Snakebite & Black
by elfin
Tuesday 5th - present day
Tom sat in the uncomfortable chair, feet apart on the floor, head in
his hands. His brain had picked up on the soft, incessant beeps
from the various machines hooked up to monitor patient progress and now
he couldn't hear anything else, the sounds seeming louder in his head
than they had been.
An hour ago one of the beeps had faltered then flatlined.
All Tom had been able to do was stand back, watch, wait and pray while
the High Dependency Unit’s medical team had restarted Troy’s heart,
taken samples of every bodily fluid and readings of every bodily
function available and administered another IV injection.
The unit was quiet now, its only patient unconscious and being
monitored by computers.
"Tom?"
His head snapped up at the whisper of his name. He smiled.
"George. Hi."
"How's he doing?"
Stupid question really. Tom glanced at the deathly pale figure
lying utterly still on the bed and tried to equate him with the lively
young man who shared such a huge part of his life. Bridging the
gap, he rubbed one clammy hand with the backs of his fingers, fighting
the tears in his eyes. It had been such a long day.
"Not great."
George nodded once. "He's young and healthy, Tom. He'll
pull through."
"He needs to fight it."
"And he is doing. If he wasn't he'd be dead."
Tom winced. "Thanks."
"Look, why don't I take you for a coffee?"
"No. I need to be here."
"You collapsing at his bedside won't help him." But Tom shook his
head. "All right. I'll bring you a coffee."
"Thanks."
He sat forward, curling his fingers around those rested on the
bed. His eyes traced the IV line from the back of the hand up to
the half-empty bag of saline on the hook just above him. More
tubes and wires surrounding the unconscious man: oxygen tube running
over his face and under his nose, ECG wires snaking out from under the
sheets, pulse rate monitor clipped to the end of his left index finger.
"Come on, Gavin," he murmured, gaze settling on the white, sweat-damp
face of his sergeant. "Stay with me. Please."
~
Saturday 2nd – three days ago
Used to being woken by the phone, Tom didn't even bother to open his
eyes.
He stuck out his hand, knocking a small bottle of something from the
bedside table before he found the receiver. But just before he
could lift it a second hand covered his and soft lips pressed a tender
kiss against the nape of his neck.
Tom opened his eyes. The person lying half-on, half-off his back
definitely wasn't his wife. This wasn't his bed. He turned
his head and mirrored the sleepy smile that met him.
Reality dawned.
Withdrawing his hand slowly he closed his eyes, relaxing again into the
warmth of his young lover, letting him answer the call.
"Troy."
Tom could hear the small voice on the other end of the line and
recognised the gentle Scottish accent of one of Causton's contingent of
duty officers.
"Sergeant? Officer Kimble, Causton nick. I've been trying
to reach your boss."
"They've been having phone problems," Troy lied smoothly, "and he never
remembers to charge his mobile. What's up?"
"A body out at Midsomer County College. A couple of science geeks
thought they'd do some extracurricular project work and found it.
Coroner's on his way."
Troy sighed. "Right. I'll rouse the chief on my way."
"Thanks." Kimble sounded relieved.
Tom rolled over when Troy hung up and dropped back to his own side of
the bed. For a long moment they looked at one another.
"Wow," Gavin whispered, smiling.
"Yes," Tom chuckled, "wow."
"We should probably talk about this."
Nodding, Tom agreed but he said, "It sounds like we don't have time
right now." Troy's smile faded and he started to turn, to get out
from under the duvet. "Wait." Tom stroked one hand over one
smooth hip and finely haired thigh. "That wasn't a brush off."
Troy hesitated. "Okay."
Craning his neck, Tom kissed him. "You can get up now."
~
Troy drove them to the college. They didn’t speak but the odd
glance and smile did pass between them.
Only when he turned the Rover in through the college gates did Tom
touch his hand where it hovered over the gear stick.
“I’ll buy you breakfast when we’ve finished. Somewhere
quiet?”
Not the station canteen then. Uncertain where the lines were now
that the borders had been blurred, Troy slowed the car and looked at
Tom.
“That’d be great.”
A nod and Troy could almost see the change as Tom became his boss
again. “We’re heading for the Science block, to your left.”
“George?” Tom stepped around the Coroner and crouched down,
staring at the twisted face of their victim.
“I’m sorry to have troubled you, Tom,” George apologised. “It’s
not murder, it’s an accident.” He considered for a moment.
“Either that or a very strange suicide.”
“Not with you.”
“This man died from a snake bite.” He glanced up around the
various glass tanks on the work surfaces and pointed to one just above
them. “From that, I’d guess.”
Tom stood slowly, looking into the tank at the black and white snake
where it seemed to be curled quite happily.
“What is it?”
“It’s a Rattlesnake, Sir,” Troy put in. Tom glanced at him.
“A diamondback, I’d say. Not often you see them over here.”
“Over here?”
“In the UK.”
