11. Mistaken Identity?

An unexpected character enters the scene tnd confuses the DI.

THE BODY IN THE BED

11. Mistaken Identity?

“Excuse me, Megan” a voice said as Megan furtively followed the woman she recognised as Ms Mason from Conehill Crescent.

It was a woman’s voice and it came from the direction of a shelter designed for people waiting for taxis or buses if the weather suggested they might need somewhere to shelter in. A youngish woman possibly in her thirties separated from a small crowd that had climbed off a minibus, and she made purposefully for them.

“Do you want me?” Megan asked, frowning. She hadn’t been in Brumpton for very long and had struggled to get to know anyone she might find friendly or relate to in other than a police-force way

“Are you Megan?” asked the woman, smiling, “because if you’re not I’m sorry but you look exactly what my husband said a lass answering to the name of Megan looks like!”

“The it’s possible that’s me,” she replied doubtfully, and added “your husband?”

“That’s right. He’s in the police force like you and he knew I was coming here. He rang me just as the bus was pulling in! He said you might need some help. By the way, I’m Daisy Bidcott. Do you know Ian?”

“DI Bidcott? Of course I do! I was with him and then we found what we thought was a corpse, but it moaned so we guess it wasn’t quite a corpse, and he asked me to accompany it to A&E.”

“We’re right, then?” smiled Daisy, “and when he rang me, knowing I was kn the way to get the latest Covid jab, he asked if I could keep a weather-eye open for you because you’d spotted a woman he believes has done a spot of murdering. Is that right?”

“Something like that. Look: over there, going through the emergency entrance as we speak.”

“He wants us to make sure she doesn’t get away,” grinned Daisy, “and I’m always up for it when he has something like this for me to do. It gives us something to talk about when we get in bed at night and he’s too tired to be interesting in any other way, if you know what I mean.

Megan did think she knew exactly what Daisy meant, but it seemed like a dozen steps too far to talk about her boss, good looking as he was, going too far in any direction. So she just grinned and nodded.

“Come on, then!” urged Daisy, and she half-ran towards the emergency entrance, just about catching up with the woman that Megan had been ordered to keep an eye on.

“Why, it is you isn't it?” cooed Daisy when the woman was only a couple of yards or so ahead of them and looking round, clearly unsure of her way. As soon as she heard Daisy she spun round and, fortunately looked directly at Daisy rather than at Megan because of course, she would have recognised Megan straight away and probably been put on her guard.

“No… er maybe… yes…” she stuttered.

“Of course! It was years ago now wasn’t it? But you are the mother of that lovely boy who had his arm badly broken, aren’t you?”

Ms Salmon, as she was now called, scowled at her. “That was in a different life and a long time ago,” she muttered.

“And of course you won’t know me from Eve, will you, after all these years,” almost cooed Daisy, “He was in my class at Cotedove first school! And you must have come to talk about him when we had a parents’ evening.”

“Maybe I did,” almost growled the woman, clearly not trusting Daisy or anything she said.

“He was such a quiet boy,” rambled Daisy, “and I know we teachers are not supposed to have favourites, but if I were to have one it would have been him! Such a placid personality. It was a pity about that accident with his arm, it kept him away from me for what seemed ages!”

If I was a male teacher saying this I’d be arrested, thought Daisy, still smiling.

“I’m going… to… somewhere,” stammered the woman, her ayes having caught sight of the figure of the DI as he forced his way through the door, accompanied by his sergeant

“But we’ve only just met!” exclaimed Daisy, “and I’m sure you’ve got loads to tell me about such a wonderful little boy! And look! Here’s my husband coming towards us! He’s a policeman, you know…”

But there was no point in her saying any more because the woman had side-stepped Megan and was struggling looking for an exit or entrance, maybe either would do. But to no avail Within minutes she was in the firm grip of Sergeant Puller, with Ian Bincott grinning at her.

“Why, Ms Samson,” he said in a voice loud enough to carry throughout the waiting room, “just the lady I’ve been looking for, the one with a husband, or is it boyfriend, in Africa when he isn’t being kept nice and cool in our mortuary.”

“He ain’t in no mortuary!” snapped Eileen Samson, “I told you! He’s somewhere with kiddies in Africa, teaching them about good and evil and the baby Jesus!”

“So you said, but it wasn’t quite the truth, was it?” urged Ian. “Unless I’m mistaken, that is. Because we’ve got the spitting image of the man in the photograph on your mantelpiece, the gentleman who’s standing affectionately close to you, in our fridge, and you know what? He’s got a bullet hole in him! What do you make of that Ms Samson, a lovely bullet hole that I’m sure will match the gun we’ll find in your house when we look a little bit harder!”

“No he ain’t!” shouted Eileen, “he’s in Africa, he is, and the one in your morgue is his brother, Maxwell, his actual twin brother! And if you’re looking for a b*****d then it’s him you should be defrosting and calling names to, not my saintly man in Africa!

“But we’ve made enquiries,” said ian, with a little less certainty than was his usual confident tone, “and nobody with his name, either with or without a dog collar, has crossed by air or sea to Africa for as long as records go back!”

“Then look for finger prints,” Eileen told him, ‘cause they might be identical twins, and I’ve read that identical twins won’t have identical finger prints, will they? And then you’ll know who’s telling the truth!”

Ian sighed, exasperated. “I tell you what,” he said as calmly as he could, “let’s go to the station where we can sort this out once and for all. And maybe have a nice cup of tea.” Then he turned to Daisy. “Thanks for your help, love,” he said, “I’ll take it from here. But I wasn’t expecting you to be on that bus. What are you doing here?”

“Covid jab,” replied Daisy, “and you get yours today too. Have you forgotten already?”

He smiled at his wife. “I’ll call in later,” he said, “after I’ve done a spot of investigating and arresting.”

Daisy watched him go, then made her way into the hospital to where the latest round of jabs against what had threatened to be a devastating pandemic until recently were being dished out. Meanwhile, Ian and his DC led Eileen Salmon to his car, and from there to the Brumpton Police Station.

Megan followed on.

She smiled to herself. Now she knew why her DI seemed such a decent man. She’d met his wife.

© Peter Rogerson 29.05.23

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