Common Murder

Jane smiled at her efforts to shake off the stupor and said, “I thought I’d better make sure you were up in time to get to the hospital. I’ve already rung them-Deborah is out of danger and responding well, they said. Translation-she’s been sedated to sleep, but her vital signs are looking good. They say it’s okay for you to go in, but they don’t think Cara should visit yet.”

“How is Cara?” asked Lindsay, who felt as if her limbs were wooden and her head filled with cotton wool.

“A bit edgy, but she’s with Josy and the other kids, so she’ll be more or less all right,” Jane replied. “She wants her mummy, but at least she’s old enough to understand when you say that Deborah’s in the hospital, but she’s going to be all right.”

“Do you think we can keep her here and look after her okay, or are we going to have to get something else sorted out?” Lindsay asked anxiously.

Jane smiled. “Don’t worry about Cara. She’s used to the routine here now. It’s better that she’s somewhere she can see Deborah as much as possible.”

“I’m just worried in case social services find out about her and take her into care,” Lindsay said.

“If anyone comes looking for her from the council, we’ll deny all knowledge of her and say she’s with her father. By the time they sort that little one out, Deborah will be convalescent,” Jane reassured her. “Now, drink this coffee and get yourself over to the hospital.”

“Five minutes,” warned the nurse as she showed Lindsay into a small side room.

Deborah lay still, her head swathed in bandages. There was a tube in her nose and another in her arm. Her face was chalky white and dark bruises surrounded her closed eyelids. Lindsay was choked with a mixture of pity, love, and anger. As she moved towards the bed, she sensed another presence in the room and half turned. Behind the door, a uniformed constable sat, notebook poised. He smiled tentatively at her and said, “Morning, miss.”

Lindsay nodded at him and sat down by the bed. Reaching out cautiously, she took hold of Deborah’s hand. Her eyelids flickered momentarily, then opened. The pupils were so dilated that her eyes no longer appeared blue. Frowning slightly, as she tried to focus, she registered Lindsay’s presence and her face cleared.

“Lin,” she said in a voice that lacked all resonance. “It’s really you?”

“Yes, love, it’s me.”

“Cara?”

“She’s okay. Josy’s in charge. Everything’s under control.”

“Good. I’m so tired, Lin. I can’t think. What happened?”

“Somebody hit you. Did you see anyone, Debs?”

“I’m so glad it’s really you, Lin. I think I’m seeing ghosts. I think Rupert Crabtree’s haunting me.”

“I’m no ghost, Debs. And he can’t hurt you. He’s out of your life for good.”

“I know, but listen, Lin. It’s crazy, I know, but I have this weird impression that it was Rupert Crabtree who attacked me. I must be going mad.”

“You’re not mad, you’re just concussed and sedated up to the eyeballs. It’ll all be clear soon, I promise.”

“Yes, but I’m sure it was him that I saw. But it couldn’t be, could it? Just like it couldn’t have been him I saw walking his dog on Sunday night. Because he was already dead by then, wasn’t he?”

“What?” Lindsay suddenly stiffened. “You saw him after he was dead?”

“I told you before that I saw him. But he was walking towards his house. And he’d already been killed up by the fence. It’s his ghost, Lin, it’s haunting me.” Her voice was becoming agitated.

Lindsay stroked her arm. “It’s okay, Debs. There’s no ghost, I promise you. You’ve got to go to sleep now, and when you wake up, I swear you’ll be much clearer. Now close your eyes, go back to sleep. I’ll be back tonight, I promise. No ghosts, just good old Lindsay.”

Her soothing voice lulled the panic from Deborah’s face, and soon she was sleeping again. Lindsay rose to go, and the policeman followed her. Outside he said, “Could you make head or tail of that, miss? All that stuff about being attacked by a ghost?”

Lindsay shook her head. “She’s delirious, at a guess. It made no sense to me, officer,” she said.

But she knew, as she walked away from the ward that she lied. The echo of her words seemed to pursue her. Deborah’s words had triggered off a chain of thought in Lindsay, making a strange kind of sense. At last, vague suspicions were crystallising into certainties. Lindsay felt a growing conviction that Oxford was where the answers lay.

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