Friday cont.
The patrol car arrived at the vicarage before Gary and Cleo,
but the patrol officers were loath to go upstairs to Edith’s utility room
without Gary’s authority.
“I’m Beatrice Pope. It’s been quiet all night,” Beatrice
told them. “I expect my sister-in-law was exhausted after her antics. She’s
upstairs in her room and I locked her in.”
The patrol officers did not know what Beatrice was talking
about, since they had only received an emergency call to go to the vicarage and
collect a woman named Edith Parsnip for questioning at HQ. The woman they were
talking to was obviously not the person they were to collect.
Beatrice did not appear alarmed that the officers did not go
straight upstairs to investigate. They did not particularly want to do anything
on their own initiative and were glad to accept Beatrice’s offer of a cup of
tea . The house was quiet. There was no hurry, they decided, and that would be
their story.
***
Gary was of quite a different opinion. He and Cleo were now
seriously worried. Gary was irate when he found the patrol officers sitting
quite cosily in the vicarage kitchen drinking tea and dunking biscuits.
“Is the key of the room in the door, Beatrice?” Cleo asked.
Beatrice nodded.
“This is not a bloody tea-party,” Gary remarked, and Cleo
could hear strains of the old Gary dealing with people he considered inept.
The patrol officers looked dismayed.
“Have you been up there to investigate?” Gary asked in a
softer tone and they shook their heads. Babes in the wood, he thought. Young
guys straight from college. He could not blame them for wanting senior guidance.
He commanded them to follow him.
“I’d better go in first,” said Gary, climbing the stairs two
at a time, with Cleo and the tea-drinkers close behind.
Beatrice watched from the bottom of the stairs, but
eventually climbed them as curiosity overcame her.
Cleo‘s hunch was justified. The room was chaotic. The
contents of shelves and drawers and a big sewing box had been thrown onto the
floor. Edith lay sprawled on the daybed, bleeding and looking more dead than
alive. It looked as if she had tried to kill herself.
“She could have jumped out of the window,” said Gary. “That
would have been less messy and more effective.”
The young patrol officers looked horrified. They would have
been even more horrified if they had known what the vicar’s wife had been up
to.
”She was probably not in her right mind,” Cleo said quickly.
“Phone for an ambulance,” Gary shouted to Beatrice, who was
now standing aghast in the utility room doorway. “She’s still breathing. The breathing
is shallow and she’s lost a lot of blood, but she’s alive if we act fast.”
Beatrice hurried downstairs to phone from the house phone.
She needed a moment to digest the horror of the scene she had just witnessed.
“It would almost be better to let her die,” said Cleo.
“You know we can’t do that, Cleo.”
“Sure. I wasn’t suggesting it, but life will never be the
same for her again.”
“That’s probably just as well,” said Gary.
Blood was trickling out of jagged cuts on her wrists and
spreading across her stomach.
Cleo found some cord, cut two pieces off and tied them
tightly above the wounds. Then she held Edith’s arms in an upright position.
The stomach bleeding continued unabated.
One of Edith’s hands was still clutching an instrument that
looked like half a pair of scissors.
“So she didn’t just use a bread-knife, did she? I assume that
the wrist-cutting had not satisfied her sex lust so she jammed the scissors in
her stomach.
An officer was called to take over Cleo’s job of keeping
Edith’s arms stretched up. His face was averted and he wished he was somewhere
else.
Cleo prised free the small tool with a white mother-of-pearl
handle out of Edith’s left hand. “These tools are used to cut through seams
that need to be opened.”
“I didn’t know there was such a thing,” said Gary.
“It’s called a seam ripper. I did not know it was also a wrist
ripper,” said Cleo. “They are razor sharp, like craft knives, and often part of
sewing machine equipment. Every seamstress needs a seam ripper now and again,
but not usually to cut her wrists.”
The patrol officers gasped. They had never been confronted
with Cleo’s kind of bluntness before.
“It’s possible that Edith realized that the wrist-cutting
was not working fast enough, so she grabbed that tool instead,” Cleo continued.
Beatrice squeezed past the group and opened a window. She
thought Cleo was being too brutal for the young patrol officers, who looked
nauseated by the scenario.
The paramedics arrived quite fast. Soon after, the doctor on
duty was on hand to see what had happened and attend to the patient.
“She has not been like this very long,” he said. “She did
not lose all this blood from those cuts in her wrists.”
