Bryant & May - Wild Chamber: (Bryant & May 14) by Christopher Fowler

Author:Christopher Fowler [Fowler, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781473526198
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2017-03-22T16:00:00+00:00

24

‘AN AWFUL LOT OF TRAGEDY IN ONE FAMILY’

‘Forester’s medication regimen will prevent anything he says today from being used as evidence against him, you know that,’ said May as they entered the hospital ward. ‘We should really wait another day.’

Bryant squeezed antiseptic gel on to his hands. ‘We haven’t time to wait. We need to know who was in the park with him.’

‘Why should we believe anything he tells us?’ May searched the bed roster. ‘He probably blames his wife for his son’s death. After all, she abdicated responsibility for the boy, handing him over to Sharyn Buckland. We know the nanny saw more of the child than she did.’

‘So Helen Forester shouldn’t have had a career, but it was all right for her husband to succeed?’

‘All I’m saying is that there are good reasons why he shouldn’t want to tell us the truth.’

The head nurse met them in the corridor. ‘The van driver on the Archway Road was very lucky,’ she told them. May always found it amazing that nurses could seek out the positive elements in any tragedy. ‘He didn’t lose control of his vehicle even after Mr Forester landed on his roof.’

‘How’s Forester doing?’ Bryant asked.

‘He won’t be taking tango lessons any time soon. But he should be home in a couple of days. He was lucky. I saw a chap go under a refrigerated truck once. You couldn’t have filled a shopping bag with what came out of the other side.’

‘You’re new, aren’t you?’ May was trying to read her name tag without his glasses and failing.

‘Yes, Mr May, my name is Ellen Shaw, I’m a good Protestant girl from Dublin and I know all about you, so I’m keeping far out of your reach. Didn’t you date one of the very senior nurses here once?’ She grinned and pushed open the door.

‘Can we get some English Breakfast tea?’ Bryant asked.

‘Budget cuts,’ Shaw countered with a dazzling smile. ‘And I’m not English. Get your own tea.’

‘I like that one’s spirit,’ said May admiringly.

Jeremy Forester had been placed in a public ward overlooking the streets of Bloomsbury, where there was always someone to keep an eye on him. He was still hooked up to an IV drip. His face was so swollen and blackened that the frame of his skull was lost beneath inflamed flesh. He had no cards or flowers from well-wishers.

‘It’s not been a great year for you, has it?’ asked Bryant, sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘No grapes going, I suppose? Your assistant says you told her there were people coming after you. She saw someone from her window. Who are they?’

‘Owed – money,’ Forester rasped, painfully turning his head. May gave him a sip of water from a plastic beaker.

‘We’ve been going through your accounts. You lied to your creditors. You can’t be surprised about them targeting you.’

‘Thought – they would take longer – find me.’

‘Well, experientia docet, as they say – you learn by the experience.’ Bryant had a rummage through Forester’s locker but failed to turn up anything of interest.

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