a kiss on the back of it. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin as he struggled to control tears. ‘The police said someone tried to kill you,’ he mumbled, his lips still against her hand.
Of course! She remembered now. She reached her hand up to caress his head, brushing a lock of his hair back. ‘That’s what they’re saying.’ She smiled. ‘Whatever drugs they’re giving me are great, because I can’t seem to care.’
His eyes bored into hers. ‘Do they have any suspects? Witnesses must have seen something.’
‘I don’t know, I really can’t remember much of what was said.’
‘They’re taking it seriously anyway. There’s a uniformed officer outside your room.’
‘Really?’ Her eyes widened.
‘That’s why you’re in this spacious private room too. The police insisted for security reasons. Normally, you’d still be on a trolley in A & E.’
‘Something to be thankful for.’ Her eyes were heavy, she shut them as Jack continued to hold her hand. ‘I was supposed to be meeting Amelia,’ she mumbled. ‘She called around Friday morning.’
‘Amelia?’ His tone startled her into opening her eyes.
‘What is it?’
He pressed his lips together for a moment before tightening his grip on her hand. ‘Your life seems to have become a disaster since that weekend in Semington.’
Molly looked at him in dismay. Hadn’t she been a little suspicious of Amelia? She tried to remember why, but her head was fuzzy.
Jack leaned closer. ‘You go away for the weekend with her and get involved with a man who is then murdered. She calls on you and someone tries to kill you. It seems clear to me what the common denominator is.’
The fuzziness in her head cleared a little. Amelia. Amazing brown eyes, she’d said. That’s what had started her suspicions. ‘Yes,’ Molly said vaguely.
‘You have to tell the police,’ Jack insisted, running a hand through his hair, his eyes bleak. ‘They said they were coming back today. I gather you were still in shock yesterday when they tried to speak to you.’
Molly had a vague memory that she’d collapsed in a sobbing mess, but shock sounded better. They were coming back; she’d tell them her suspicions about Amelia.
There was a soft knock on the door, a nurse peered around the edge and came in when she saw Molly awake. ‘I’m Jane,’ she said, ‘do you feel up to some breakfast?’ She checked the monitor as she spoke, writing information on the clipboard as she waited for an answer.
‘Coffee would be great.’
‘And a slice of toast?’ The nurse smiled. ‘You’ll feel a lot better if you eat something, you know.’
Smiling at her insistence, Molly agreed to try.
‘Good, I’ll go and get that sorted. Do you need pain relief? No, okay, let me know if you do. The police,’ she added, ‘said they’d be here to speak to you at ten. The consultant does his rounds about eleven, and we’re anticipating he will discharge you home at that stage.’
‘Discharge?’ Jack looked at the nurse in disbelief. ‘She was knocked down; she’s got a broken rib for Pete’s sake. There’s no way she’s ready to go home.’
Molly tried to grasp his arm, but he’d stood to confront the nurse. ‘Jack, it’s okay, I’ll be better at home.’
The nurse spoke soothingly. ‘Your wife is doing fine, Mr Chatwell. There is nothing to be done for broken ribs, except to take pain relief as needed and to be careful until they heal. She would be better off in the comfort of her home.’ She threw a smile towards Molly, gave Jack a guarded look and left.
‘Ridiculous,’ Jack said when she’d left. He paced the room restlessly.
Molly was tired already. ‘Why don’t you go home and get some rest. I’ll be depending on you to be alert later.’
He frowned. ‘You sure you don’t want me to be here when the police come?’
‘Positive. Go home, get some sleep, then come back like a knight in shining armour and rescue me.’
It made him smile. ‘I’ll ride to your rescue, fair maiden.’ He leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. ‘Stay safe until I get back.’
It was peaceful when he’d gone. She lay trying to think of nothing, slightly annoyed when the door opened.
The young man, who came through carrying a tray, introduced himself as Geoff. He put the tray on the bed table and pulled it within her reach. ‘Can you manage everything?’ he asked, fussing with the position of the cup and knife.
The aroma of coffee drifted toward her; she nodded gratefully and reached to pick up the cup. It was surprisingly good. The toast was freshly made; she spread butter and marmalade awkwardly with one hand and despite thinking she wouldn’t, she ate the two slices.
