“That would be about half past eleven, then,” said Banks.
“Did he see where they went?” Hatchley asked.
“Over to the Fountain.”
The Fountain was the pub on the far side of the square, on the corner of Taylor’s Yard, and it was known to stay open until about midnight, or not long after. “The others must have quietened Hayley down after that fracas in the Trumpeters so they could get more drinks,” Hatchley said. “I wonder if they went to the Bar None when the Fountain closed? They’ve been stricter about who they serve in there since the last time they were in trouble, but it’s the only place in town you can get a drink after midnight, unless you fancy a curry and lager at the Taj.”
DC Wilson’s mobile buzzed and he put it to his ear. When he had asked a couple of questions and listened for a while, the frown deepened on his brow.
“What is it?” Banks asked when Wilson turned the phone off.
“It was that barmaid at the Duck and Drake,” he said. “She remembered where she’d seen the bloke sitting by himself. Got a tear in her leather jacket a couple of months ago and someone recommended that shop on the corner of Taylor’s Yard for invisible mending. Said she didn’t know the bloke’s name, but it was him, the bloke from the leather shop.”
Mel Danvers, Karen Drew’s assigned carer, was a slender young thing of twenty-something with doe eyes and a layered cap of chocolate-brown hair. Grace Chaplin seemed in control, but Mel seemed nervous, fiddling with a ring on her finger, perhaps because she was in front of her supervisor. Annie didn’t know if the nervousness meant anything, but she hoped she would soon find out. Someone had managed to get her hands on an assortment of sandwiches, she noticed, along with some digestive biscuits and a pot of tea. Things were looking up in the conference room.
Mel turned from Annie to Grace. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “Karen? Murdered?”
She had checked Karen’s room, and her colleagues had searched the rest of Mapston Hall, just in case Karen had somehow returned without anyone knowing, but she was nowhere to be found. And Karen fit the description that Annie gave Grace and Mel. Tommy Naylor was busy searching her room.
“Tell me what happened?” Annie said. “Were you there when she left?”
“Yes. I even advised her against it. The weather… but her friend was quite adamant. She said a bit of wind and rain never bothered her, and it would be a long time before she could come again. I couldn’t stop her from going. I mean, she wasn’t a prisoner or anything.”
“It’s all right,” said Annie. “Nobody’s blaming you. What was her friend’s name?”
“Mary.”
“No surname?”
“She didn’t give me one. It should be in the log,” Mel said, with a glance at Grace. “They have to sign the log.”
Annie showed her the signature. Mel narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t read it,” she said.
“Nobody can,” said Annie. “I think that was the intention.”
“But you can’t mean… Oh, dear God!” She put her hand to her mouth.
Grace touched her shoulder gently. “There, there, Mel,” she said. “Be strong. Answer the inspector’s questions.”
“Yes,” said Mel, stiffening and straightening her uniform.
“Is the time right? Nine-thirty?” Annie asked.
“Yes,” Mel answered.
Well, that was something, Annie thought. “Do you require any sort of identification from people signing patients out?” she asked.
“No,” said Grace. “Why would we? Who would want to…” She let her words trail off when she realized where she was heading.
“I understand,” said Annie. “So basically anyone can walk in and take any one of your patients out?”
“Well, yes,” said Grace. “But usually they’re friends or relatives, unless they’re social workers or volunteers, of course, and then they take whoever requires them.” She paused. “Not all our patients have relatives who recognize their existence.”
“It must be difficult,” Annie said, not entirely sure what she meant. She turned to Mel again. “Had you ever seen this Mary before?” she asked.
“No.”
“Are you certain it was a woman?”
“I think so,” Mel said. “It was mostly her voice, you know. I couldn’t see much of her face because she was wearing a hat and glasses, and she had a long raincoat on with the collar turned up so, you know, it sort of hid her shape, her figure and her neck. I’m pretty sure, though.”
“What was her voice like?”
“Just ordinary.”
“Any particular accent?”
“No. But not Yorkshire, like, or Geordie. Just sort of neutral. She didn’t say very much, just said she was a friend and had come to take Karen for a walk.”
“What did you notice about her?”
“She was quite slight. You know, wiry. Not very tall.”
“Did you catch a glimpse of her hair color at all?”
“Not really. I think it must have been under the hat.”
“What kind of hat?”
“I don’t know. A hat. With a brim.”
“What color?”
“Black.”
“Any idea what age she was?”
“Hard to say. I didn’t get a real look at her face. Old, though. From the way she moved and her general appearance, I’d say maybe late thirties or forty.”
Annie let that go by. “Anything distinguishing about her?”
“Just ordinary, really.”
“Okay. Did you see her car? She couldn’t have walked here.”
“No,” said Mel. “I mean, I was inside all the time. Someone might have seen it in one of the parking spots.”
“Do you have CCTV in the car park?”
“No. We don’t have it at all here. I mean, it’s not as if the patients are under guard or they’re going to do… you know, run away or anything.”
“How did Karen react to the idea of a walk with Mary?”
Mel fiddled with her ring and reddened. “She didn’t. I mean, sh-she couldn’t, could she? Karen was a quadriplegic. She couldn’t communicate.”
“Did she have any particular friends here?” Annie asked. “Anyone she spent a lot of time with?”
“It’s difficult when a person can’t communicate,” Mel said. “You tend to be confined to a pretty solitary existence. Of course, the staff here make sure she has all she needs. They talk to her, tell her what’s going on. They’re all truly wonderful people. And she has her television, of course. But… well, it all goes in, but nothing comes out.” Mel shrugged.
“So you had no way of knowing whether she recognized Mary or not? Or, indeed, wanted to go with her?”
“No. But why would this Mary… I mean…” Mel started crying. Grace passed her a handkerchief from her pocket and touched her shoulder again. “Why would anybody want to take Karen out if they didn’t know her?” Mel went on. “What would be the point?”
“Well, I think we know the answer to that,” Annie said. “Someone wanted to get her alone in an isolated spot and kill her. The puzzle that remains is why. Was Karen wealthy?”
“I believe she had some money from the sale of her house,” Grace said, “but that would all have been put toward her care. I wouldn’t say she was wealthy, no.”
“How did she end up here, by the way?” Annie asked.
“Drunk driver,” said Grace. “Broke her back. Awkward area. Spinal cord damage. It happens far more often than you would imagine. Tragic case.”
“There’d be insurance, then?”
“Whatever there was, it would have also gone toward her care.”
“How long had she been here?”
“About three months.”