Page 58 of Murder Most Haunted

‘Would you like one of your pills?’ asked Midge, carefully watching Bridie’s face for a reaction.

She kept her eyes closed. ‘No. Thank you. I’ve had one for today. They’re quite strong.’

‘Are they?’ asked Midge, settling herself in the armchair in their bedroom, where they had been talking. ‘How many did Dr Newman suggest taking?’

There was a pause, while Bridie adjusted her sheet. ‘Oh, one, I think.’

‘Are you sure?’ said Midge. ‘I couldn’t see the usual prescription writing on the bottle.’

‘It’s a new chemist.’

Midge fiddled with her cane, rolling it between her hands. ‘How was chemo this weekend?’

‘Oh, you know, a barrel of laughs as usual. Non-stop chuckles. You missed out, but I’m sure a weekend with your friends was even more fun.’

Her words stung. ‘You were the one who wanted me to come on this weekend.’

She waited until there was the tiniest of sighs from Bridie. ‘What do you want to say, Midge?’

‘Where did you get the pills from?’

‘I told you . . .’ Bridie opened her eyes.

‘Stop lying.’

Bridie sank back again, before turning her head to the side on the pillow. She reached out for Midge’s hand and took it between hers, the veins all bruised from needles and the skin paper-thin. ‘The chemotherapy isn’t working, Midge.’

Midge’s heart stopped for the briefest of seconds.

‘You just haven’t given it long enough,’ she said, softly.

‘You’re not listening.’ Bridie moved her head against the pillow. ‘I could give it a year and it still wouldn’t work. The cancer is too aggressive and the treatment isn’t having an effect.’

‘And this new pill is?’ Midge frowned at her.

Bridie shrugged before squeezing her hand. ‘It helps. After all, what harm can it do now?’

Midge stared at her. ‘You could say the same for the chemo,’ she said, quietly.

Bridie closed her eyes. ‘The chemo makes me feel so sick. It’s too much. You’d know if you ever came with me.’

Midge opened her mouth. This was unfair. Bridie had insisted right from the start that she didn’t want her at the sessions.

‘Do you ever think about the baby?’

The question from Bridie came out of the blue, stilling Midge’s hand. Her breath caught slightly. Why mention it now, for the first time in twenty-five years?

‘Sometimes,’ she replied, ‘not much.’

Liar.

‘You seem different.’ Bridie spoke so quietly that at first Midge wasn’t sure if she had imagined it.

‘Don’t be silly,’ she replied.

‘More animated . . . no, more purposeful.’

‘Murder will do that,’ said Midge.

Bridie shook her head. ‘No. It’s the people. You’re changing.’

Midge looked out at the sky but said nothing.

‘Whose photograph is that in your hankie drawer?’ asked Bridie.

Midge’s stomach turned over. Taking care to keep her face neutral, she replied, ‘I found it in Rendell’s room. Someone will have to tell his wife.’ She paused. ‘It didn’t seem right just leaving it there.’

Bridie’s eyes had closed again and her breathing had switched to a deeper rhythm.

After watching her for a few minutes, Midge turned to the window seat to pick up her cane when something outside caught her eye. Outside, on the far lawn was Dr Mortimer’s body.

And leaning over it was a fox.

The second she got out of the front entrance, she started shouting. Making as much noise as humanly possible while striding as fast as she could towards the side gate and lawn. ‘Get out of it!’ she screamed, waving her stick in the air and yelling. ‘Go on, get!’

Harold had appeared behind her, and quickly overtook her, banging his hands together as he charged towards the fox where it stood with its muzzle buried in the doctor’s coat.

‘Move it!’ he shouted, bending down to scoop up snow and throwing it as he ran.

The fox gave a last reluctant tug at the doctor’s coat before jumping back and running off in the direction of the laurel bushes.

Slipping in the newly formed slush, Midge reached Harold just as he bent down to the body.

‘Has it done anything?’ said Midge. ‘It could disturb . . .’

‘Disturb the evidence, yeah, I know,’ said Harold. ‘It was going for the coat, I think.’

The fox had torn at the sleeve on Dr Mortimer’s right arm, pulling the coat loose on the chest and exposing the wound. Framed against the expansive moorland behind him, the doctor’s body appeared offered up by the earth itself.

‘Do you think . . . do you think he’ll be with his son now?’ asked Harold.

Midge again said nothing, instead focusing her gaze on the doctor’s chest.

‘What are you looking for?’ asked Harold.

‘I’m not sure,’ said Midge, truthfully. ‘Something that shouldn’t be there but is, or isn’t but should.’

She frowned, noticing a white discoloration on the doctor’s jumper that she had originally mistaken for snow. She touched it lightly with her fingers, the white powder sticking to them.

‘What’s that?’ said Harold.

‘Flour, I think.’

Where the fox had pulled the coat, a piece of card could be seen, sticking out from one of the doctor’s pockets. Carefully, Midge reached over and edged it out slightly.

It was a note with only a few words on it:

I HAVE PHOTOS

She pushed the card back in, quickly, before Harold could see. ‘You’re ex-army, Harold – what kind of gunshot wound is that?’ she said, pointing to the doctor’s chest.

‘Oh God.’ Harold glanced quickly down, puffing his cheeks out at the same time, before turning his back. ‘Uh. Not a shotgun, anyway. I’m guessing it’s a rifle. Possibly military.’

‘Or like the ones hanging in the hall?’ said Midge. Harold nodded, looking down at his feet now.

‘I was a truck driver in the army, by the way. Logistics Corps,’ he said. ‘Not a sniper or anything, before you ask.’

She swivelled round to look up at him. ‘Why are you telling me that?’

He sniffed. ‘I know we’re all under suspicion.’

Midge stood up straight, ignoring the creaking in her knee.

‘Even you,’ he said.

She nodded, thrusting her free hand into her pocket for warmth.

‘Did you know Rendell before, in the police?’ he asked.

Midge pushed a deep hole into the snow with her cane and wiggled it around, compacting the particles into ice. ‘Yes.’

‘Oh!’ He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

‘He was my first sergeant, when I left training college.’

Before Harold could ask her anything more, a loud shout rang out from the direction of the hall.

‘What the hell?’ said Harold, his jaw dropping.

Noah was standing on the steps of the house, shouting a warning to them. Rona, carrying something in her arms, came charging towards them, her pink hair flying out behind her.

It all happened so fast that Midge struggled to make sense of what she was seeing.

Rona was holding a rifle. To Midge’s horror, the pop star pulled the gun up to her shoulder and aimed it directly at them.