Local Artist: Perfecting the Art of Murder by Paul Trembling

Author:Paul Trembling
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781782642602
Publisher: Lion Hudson

DAY 6: SINISTROUS

Sometime in the small hours, an A & E doctor looked me over. I had some minor burns on my face and hands, sore eyes and a raw throat from the smoke, but apart from that I was fine. Painkillers, treatment for skin and throat, and an overnight stay for observation.

Graham, I learned, was in a worse state, with more severe burns on his head. They had him in an isolation ward – severe burns carry a high risk of infection – and under sedation. After I begged long enough, they let me see him through a window. That might have been a mistake. His head was bandaged, there was a drip in his arm, and he was so terribly still.

They persuaded me, eventually, that he was fine under the circumstances, and that there was no more I could do. Finally I gave in and let them put me to bed in a nearby ward.

I didn’t really expect to sleep. My face hurt too much, my head was too busy. But the painkillers took the edge off, and my whirling thoughts faded into darkness.

I woke up to warm sunlight and bustling nurses. My face and hands and throat all hurt, but my head was a lot clearer, and my first thought was of Graham.

“I’ll ring his ward,” promised the first nurse I managed to grab hold of – literally – clutching at her arm as she paused by my bed. Amazingly, she responded with a smile before detaching herself and carrying on.

Even more amazingly, she came back to me in thirty minutes or so. “He had a good night, and he’s awake and comfortable. He’ll be seen by a burns specialist later today – that’s Mr Cromarty, he’s very good – and they’ll have someone from Cardiology check him out as well, in view of his history.”

“I need to see him. Can I, please?”

“I’m sure that will happen later, but it would be better if you stayed here for now, until the doctor’s seen you. I think that they’ll probably discharge you anyway, but best to be sure, right?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

She smiled again and moved on to the next demand, and I did my best to relax.

It was a frustrating time. I had too much to think about, and not enough information. It was hard not to keep coming back to that terrifying wall of flame that had filled the hallway.

I didn’t even have my mobile phone with me, to make contact with someone and find out what was going on. Had the house survived? Where was Brodie?

And, of course, who had done it?

I had my suspicions on that. But no facts. So I lay in increasing frustration, forcing myself not to keep bothering the nurses and other staff with endless questions that they couldn’t possibly be expected to answer.

I did consider discharging myself and going to look for some answers in person. But there were practical difficulties in that – such as the fact that the only

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