Lily herself was in a bad way: fearful and anxious, and muttering all that stuff about poison – common delusion Mrs Knight had said. Like the stealing. ‘They’re taking it all,’ she’d said. Diane thought I should check her will, must ask Agnes about that. What had Charles found out about her assessment? How were they treating her? Would she stay there?
The road was snarled up with traffic heading up Princess Parkway towards the city. Half the cars sported blue and white scarves. Football. City were playing at home. Diane could watch the match from her bedroom window if she’d wanted to. Her neighbours round the corner were less fortunate, the massive new stand the club had bought not only deprived them of any view but cut off their TV reception for most of the year and rendered their homes impossible to sell. The whole street were seeking compensation.
What was I doing? Saturday afternoon in a traffic jam, shaken up by a visit to a stranger with Alzheimer’s. I was here for the money, yes, but the case was becoming absurd. My client was lying to me, and there probably was no case, just an unfortunate set of circumstances.
I felt a surge of anger towards Agnes. I couldn’t do a good job without her co-operation. I didn’t need excuses and half-truths. By the time I reached my office I’d rehearsed what I wanted to say to Agnes. First, I knew her sister, Nora, had been a patient at Kingsfield. If that meant she couldn’t bring herself to visit her friend Lily then so be it. As for me, I was a private investigator not a hospital visitor.
Secondly, as far as I could see Lily was pretty ill and Agnes would have to work with Charles, next of kin and all that, to press for the best available care.
Third and finally, there was little else I could usefully do other than report back on the analysis of the tablets. Once we’d got the results we’d know if there had been any malpractice by Goulden or Homelea. But for the present Agnes needed to concentrate on making Lily’s remaining time as comfortable as possible. The case was practically over.
In the office I intended to jot it all down and work out a provisional bill. It was possible there’d be bad feeling between us and I wanted to make sure Agnes had a report of exactly what work I’d done and my conclusions. Formal and professional in case things got messy.
Best laid plans.
The answerphone was blinking. I realised I’d not taken any messages for a while. I hadn’t been in the office since Wednesday, apart from calling in for the negatives with the police, and I hadn’t been in a position then to attend to the mundane.