Death at Dead Man's Stake by Nick Oldham

Author:Nick Oldham [Oldham, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House
Published: 2024-05-10T00:00:00+00:00

THIRTY-SIX

‘Oh, you really are a saint,’ Mrs Belcher said with a cheeky grin as though she’d said something original when she opened the delivery door at the back of Sunny Common Old People’s Home which was situated close to Wimbledon Common in South London to find Joseph Saint there with his van drawn up and the rear doors open. Mrs Belcher could see past Saint’s shoulder into the van, inside of which were four new, luxuriant hanging baskets which she knew he’d made himself and brought down to the home to replace the rather bedraggled ones hanging out back. These new ones would brighten up the place immeasurably and she knew Mr Saint would not expect a penny in payment.

Because he liked old people.

Such a good man.

‘No,’ Joseph Saint said. ‘My name may be Saint, but I’m not really that good a person. Sometimes I’m a little sinner.’

‘Oh, you are good, you really are,’ Mrs Belcher insisted. ‘And’ – she raised her eyebrows and indicated the flowers – ‘am I correct in assuming they are all for us?’

‘You assume right, my darling.’

Ten minutes later Saint had replaced the old hanging baskets and once he’d washed his hands he walked into the communal activity area where over a dozen elderly residents had gathered, reading, chatting or watching TV.

‘Hello, everyone,’ he announced.

They turned at their own pace and waved or said hello back.

Joseph Saint was a well-known visitor and a couple of times a week, even without flowers, he would come in and spend some time with them, playing games and organizing activities.

That afternoon he thought he might try a bit of karaoke, just to get them going, get their thin blood circulating through their narrow arteries. They liked a good old sing-song.

Saint’s birth name was Vernon Venator, which he had loathed. As soon as he’d reached an age when he could, he’d changed it by deed poll to Joseph Saint, which he knew, suited him very nicely.

Because Joseph was the patron saint of the dying and happy death.

But though quite a few people had died at his hand, none had experienced a happy death.

Not even his mother.

The old people’s version of the Neil Diamond classic ‘Sweet Caroline’, now used as a sing-along at England soccer matches, was not bad, Saint thought, as he led the song with enthusiasm following a very piss-poor rendition of ‘Mama Mia’ which hit the skids quite quickly.

The whole room had reached one of the ‘dah-dah-dahs’ when Saint clocked Tommy Moss leaning on the door frame with a look on his face which was a combination of disbelief and rank amusement.

At least this was the last song for the moment.

It had been a pretty good, impromptu party, but now it was time for the old dears to get their breaths back and go to the loo.

By the time Saint had wound up the session he found Tommy outside leaning on his car, smoking. Saint strolled up to him.

Before anything else, Tommy demanded, ‘Why do you do this?’

‘I enjoy it.

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