The Strangling on the Stage

TWENTY-THREE

‘And what the hell are you doing here?’

Neither of them had noticed the door open, but they both looked up at the sound of Mike Winstone’s voice. He was standing in the doorway, blazered and more red-faced than ever.

‘I just came to visit Hester,’ replied Jude, sounding cooler than she felt as she rose from her chair.

‘Oh yes? And aren’t you aware that she’s meant to be having a course of rest and recuperation?’

‘I don’t think my presence will have delayed either her rest or her recuperation.’

‘I’ll have a strong word with the people downstairs. They shouldn’t just let anyone wander in to a place like this.’

‘I spoke to the Director. I’m here with his blessing.’

‘Well, you’re not here with my blessing.’ As he spoke Mike Winstone’s face grew redder still. He sat himself down with a proprietorial manner in the chair that Jude had just vacated.

‘I’ll be leaving shortly,’ Jude said.

‘I’m glad to hear it. And you’re involved with that “Saddoes” lot, are you?’ He deliberately used the diminishing mispronunciation.

‘Yes.’

‘Well, if you value your life, don’t you dare mention to any of them that Hester’s in here, will you?’

‘I had no plans to mention it.’

‘Keep it that way.’

‘So officially she’s still “staying with a friend”, is she?’

‘Yes. And it’s bloody inconvenient having her away from the house. There are only so many takeaways and pub meals I can put up with.’

‘I’m sorry, Mike.’ It was the first time Hester had spoken since his arrival.

‘So you bloody should be. Have the quacks here given any indication of when they’re going to let you out?’

‘I’m afraid not.’ Hester sounded very down. ‘The psychiatrist says he can definitely see some improvement.’ She offered this tentatively, a sop to her husband’s anger.

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. ‘Huh, it’s all so bloody vague, isn’t it? The whole business of “mental illness”. Because ultimately, at some point the patient has to make the effort themselves. You know, snap out of it, stand on their own two feet, start to take responsibility for their life again.’

‘I am trying to get better, Mike. Really.’

Hester sounded so reduced that Jude was tempted to say something in her defence, but it wasn’t the moment to step in between husband and wife. Though she couldn’t envisage much improvement in Hester’s condition until Mike acknowledged that she was genuinely ill.

‘Well, I hope you get sorted by the end of next week. The boys have got an exeat from school, and subjecting them to a whole weekend of my cooking comes under the definition of child abuse.’

‘I’ll do my best,’ said Hester in a very thin voice.

‘None of this would have happened,’ Mike grumbled, ‘if you hadn’t got involved with that bunch of “Saddoes”. God, what a load of posturing toss-pots they are. When I saw that idiot showing off his hanging on that gallows contraption …’

‘Were you actually in Saint Mary’s Hall for the demonstration?’ asked Jude.

‘Yes, came in to hurry Hest along a bit. She said the rehearsal finished at six, and it was easily ten past before—’

‘And,’ Jude interrupted, ‘you knew that Ritchie Good was later strangled by the apparatus?’

‘Oh certainly, I heard. Serve the bugger right, I thought. So end all show-offs, if I had my way. Good riddance. As I say, except for his bloody stupidity, my wife wouldn’t have been traumatized – or whatever other fancy word the shrinks use for it – and she wouldn’t be locked up here in a loony bin.’ Clearly Mike Winstone was never going to score any points for political correctness. His bluff cricketing bonhomie had completely evaporated.

Jude didn’t think there was a lot more she could do. She didn’t want to create any further cause of discord between Hester and her husband. Sorting out what was already wrong with their relationship would involve going back many years into the past – and might only serve to make things worse – so she said she’d better be on her way. ‘But I’ve got your mobile number, Hester, so I’ll give you a call when—’

‘My wife doesn’t have her mobile phone with her,’ Mike Winstone announced.

‘Oh? Don’t the authorities here at Casements allow clients to—’

‘I don’t allow it. Hest is here for rest and recuperation, not for chattering endlessly to all her women friends.’

‘But surely talking to her friends—’

‘Will you allow me to know what is right for my own wife!’ The words were almost shouted.

Jude left. In spite of Mike Winstone’s clear disapproval, she gave Hester a hug and a kiss. Then she went downstairs to Rob’s office. He was interested to hear that Jude had done some healing on the patient, and wanted to know how it had gone. ‘Maybe you could try some more with her?’ he suggested.

Jude grimaced. ‘I don’t think I’d better until it’s been cleared with her husband.’

‘Ah yes. I saw him coming in. Apparently he was just passing. Maybe I should try to persuade him of the efficacy of another healing session?’

‘Good luck,’ said Jude.

‘Well, we have made one big advance,’ said Carole when Jude had finished reporting her encounter with Hester Winstone.

‘Hm?’

‘Assuming that Hester was telling the truth – and there doesn’t seem to be any reason why she shouldn’t be – we know that Ritchie Good caused his own death. He just wanted to show off the gallows to her.’

‘Yes.’

‘Which is quite a relief, in a way.’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, trying to create a scenario in which someone actually persuaded him to put the noose round his neck, or manhandled him into doing it or made him do it at gunpoint … well, none of those ever sounded very convincing, did they? But the idea that he put his head in the noose of his own volition, that makes a lot more sense.’

Jude nodded. ‘And then there’s only one thing we have to find out. Who switched the Velcroed noose for the real one.’

‘Exactly.’

‘And why they did it.’