Paul Burlington. Jamie Robbins. The young man’s face, full of youth and ambition.
Why did he feel he knew him? Perhaps Ursula would know.
Thinking of her now, guilt piled onto the emotions he already felt and he sat quietly contemplating what they’d sacrificed.
He’d been told that the drugs prolonged her life, but for what? So she could gaze across the water and see what she couldn’t achieve for the rest of her life? He couldn’t really tell if she was happy. But she’d trusted him like a small child trusts a parent. They’d come here together happy and fit. They’d taken the money, built a life, thinking their futures made.
Had Jamie Robbins made the same mistake? Who had he trusted? Did that faith kill him like it killed his wife?
The realisation hit Melvin like a rocket and his cognition collided with reality. He looked at one of the bottles on the floor and saw that the use-by date had expired years ago.
Ursula was no longer with him. There was no bed. No favourite chair and no walks along the coffin trail.
He slammed his hand into a cupboard and red-hot pain cut into it and he cried out because he now remembered with vivid clarity that Ursula was dead. She’d passed a long time ago. His habit of forgetting was a side effect of the treatment but the lapses in and out of certainty took their toll on him and he lowered his head into his hands. The one he’d injured throbbed in agony but at least it reminded him of the truth. Now the long loneliness hit him and he realised he’d rather forget. He’d prefer to be somewhere else most of the time. Even though Paul had looked at him curiously as if he were a mad man and he repeated and embarrassed himself.
Which was better? Presence and incurable torture, or blackout and perpetual confusion? They’d taken her away and she left an abyss in their home. This space was different but the same and it would be forever hers. As the light crept across the floor and illuminated the small kitchen, he cried and wished she was here with him.
Nothing was the same.
Chapter 17
Kelly’s team assembled at 11 a.m. on Wednesday. Kelly walked to her seat at the head of the table and put her coffee mug down on a coaster with a slogan on it. It said,I’m a police mum, like a regular mum with back-up. Millie had bought it for her for Christmas. It reminded her why she caught bad people, to protect the good ones at home. People shuffled papers and the mood was sombre. They waited for her to take the lead. They had little to go on with the Water Nymph case but Kelly was more hopeful they’d get to the bottom of what had happened at Heron Hall. She’d caught perhaps two hours’ sleep eventually in the dawn light and by the time she woke up she wanted more.
They were a small unit in the North Lakes and they were tight as a result. Familiarity sat comfortably alongside their inquiries and the atmosphere was hushed but serious. This wasn’t the Met, where murder was standard.
Kelly had given her pound of flesh to the capital city. She’d dreamt of joining a murder squad in the Met. Now she was thankful that her job wasn’t overwhelmed by evil. All crime was challenging to police, but back in those days in the capital city, she’d lived, breathed and consumed murder. Here, they were more used to burglaries, domestics and road traffic accidents. That wasn’t to say they weren’t prepared. They’d had their share of serious inquiries, but they weren’t faced with it every day. A murder changed the flow of the office. Suicides just depressed them.
Today they potentially had both.
‘I’ll start with the death of Jamie Robbins because there’s more to go on,’ she said.
‘Because it’s more fun that way?’ Kate lightened the load and everybody relaxed.
‘I heard the roads around Rydal were choked this morning,’ Dan said.
‘Rubbernecking in the extreme,’ Emma said.
‘I don’t think they’re there just for the coffin trail,’ Kelly added.
‘And they’re decamping to that posh castle in the middle of nowhere?’ Fin asked.
He referred to Tilda Dent’s intention to take her executives to the huge estate of Dow Bank House near Grasmere to recover from the shock.
‘Why don’t they just fly back to the USA?’ Kate asked. ‘Why hang around?’
‘Respect? I don’t know. They don’t strike me as sensitive types,’ Kelly said.
‘Was he drunk, boss?’ Fin asked.
‘Apparently not but we’ll have to wait for the tox results.’
‘What kind of party was it?’ Dan asked.
‘It wasn’t a party,’ Kate replied. ‘It was a conference for health and wellness.’
Dan snorted into his coffee and Emma covered her mouth. Kelly recalled how she felt when she got a whiff of the stuff when she’d been pregnant and the nostalgic feeling of nausea caught her by surprise. Cigarette smoke had the same effect. Now she quite liked it when Kate came in after a sneaky smoke.
‘The coroner still hasn’t made a decision on cause of death, because we didn’t find anything concrete yesterday, so we don’t know the circumstances surrounding Jamie’s death. So I’m treating it as suspicious because the coroner is. He’ll be autopsied this afternoon. The evidence suggests a scuffle, either in his room or in the corridor, or both, but we’re sitting on this information for now. None of the guests mentioned hearing it so far. I’m going back there today if nothing else comes up.’
