Chapter Twenty-Four

“The bruising on your face is much more noticeable today, and there’s some swelling around your eye,” Penny said that evening as she peered at Jimmy’s face. “Sometimes you don’t feel the full effects of a fall until the next day.” She set her handbag down, then dropped into the visitor’s chair. “Has the doctor been in to see you?”

Jimmy shook his head. “The nurse had a look at me this morning and she said she’d check my face again at bedtime. She put me on the list for the next doctor’s visit. That’s tomorrow or the day after.”

“Good. And what did you get up to today?”

“I stayed in bed most of the morning and then sat in the lounge for a bit this afternoon like I usually do, but people didn’t know what to make of me.” He raised a hand to the side of his face. “The men avoided looking at me and the women fussed over me. I had my tea in the dining room, but I felt uncomfortable. By then I’d just had enough of everything, so I came back to my room as soon as I’d finished.” He let out a small sigh of defeat and resignation. “To be honest, I feel safer in here, with the door closed. Anyway, you said you’d pop in on your way from work, so I thought it would be better if we chatted in here. In private, like. But I think I’d like the door open now, if that’s all right with you.”

“I’m sorry you don’t feel safe,” said Penny as she rose and crossed the room to open the door. “But you’re probably safer when you’re with the rest of the group. Nobody would try anything when you’re surrounded by other people. But it’s good for us to visit in here so we can talk without fear of being overheard.”

“Most everybody in the home is hard of hearing,” replied Jimmy with a wan smile. “But there’s some who can hear just fine.”

“And the staff can hear just fine, too.” Penny leaned forward. “Have you had a chance to think about whether you were asking questions or talking about anything that could be considered, well, sensitive? Anything to do with the theft of the Black Chair? And who might have overheard you? Did you discuss that with any of your mates? Maybe offered an opinion on what you think might have happened that showed a little too much insight?”

“I talked about it with you, didn’t I?”

“That’s right,” Penny agreed. “Of course we did.” Jimmy held out his hand to her, and she took it. “Isn’t it strange that Bethan and I asked you last night if you’d spoken to anyone, and it never occurred to me to include myself.”

A shadow falling on the hall floor outside Jimmy’s room caught their attention, and a moment later the figure of Mrs. Lynch filled the door frame.

“Evening, Jimmy,” she said with a cheery little wave. “All right?”

“Yes, thanks,” Jimmy replied. Mrs. Lynch gave Penny a tight-lipped smile and then continued on her way.

After a moment, Penny spoke. “Bethan said she didn’t think any of your mates could have pushed you out of your chair, but do you think she could have done it?” She tipped her head toward the door.

“She might have been able to manage it physically, but she doesn’t smoke. She said she gave it up a few years ago when she was diagnosed with a medical condition to do with her circulation that causes problems with the veins in her legs. And I got a really strong smell of cigarette smoke from the person behind me, remember.”

“So you did. Does she get many visitors, this Mrs. Lynch?”

“She seems to have a close family. There’s a woman who might be her daughter. Blonde, and looks older than she probably is. Got a hard look about her, like she’s been ridden hard and put away wet. She’s only been coming around in the past few days. And then there’s a younger fellow; I’d say he’d be in his early twenties. Maybe a grandson? He’s been coming to see her for a bit longer. And then there’s a woman about her own age. Someone told me that was her sister and the reason Mrs. Lynch chose this home was to be close to her. She visits quite often, but to be honest, I don’t think it’ll be long before she’s in here herself.”

“You’ve still got your observation skills,” said Penny.

“Well, there’s not much else to do in here except observe,” replied Jimmy. “People in here tend to take a keen interest in everybody else’s business. I guess we see it as a form of entertainment.”

“So,” said Penny. “If we leave Mrs. Lynch and her sister out of it, one of the other two could have tipped you out of your chair last night. The blonde woman or the young man.”

