Page 215 of Troubled Blood

“So Margot wouldn’t have been involved with the coroner, or had any other professional connection with her death?”

“No, she’ll ’ave been same as me: never knew the woman existed till she was already dead and Steve come looking for ’elp. I bet I know why you’re asking, though,” said Janice. “Talbot was dead set on Steve being the Essex Butcher, wasn’t ’e? On and on about Steve, in all those interviews I ’ad with ’im. But honestly, Steve Douthwaite was a gentle soul. I grew up wiv a couple of proper violent men. Me father was one. I know the type, and Steve definitely weren’t it.”

Remembering how endearing some women had found the apparent vulnerability of Dennis Creed, Strike merely nodded.

“Talbot asked wevver I’d ever visited that Joanna, as a nurse. I told ’im she wasn’t a St. John’s patient, but that didn’t put ’im off. Did I think there was anything fishy about ’er death, even so? I kept saying, ‘I never met the woman. ’Ow do I know?’ I was getting worn down wiv it all by then, honestly, being treated like I was Gypsy bloody Rose Lee. I told Talbot, go see what the coroner said!”

“And you don’t know whether there was a death Margot was worried about?” Strike asked. “A death that was maybe categorized as natural, or accidental, but where she thought there might have been foul play?”

“What makes you ask that?” said Janice.

“Just trying to clear up something Talbot left in his notes. He seemed to think Margot might’ve had suspicions about the way somebody died. You were mentioned in connection with the death.”

Janice’s round blue eyes widened behind her glasses.

“Mentioned as having witnessed something, or perhaps been present,” Strike elaborated. “There was no hint of accusation.”

“I should bloody well ’ope not!” said Janice. “No, I never witnessed nothing. I’d’ve said if I ’ad, wouldn’t I?”

There was a short pause, which Strike judged it prudent not to break, and sure enough, Janice piped up again.

“Look, I can’t speak for Margot forty years on. She’s gone, i’n’t she? It isn’t fair on either of us. I don’t wanna be casting suspicion round, all these years later.”

“I’m just trying to eliminate possible lines of inquiry,” said Strike.

There was a longer pause. Janice’s eyes drifted over the tea tray and on to the picture of her late partner, with his stained teeth and his kind, sleepy eyes. Finally, she sighed and said,

“All right, but I want you to write down that this was Margot’s idea, not mine, all right? I’m not accusing no one.”

“Fair enough,” said Strike, pen poised over his notebook.

“All right then, well—it was very sensitive, because of us working wiv ’er—Dorothy, I mean.

“Dorothy and Carl lived wiv Dorothy’s mother. ’Er name was Maud, though I wouldn’t remember that if Carl ’adn’t been ’ere the ovver day. We were talking and I mentioned ’is gran, and ’e called ’er ‘bloody Maud,’ not ‘Grandma’ or nothing.

“Anyway, Maud ’ad an infection on ’er leg, a sore what was taking its time ’ealing. It needed dressing and looking after, so I was visiting the ’ouse a lot. Ev’ry time I was in there, she told me she owned the ’ouse, not Dorothy. She was letting ’er daughter and grandson live wiv ’er. She liked saying it, you know. Feeling the power.

“I wouldn’t say she’d be much fun to live with. Sour old lady. Nothing ever right for ’er. She moaned a lot about ’er grandson being spoiled—but like I said, ’e was an ’oly terror when ’e was younger, so I can’t blame ’er there.

“Anyway,” said Janice, “before the sore on ’er leg was ’ealed, she died, after falling downstairs. Now, ’er walking wasn’t great, because she’d been laid up for a bit with this sore leg, and she needed a stick. People do fall downstairs, and if you’re elderly, obviously that can ’ave serious consequences, but…

“Well, a week afterward, Margot asked me into ’er consulting room for a word, and… well, yeah, I got the impression Margot was maybe a bit uneasy about it. She never said anyfing outright, just asked me what I fort. I knew what she was saying… but what could we do? We weren’t there when she fell and the family said they was downstairs and just ’eard ’er take the tumble, and there she was at the bottom of the stairs, knocked out cold, and she died two nights later in ’ospital.

“Dorothy never showed no emotion about it, but Dorothy never did show much emotion about anything. What could we do?” Janice repeated, her palms turned upward. “Obviously I could see the way Margot’s mind was working, because she knew Maud owned the ’ouse, and now Dorothy and Carl were sitting pretty, and… well, it’s the kind of thing doctors consider, of course they do. It’ll come back on them, if they’ve missed anything. But in the end, Margot never done nothing about it and as far as I know there was never any bother.

“There,” Janice concluded, with a slight air of relief at having got this off her chest. “Now you know.”

“Thank you,” said Strike, making a note. “That’s very helpful. Tell me: did you ever mention this to Talbot?”

“No,” said Janice, “but someone else mighta done. Ev’ryone knew Maud ’ad died, and ’ow she died, because Dorothy took a day off for the funeral. I’ll be honest, by the end of all my interviews wiv Talbot, I just wanted to get out of there. Mostly ’e wanted me to talk about me dreams. It was creepy, honestly. Weird, the ’ole thing.”

“I’m sure it was,” said Strike. “Well, there’s just one more thing I wanted to ask, and then I’m done. My partner managed to track down Paul Satchwell.”

“Oh,” said Janice, with no sign of embarrassment or discomfort. “Right. That was Margot’s old boyfriend, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Well, we were surprised to find out you know each other.”

Janice looked at him blankly.