‘I can’t say who’s involved but there’s been a shooting that may be connected to the attack on Gemma.’ His expression is grave. ‘It’s procedure to up the security. They may be sending an armed guard. Just until they assess where we are.’
‘They think someone might come here? With a gun?’
‘No one’s saying that. But it’s a live situation. I’m just telling you what I know. You mustn’t share this. Or any news on the possibility of Gemma waking up. You understand?’
I nod, my mouth gaping as my head moves involuntarily. ‘Can we speak to DI Sanders?’
‘She’s overseeing things at the moment. But I’m sure she’ll want to update you personally when we know more.’
‘That’s why they’re moving the other patients. They think someone might come here. With a gun?’
‘No, I didn’t say that. But we want to lock this unit down as a precaution. Once the other patients are out, the unit will, in effect, be out of bounds. Staff passes only. DI Sanders’ orders.’
‘OK. Thank you.’ Ed’s tone is steadier than mine as he turns but I notice that both his hands are in tight fists.
I look at him and have never been so afraid. It occurs to me that someone mad enough to shoot Gemma in broad daylight might take someone hostage, like a human shield, to get in here. A nurse? A porter?
Suddenly no amount of security feels enough. Suddenly I have this horrible picture in my brain of a member of the hospital staff, gun to their head, being marched right down the centre of this ward.
CHAPTER 54
THE PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR
Everything’s moving so fast that Matthew feels the familiar rush of blood and energy as he drives. He’s praying this isn’t another wrong steer. His gut’s telling him that it’s just too strong a coincidence and he has to drill down to the bottom of this as fast as he can, for Mel’s sake.
She’s still at the crime scene and they’re up against the clock. He checks the time on his dashboard. Nearly 10 a.m. Please be in. Please be in.
The village near Exeter’s an odd choice for a PI’s office – a bit quiet – but Wendy March is an odd kind of PI. He’s never much liked her – a maverick at best – and the thought of her being wound up in all this and failing to come forward is both infuriating and soul-destroying. No wonder PIs get bad press.
Wendy’s card has just been found at Sam Blake’s home, among the wife Lily’s clothes. It was tucked in the pocket of a raincoat that looked as if it had been worn recently. Further inspection suggests the wife recently packed some of her clothes. This fits with neighbours’ suggestions that she’s not been around for a little while.
It was Wendy who Matthew saw at the university campus. As soon as he shared this with Mel, she was furious. Dispatched him to speak to Wendy face to face. Bring her in if you need to. I want everything she knows.
There’s parking near the office thankfully and Matthew finds coins in the glove compartment to avoid a fine. The office is above a pasty shop of all things, with a separate entrance. As he rings the bell, Matthew wonders how it will compare with his own office.
Come on. Come on. Answer.
It feels strange to be turning up at a rival’s place. Correction; not a rival. Wendy is a different kind of PI altogether. Her website is all about the money and all about the matrimonials – the very work Matthew hates. She even offers a lie-detector test. Classy.
At last the buzzer on the door sounds and he climbs stairs a good deal less steep than his own to find no second door at the top – just a small, open-plan office.
Wendy March is on the phone but stands the minute she spots him, making apologies to her caller and ringing off.
‘Matthew Hill? What are you doing here?’
‘I’m here on behalf of DI Sanders.’ Matthew pauses, not wanting to give away too much yet about the new crime scene. ‘We’re investigating the attack on Gemma Hartley.’
‘Mrs Hartley gave you my name?’ Wendy looks shocked.
Matthew’s equally shocked. ‘No, she didn’t.’ His mind does a somersault as he tries to regroup. Rachel Hartley wasn’t pressed for the name of the PI she used to investigate her husband Ed. As nothing was found, it wasn’t important.
‘So you were the PI that Rachel Hartley hired?’
‘Isn’t that why you’re here?’
‘No, it’s not. What do you know of Lily Blake? Are you working for her too?’
‘I might be. What’s it to you?’ Wendy now looks less assured, her neck starting to redden, the blush moving up towards her chin like colour soaking on litmus paper. ‘My work with my clients is confidential. We aren’t all in the pockets of the police.’ She widens her eyes. Cocky expression, despite the flush.