“They could have,” agreed Jimmy. “But there’s something about Mrs. Lynch that bothers me. My instincts are telling me something’s not right. I don’t think she’s all she makes out to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, have you ever heard the expression ‘You can’t kid a kidder’?”

Penny wagged her head. “Hmm. I’ve heard it, but I’m not really sure what it means.”

“It means something like, ‘It takes one to know one.’ And I recognize a thief when I see one.”

Penny shifted in her chair and leaned closer to him. “What do you mean? Has residents’ property gone missing?”

“Not that I’ve heard, and certainly nothing of mine has.”

“Well, what then?”

“I could be wrong, but I’ve got this feeling about her. I think she’s a wrong ’un. Apparently Mrs. Lynch used to be the housekeeper to some posh lord or somebody before her health forced her to retire. Always banging on about him, she is. ‘Sir Tony’ this, ‘Sir Tony’ that. And of course, nothing in here is up to her standards, because she knows how things should be done. Proper, like. But underneath that veneer of gentility, there’s something else. Something coarse and unappealing. I think she came up the hard way, and I don’t think she’s as genteel as she’d like everybody to think she is.

“But here’s what makes me think she’s a thief. She’s always on that mobile of hers in the lounge. I started paying attention, and from what I’ve been able to overhear, it’s not the usual family chitchat, you know, having a natter about what the grandkids are up to. It’s like she’s running a business, and it’s the same kind of talk I used to be involved in back when I was, well, let’s call it working. She’s always asking about times, pickup and drop-off points, telling people what needs doing and when—that sort of thing.”

“What needs doing?”

“I don’t have specifics, but she’s giving orders. I got a sense of her being in charge. And she’s quite secretive about it. If she thinks that someone’s listening, she moves away.”

“Maybe she’s just trying to be polite and make sure her talking on her phone doesn’t bother other people. And if it’s privacy she’s after, why does she make those calls in the lounge? Why not her room?”

“Because the telephone reception in the rooms is rubbish on the mobiles. Works better in the lounge, for some reason.” He shifted in his chair and adjusted the blanket covering his knees as Penny remained silent. “What is it? Is something the matter?”

“Well, it’s just that you’ve got me thinking. I might have said something I shouldn’t have this morning,” Penny said.

“Oh, what’s that?”

“Well, there are travellers camping out down the road from me, and I met some of them on the ferry from Dublin. There’s a girl, she’s fifteen, and I got talking to her this morning. She told me she wants to finish high school and then go on to college, but there’s cultural pressure on her to get married. She’s fifteen, for heaven’s sake! The conversation really bothered me. Anyway, I told her where I lived.”

“Oh, I see,” said Jimmy. “And now you’re afraid you’ll come home to find them squatting in your house or you’ve been robbed. She was probably told what to say to get you to feel sorry for her, so you’d give away where you live.”

“I know their reputation, and what everyone says about them, so that’s why I’m a bit worried. I hope nothing will happen.”

“Just make sure you lock your doors, although even that’s no guarantee. But they never stay in one place very long, so they’ll probably move on soon.”

“You’re the third person to tell me that,” said Penny, “about locking my doors. Which reminds me. I don’t think I told you that your old nemesis, Gareth Davies, has moved away.”

“I thought he’d already moved away. Scotland, wasn’t it?”

“It was. And now he’s really gone.”

“For good?”

“For good. He was back for a few days to finalize the sale of his house.”

“Well, as coppers go, he was all right. Not bent like some of them. Planting evidence to stitch you up whether you’d actually done the job or not. But at least he was honest. Good at his job, too. If he thought you’d done something, you probably had.” He gave Penny a sly look. “And how do you feel about him going? No regrets?”

“I feel just fine. I want him to be happy. No regrets.”

“I always hoped there’d be something between you two.”

“You and everybody else. But it just wasn’t to be.”

“Well, if it’s not there, it’s not there,” said Jimmy. “Whatever ‘it’ is.”