“She has a stomach wound,” said Cleo. “Perhaps that’s the
cause.”
The wound in her stomach was bleeding copiously, but it had
not been deep enough to kill her, the doctor reported.
“Typical for self-injury,” he said. “More dramaturgical than
suicidal”.
“Aren’t you being rather cynical?” said Gary.
“You would be if you got to see so much human nature in the
raw,” the doctor retorted.
“My husband sees worse cases than those of physical injury,”
said Cleo in defence.
Gary smiled a wan smile at Cleo. She knew how hard he found
it to confront physical injury. She went to him and put a hand on his shoulder.
She could feel the deep sobs that were threatening to overcome him and often
asked herself what had happened in his life to make him so vulnerable.
***
“That silly woman must be tough,” said one paramedic, meaning
Edith.
“Tough or mad,” said the other.
“It’s just as well those craft scissors Edith used to stab
herself had blunt ends,” said Cleo.
“They are used by children to cut paper and are not meant to
be dangerous. But in the wrong hands, even a blunt instrument can do a lot of
damage,” said the doctor. “I can’t say how much, but deep enough here to cause extreme
blood loss.”
“There is no doubt that she knew how sharp a seam-ripper is.
I’m surprised she didn’t use it on her stomach,” said Cleo.
“So she used the kiddies’ scissors on her stomach, did she? said
Gary. “It may not have been a suicide attempt, after all?”
Gary was now that Robert might have found his way back to
deal with Edith and used those scissors himself.
“It was not Robert, in case that’s what you were thinking,
Gary,” said Cleo. “She will have used those blunt scissors herself. That and
the fact that she wounded herself, would explain why the stab-wound was not
very deep.”
The doctor looked at Cleo with astonishment.
“No, Doctor. My PhD is in sociology,” she said. But I know
Edith Parsnip well enough to know that she did not want to commit suicide. She
was enjoying life after being freed from her marriage.
***
The paramedics bandaged Edith’s wrists and after getting the
stomach bleeding to stop temporarily, packed her onto a stretcher and got her downstairs
and into the ambulance. Then they fixed drips and left, sirens howling, for the
next best hospital.
The doctor left after complimenting Cleo on her sensible reasoning.
The utility room door had been locked all night. Even if there were suspects,
intervention by another person was unlikely. The doctor would report an
attempted suicide. That would be enough to satisfy the powers that be.
***
Beatrice had watched the scenario and decided she would
rather not accompany Edith. She could not leave the vicarage empty and Mary
Baker unaware of what had happened.
Gary mused that it really did not matter if Edith was crazy
or not. She was a danger to herself and others. The doctor’s approach was
sensible. Accusing anyone of injuring her would have been speculative. No one
would want to hurt Edith except herself. At least, that’s what Gary hoped.
***
Cleo commented that trying to end her life was Edith’s final
attempt to escape from reality, which contradicted what she had told the
doctor, but left space to find out if someone else – Robert, if anyone - had been a witness or even hurt Edith himself.
Cleo wondered if Edith realized what she had done to Robert?
In manic phases of mental illness, victims could easily turn into offenders and
then back into victims, and that could have happened to Edith.
***
“What a mess, Cleo,” said Gary.
“You’ll have to tell Robert,” said Cleo.
“Not before I’ve complied with his wishes. He wanted an
official complaint and he’ll get one dated honestly before this incident.
That’s the least I can do and it is in the right order.”
“You won’t have to deal with his complaint, will you?”
“No, but I know the facts so far. I’ll pass it on to the
vice squad a.s.a.p.”
“Vice squad?”
“Rape.”
“It might not be necessary if Edith does not survive.”
“Rape is not a petty crime,” said Gary. ”It has to be
reported even if the victim does not want that. Many don’t because they are
ashamed or know the rapist. Admittedly, a rapist who tries to kill himself or
herself is unusual. They normally have more respect for themselves than for
their victims. That is one indication of Edith’s unstable mental condition.
Let’s get away from here now.”
I’ll just talk to Beatrice for a moment,” said Cleo.
“I’ll wait in the car,” said Gary.
Cleo went into the kitchen, where Beatrice was very
distressed and keeping herself busy to stop herself from even thinking of what
had happened under the vicarage roof while she was responsible.
“What if my brother was treated the same way by her?” she
said. “I’ll have to ask Clare what she thinks.”
