Gallery Whispers

93

The woman took a while to open the door: it was understandable, Mcllhenney realised, as soon as he saw her twisted, claw-like hands.

'Miss Ball,' he said. 'Good evening to you. I'm Sergeant Mcllhenney: I phoned you earlier.'

'Yes, of course,' she replied. 'Come away through, I've been expecting you.' He followed her through an open doorway and found himself not in her sitting room as he had expected but in the kitchen.

'Before we begin, sergeant, can I ask you something I ask all my visitors? Would you please make us a nice pot of tea. I can manage a bag in a mug these days, but I do so much prefer it properly made.'

'So do I,' said the detective. 'Show me where the tea is and I'm your man.'

Five minutes later, he poured perfectly brewed Darjeeling into two china cups and placed them on a side table between his hostess's chair and his own. 'Well done,' she exclaimed. 'Now, I'm at your disposal.

This is still about Gaynor, isn't it. I haven't read anything in the papers lately, so I suppose the mystery remains.'

'It does, Miss Ball. Now I've been asked to see if I can solve it.'

'So, how can I help?'

Mcllhenney settled into his seat. 'When you were interviewed by DCI Rose, you. mentioned that you have support from a disabled charity. Can you tell me which one it is?'

The woman nodded. 'Yes, of course, it's called Home Support. It's more than a disabled charity really; it looks after the continuing needs of people who've been through the hospital system.' Mcllhenney felt the first small pulse of excitement run through him.

'When you have a visit, is it the same person who comes all the time?'

'It is, yes. We all have case officers.'

'Who looks after you?'

'A very nice lady called Penelope dark.'

The sergeant managed to keep his expression unchanged. 'Can you remember if Gaynor ever met her?'

Joan Ball's eyes seemed to take on a knowing look, but her voice remained even as she replied. 'Oh yes, of course she did. They were great pals. One of the first times Penelope visited me, Gaynor called in for something, and I introduced them. They hit it off and after that, whenever she visited me in the evening or at weekends, she'd go next door to say hello.'

'When was the last time you saw her?'

'Last week. Before that, a couple of months ago.'

'Would that have been during the time when Mrs Weston was at home? In the two weeks before she died?'

Joan Ball thought for a moment. 'Yes, it was.'

'Did she call on her?'

'Yes, she did. That time she came during the day, which was unusual for her — she normally does her rural visits out of hours, as it were.

She noticed that Gaynor was in and popped in to see her.'

Both cups of tea were untouched and cooling. Mcllhenney took them into the kitchen poured them down the sink, and poured a slightly stewed refill for Miss Ball. 'That's been very helpful,' he said, as he replaced the cup on the side table. 'I have to go now, but I may need to talk to you again. If I do, I'll call you.'

'No,' she said, sipping awkwardly. 'Come to see me. You make damn good tea.'

Mcllhenney grinned. 'I'll try,' he promised. 'I'll let myself out.'

'If you would.' He had almost left the room when she spoke again.

'Very able woman, Penelope. Well qualified for her job too. She's a doctor, you know.'