Dead Men Don't Pay (Walsh & Cribbs 60s Crime Series Book 1) by Ben Bruce

Author:Ben Bruce [Bruce, Ben]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-07-25T00:00:00+00:00

21.

The morning brought heavy heads to both Joseph and Ray, although if Ray hadn’t mentioned it when he saw Joseph rubbing his temples at his desk, it would have been hard for Joseph to tell. Thankfully, the WPCs from the floor below had put the urn on ahead of the CID shift starting, so they had plenty of tea and sugar to help take the edge away.

“Plan of action,” Ray said as they washed down the second round of drinks. “Head over to the hospital, see what our man Harry has to say for himself.”

“Will he be up for visitors yet?” Joseph asked. He wasn’t sure that he was up for visiting yet, never mind Harry.

“The matron called this morning. Says he’s on the up. Good enough for me,” Ray replied, much to Joseph’s disappointment. He could have happily hidden behind his desk for the rest of the day.

A grey blanket of low cloud had invaded London, hovering just above the rooftops, keeping it from being a mist. It made everything seem smaller, as if contained within some giant’s terrarium. It kept Joseph from wanting to look up. Moisture hung in the air, coating their coats and spraying in their faces as they walked to the hospital from the car. The cold fresh water helped invigorate Joseph. Inside the building the air was stuffy and thick from the heating and his sweats quickly returned.

The hospital was far quieter than when they had arrived the day before. It was still early. Less time for people to have had mishaps at work, or to have got themselves into whatever sort of scrape that would send them scurrying to casualty.

The matron from the night before greeted them as they arrived on the ward, her face stern. When she spoke, it was to the point and her tone made clear that there was no room for rebuttal. She told them that Harry had slept most of the night and been “absolutely no bother at all.” Joseph wondered how many patients were bother. Looking at the matron, Joseph couldn’t help but wonder what became of those who were “bother”.

They had put Harry into a private room, away from the other patients. As the matron explained this, she left them in little doubt it had not been her preferred option. She complained about her staff being pulled “hither and tither”, “and all for what?” she had asked. “To look after some silly young so-and-so who had got himself into a scrape he couldn’t handle?” It made Joseph glad that they hadn’t told her much more. She seemed the type who may have gone in and interrogated Harry herself. She certainly would have left him with a flea in the ear.

Harry looked a mess when they got to him. Both of his eyes were blackened and swollen, although not fully closed. A large cut ran up from his lip to the side of his nose, stitched together, the stitches dark red with old blood. Joseph had to assume that they would be at least cleaned if not changed before too long.

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