“Siblings don’t always know what goes on in other siblings’
minds, Beatrice.”
“Someone must look after her,” said Beatrice, “and it won’t
be me. It’s up to Clare now.”
“You will still be here when the new curate gets home, won’t
you? She needs to know what has happened. It’s her house now, after all.”
“Of course. I had already decided to do that. I wonder what
will happen to Edith now.”
“The paramedics will deliver her to A & E and from there
she is sure to be treated for the wounds and put in the recovery ward.”
“I’ll strip the boys’ beds and get the washing done.”
“Don’t touch anything in the utility room, will you?”
“Of course not, but it’s a clear cut case of self-inflicted
harm, isn’t it?” said Beatrice.
If Beatrice had only disliked Edith before, she was also
disgusted now. Why hadn’t her brother got away from her sooner? Beatrice was
now sure that her brother had been on his way to Africa to escape from his
marriage.
“We don’t know that for sure, Beatrice. She has a stomach
wound and cut wrists,” said Cleo. “She may have been the victim of an attack. Did
Robert come back last night?”
“Not that I know of, Cleo. Surely you don’t suspect him?”
“I don’t know what to think. The doctor will report the
incident as attempted suicide and it’s technically possible.”
***
Left alone, another terrible thought occurred to Beatrice.
Bearing in mind that there was evidence that Edith had organized the finances
of the vicar’s Africa trip, it was on the cards that Edith had wanted to be rid
of him. Whichever way you looked at it, you met with desperation and abhorrence.
***
Cleo had kept Gary waiting until he felt he should go and
collect her.
“You will stay here, Beatrice, won’t you?” he said. “Until
the pathologist has confirmed that Edith tried to take her own life, there is a
possibility that someone else was involved.”
“I asked Beatrice if Robert had been here again after
leaving, Gary, but she can’t say.”
“He could have come in unseen,” said Gary. “That makes him a
suspect, Cleo.”
“But there’s no evidence that he did come back, Gary,” said
Cleo.
“OK. I won’t pull him in just yet, but you have to admit the
possibility. He might not be as innocent as he seems.”
***
It was not easy for Gary to infer to Cleo that her
ex-husband might have stabbed Edith, but it had to be done. Cleo felt the same.
Cleo hugged Beatrice. What a nightmare for her. Beatrice did
not even know if her sister-in-law had meant to kill her brother. Although Edith
had been cleared of that accusation thanks to a farcical legal error and the
compassion of a judge, it would be left to Beatrice to tell the boys where their
mother was now, though she would not find the right words to describe Edith’s
conduct. How could she?
“I’ll stay here until the police have finished their
investigations,” said Beatrice. “I should think that the new curate will be
glad of company tonight. Oscar is taking care of the boys. He can cope.”
Thank goodness for Beatrice’s long-suffering husband,
thought Cleo. He was worth his weight in gold, she told Gary.
Cleo and Gary drove back to HQ. Gary phoned Chris and asked
for the forensic team to examine Edith’s room for fresh prints in case there
had been an assassin.
“I should call Dorothy, Gary.”
“There’s no hurry. Chris and a team are on their way to the
vicarage and I don’t want Dorothy snooping around there, Cleo. There’s nothing
anyone can do. I hope the new curate will counsel Beatrice.”
“Do you really think anyone else was involved?”
“Only a medical expert can answer that with any certainty.”
***
“It’s still early, Gary. Let’s go to the registry office
now.”
“Happiness is going hand in hand with grief again, Cleo.”
“I don’t mean to be heartless.”
“I know that, my love.”
***
Gary had told the patrol officers that they could leave the
vicarage when the forensic team arrived. They would hand in a report of their
participation in the incident. He phoned the office from his car and told Nigel
there was a change of plans and he would not be in the office till later, if at
all that afternoon.
***
Back at the vicarage, Beatrice went outside and lit a
cigarette. Vicarage life would go on as usual, but with the subtle difference
that Mary Baker was now the householder and the Parsnips would have to move out,
however hospitable Miss Baker was.
A home would have to be found for the Parsnip boys if Edith
was detained or did not live. Beatrice was sure that Oscar would want them to
stay with them indefinitely. Was that what her younger brother would have
wanted? Would she ever forgive Edith for her conduct? Did it matter?
The Parsnip
era was over, once and for all.
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