She had almost finished the coffee, her mind once again wandering, when she was brought back to earth by a knock on the door. ‘Come in,’ she called, guessing it would be the two detectives she was starting to refer to in her head as hers.
DI Fanshawe smiled at her. ‘You’re looking a little better than yesterday at any rate,’ he said, pulling a chair over to sit. ‘You feel up to talking?’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘in fact, I have something interesting to tell you.’
‘Oh?’ he said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Go ahead.’
DS Carstairs, sitting slightly behind, took out a tatty notebook and cheap pen and looked at her expectantly. She would have preferred to speak to Fanshawe alone. There was something about the sergeant that made her squirm. It was the way his eyes were constantly assessing her and finding her wanting.
Trying to ignore him, she took a steadying breath and told them about Amelia, the remark about the brown eyes that had started her suspicions, the fact that she’d called to her house on the very day she’d been knocked down. She debated adding her other worry; that everything had started going wrong in her life not, as Jack had suggested from the weekend in Semington, but from when Amelia and Tristan returned to London. It sounded so crazy, she decided against mentioning it. She didn’t want to sound paranoid.
‘She knew where you were going on Friday?’ Fanshawe asked.
‘Yes, she suggested I should get a taxi and I remember saying that Casper’s was only a few minutes’ walk from the station.’
‘Who else knew where you’d be?’
Molly picked up her empty coffee cup to delay answering until she gave it some thought. She’d forgotten all about Stuart and wondered how long he had waited for her. ‘The friend I was meeting,’ she said slowly, anticipating their next question, a slight colour already rising in her cheeks.
‘And this friend is?’
Her hesitation made it look as if she’d something to hide, as did the stumble as she told them his name. ‘Stu... Stuart Mercer, he’s an old friend.’
‘Friend?’ Fanshawe looked at her. ‘Or lover?’
Her cheeks flamed. She’d have loved to be able to use the phrase what kind of woman do you think I am, but unfortunately they already had a fair idea. ‘A friend. To be precise, he’s a work colleague of my husband’s.’
‘And Mr Chatwell knew you were meeting him? He knew you’d be in that café?’
‘No, neither. I’d gone to meet Stuart because I’m worried about my husband. Jack is a very private man when it comes to his work, he wouldn’t confide in me if he were having problems, so I thought I’d ask Stuart.’
Fanshawe looked at her with sudden interest. ‘What kind of problems?’
Molly huffed in exasperation. ‘I don’t know, do I? I never got to meet Stuart thanks to whatever idiot tried to push me under that damn car.’
‘So only two people knew where you were going to be?’ Fanshawe said. ‘Amelia Lovell and Stuart Mercer.’
Molly looked at him in horror. ‘Stuart would have absolutely no reason to harm me.’
‘That you know of,’ Fanshawe said, unperturbed. ‘Your suspicions of Amelia Lovell are based on a simple slip-up, brown eyes instead of turquoise. And that she happened to call upon you on the morning you were knocked down.’ He held a hand up when he saw she was going to argue. ‘I’ve been a detective for a long time, I’ve heard more preposterous ideas. I’m not ruling anything out yet.’
‘You’ll speak to her?’
‘To her, and to Stuart Mercer.’ Fanshawe stood. ‘You’re being discharged today. We don’t have the manpower to post an officer outside your home, but I will ask for a car to pass down your street as often as possible.’ He gave a quick smile. ‘Which won’t be often, I’m sorry to say. Go home, keep your house alarm on, don’t go out alone, don’t let anyone in. I assume your husband is collecting you?’ When she nodded, Fanshawe handed her his card. ‘This is my direct number. If you see or hear anything suspicious, ring me immediately.’
She looked at the card. Somebody wanted to kill her. It was a chilling thought. It was even more chilling to remember that somebody had murdered Lucien Pleasant.
‘Will they try again?’
Fanshawe kept his eyes fixed on hers. ‘We are working hard to pin down some connection between you and Pleasant. If it’s there, we’ll find it.’
‘If it’s there?’ She put his card down on the bed table. ‘If it’s not, if it is some weird coincidence, then despite what that woman… that copper said… maybe my accident was simply that, an accident.’
‘Maybe,’ he said and with a final nod, he and Carstairs left.
‘Maybe, my ass,’ Molly muttered as the door clicked shut after them. A connection between her and Pleasant. Once again, she faced the only truth she could see, it had to be something to do with Amelia.