Nightfall

46

Mrs Fraser was sitting behind her desk when an assistant showed Nightingale into her office. The Australian male nurse was also there, his arms folded across his chest, his face a blank mask. Mrs Fraser didn’t get up and waved Nightingale to a chair.

‘What happened?’ asked Nightingale.

‘What happened, Mr Nightingale, is that after you visited her for the second time, your mother took a knife and slashed her wrists,’ said the administrator.

‘What was she doing with a knife?’

‘She was eating her dinner. Your mother wasn’t considered a danger to herself or anyone else, so the use of cutlery wasn’t an issue.’

‘Did she leave a note?’ asked Nightingale. ‘Do you have any idea why she did it?’

‘She did it because you upset her,’ said the male nurse. ‘She was fine before you came along.’

‘She was practically psychotic,’ said Nightingale. ‘According to you she never spoke, but she spoke to me.’

‘And then she killed herself,’ said the nurse. ‘What did you say to her?’

The administrator raised a hand to silence him. ‘Darren, please, let me handle this.’

‘What’s to be handled?’ asked Nightingale.

‘The thing is, Mr Nightingale, as things stand we have no confirmation that you are in fact Miss Keeley’s son.’

Nightingale reached into his jacket pocket and took out an envelope. ‘Here’s the result of the DNA test I told you about,’ he said. ‘It clearly shows she was my mother.’

Mrs Fraser took the report out of the envelope and read it. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘How did you get a sample of her DNA?’

‘I borrowed a hairbrush,’ said Nightingale. ‘The cells on the root of the hair are all they need these days.’

‘You stole a hairbrush?’

‘I borrowed it,’ said Nightingale. ‘And, as you can see, I’m quite definitely her son so there’s no problem at all in my visiting her.’

‘Your mother killed herself, Mr Nightingale,’ said Mrs Fraser. ‘Questions are being asked as to how that happened, and it might be that our level of care is called into question.’ She gave the report back to him.

‘My mother was upset. I don’t see that anyone can blame you,’ said Nightingale.

‘She died in our care, which means we’re responsible,’ said Mrs Fraser.

‘Have the police been informed?’ asked Nightingale.

Mrs Fraser nodded. ‘Yes, but purely as a formality,’ she said.

‘She died in my arms,’ said the nurse. ‘I was holding her while she bled to death.’ There were tears in his eyes.

‘Did she say anything?’ asked Nightingale.

The nurse shook his head.

‘The point, Mr Nightingale, is that it was clearly your visits that upset Miss Keeley,’ said Mrs Fraser. ‘I think we’re all agreed that prior to your visits she was calm, albeit uncommunicative. And afterwards…’

‘I understand,’ said Nightingale. ‘I certainly wouldn’t be in disagreement with you on that.’

‘That’s good to hear, Mr Nightingale,’ she said.

Nightingale leaned forward. ‘I’m not looking to blame anyone, Mrs Fraser, and I hope that’s your position. My mother was obviously very disturbed, and I know you were giving her the very best care possible.’ He looked at the male nurse. ‘Darren thought a lot of my mother, and I could see she really appreciated the way he took care of her. I agree that my suddenly turning up upset her, but I don’t think that anyone could have foreseen that she would harm herself.’

They were more concerned about a possible legal suit or bad publicity than they were about why Rebecca Keeley had killed herself, Nightingale realised. The meeting was about avoiding blame, nothing else. ‘As to what I said to my mother, it was just family stuff. I showed her photographs of when I was a kid, and we talked about them. I don’t know why she got so upset in the garden, but as soon as Darren asked me to leave, I did.’

Mrs Fraser nodded, and even managed a smile. ‘Thank you for your understanding, Mr Nightingale. You can imagine how upset we all are. One never likes to lose a resident, especially under such circumstances.’ She picked up a pen and toyed with it. ‘We have to make arrangements,’ she said, ‘for the funeral.’

‘What normally happens?’ asked Nightingale.

‘It depends on whether the resident has family or not. If there’s no one, we arrange a service at the local crematorium.’

‘Can you do that for my mother?’ said Nightingale. ‘So far as I know I’m her only living relative, and it would be a big help.’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Mrs Fraser.

‘I’ll pay. Whatever costs there are, just let me know.’

‘Mrs Keeley’s fees were paid by the local authority, and they’ll bear the cost of the funeral,’ said Mrs Fraser. ‘Now, what would you like us to do with her belongings? Her clothes and such.’

‘What normally happens?’

‘If there are relatives we give them everything. Otherwise we clean any clothing and send it to charity shops, along with electrical equipment and other articles that people might want. The rest we throw away.’ She grimaced. ‘It’s sad, but most of our residents don’t have much left by the time they come here.’

‘Charity shops sound like a good idea,’ said Nightingale.

‘The crucifix,’ said the nurse. ‘Don’t forget the crucifix.’

‘Oh, yes, your mother always wore it,’ said Mrs Fraser. ‘It was a great comfort to her.’

Nightingale turned to the nurse. ‘Would you like it, Darren?’

‘Oh, that’s not possible,’ said Mrs Fraser, quickly. ‘It’s against company policy, I’m afraid. We’re not allowed to accept bequests from our residents. Under any circumstances. We had a bad experience a few years ago.’

‘I understand,’ said Nightingale. He took out one of his business cards and gave it to her. ‘You can send it to me here.’

Mrs Fraser studied the card. ‘I didn’t know you were a private detective,’ she said.

‘For my sins,’ said Nightingale.

‘That can’t be a pleasant occupation.’

‘It has its moments,’ said Nightingale.