Struck by his sergeant’s smile, it was a moment before Tom realised
George was speaking to him.
“…no idea why he’d go about sticking his hand in striking distance of a
Rattlesnake.”
“You’re sure that’s what killed him?”
“Oh, yes. I’ll do an autopsy of course but I’m 99% sure.”
“Time of death?”
“Sometime… late last night would be my guess.”
“All right. Let me know if there’re any signs that his hand was
forced into that tank.”
“Naturally.”
Tom thanked him and turned to Troy. “I want to speak to whoever’s
responsible for this lab.”
“Mr Redpath, Sir,” Troy introduced just under an hour later. Tom
had found an empty break room and surprisingly good coffee. Thus
the wait wasn’t too arduous. “Sorry, I had to go and pick him up
from home – he doesn’t drive.”
Tom stared at him for a moment. What else did Troy do in the
background that he knew nothing about? Pulling himself together
he stood and shook Redpath’s outstretched hand. He threw a
grateful smile at his sergeant who was finding a clean page in his
notebook.
Redpath took the offered seat and Tom sat down opposite him, putting
the table between them, hyper-aware of Troy perched on the other end.
“Your sergeant told me there had been an accident,” Redpath started.
“Yes. I’m afraid a young man got too close to your Rattlesnake.”
A grief-stricken expression crossed the man’s face. “Oh
no…. Who is it?”
“I was hoping you’d tell me. If you don’t mind?”
“You want me to identify the body?”
“In a while. First, tell me about the snake. My sergeant
tells me Rattlesnakes are rare in this country.”
Troy smiled to himself.
“Yes. Oscar’s on loan from an American University. Students
here studying zoology have a rare chance to spend time around him.”
“Oscar?”
Redpath glanced at Troy. “That’s his name.”
A few minutes later Tom led Redpath through into the lab. He
paled significantly when George uncovered the body but identified the
dead man as one of his students, Carl Evans.
They didn’t get much from him after that. Carl had a girlfriend,
Marla, in the same class. He was a good student, aiming for a
place at Oxford University. Redpath had no idea what Carl was
doing in the lab so late on a Friday night or why he had his hand in
Oscar’s tank.
“Do you think Dr Bullard’s right, Sir, that it was an accident?”
Troy unlocked the car and dropped into the driver’s seat.
“Probably.” Tom fastened his seatbelt. “That’s the problem
with this place. After a while everything starts looking
suspicious.” He shrugged. “Right, I promised you breakfast.”
~
Tuesday 5th – present day
In the Family room just outside the HDU, George handed Tom a mug of
real coffee that he took gratefully.
“All I’ve had is brown sludge from the machine. How did you…?”
“I know one of the nurses, she dug out a couple of mugs and some decent
stuff.”
“Thank you.”
Tom perched himself on the edge of the battered couch and after a
moment’s hesitation George sat down close beside him. Keeping his
voice quiet, he asked, “Do you want to talk about it, Tom?”
“About what?”
George shook his head once. “How long have we known each other?”
Tom sipped his coffee. “Long enough to know when to leave things
alone.”
“Is that what you want? I’m here, Tom. Who else can you
talk to?” George heard the soft sigh and took it as
acquiescence. “Does Joyce know?”
“No one knows. It only started four days ago.” Tom rubbed
his eyes. “Four days and now I could lose him.”
“He’s not going to die. I told you, he’s tough.”
He nodded, wishing he could be as certain, could believe in Gavin’s
will to live. Had he given him enough reason?
“Tell me about it. I mean, I know you’ve always had a soft spot
for him.”
“Yes.” He smiled. “Three weeks ago over lunch he asked me
if I would recommend him for entrance for the Inspector’s Exams.
Of course I said I’d be happy to. I know he can do it….” He
stumbled over the words, thinking about Gavin and the machines helping
him fight for his life. “Then last week I start receiving phone
calls from various DCIs in various northern locations offering him
positions as Inspector.
“I’d never equated his promotion with his leaving Midsomer. I
should have spoken to him but instead I kept quiet, winding myself up
more and more. Joyce went to stay with her mother on Friday
night. I moped around the house for a couple of hours and finally
called Gavin. I thought he’d be busy or have company or something
but he said he was free and met me at The Green Man in town. We
had a couple of beers and… talked. I’d never just talked to him
before, you know? All the time we’ve spent together…. I
told him about the job offers and he told me he didn’t want them.
When I asked him why….” Tom smiled a little smile. “We went
back to his place and… ended up on the sofa like a couple of randy
teenagers!”
It was a minute or two before he risked a glance at George. His
old friend was smiling.
“He’s a good man, Tom.”
“I think I’m in love with him.”
“That’s a relief. Wouldn’t want to think you were risking your
marriage and career for a mere crush.” George winked.
“These last couple of days I’ve worried about his career. Now….”
“He’ll make it.”
~
Saturday 2nd – three days ago
Tom considered The Star in Midsomer Worthy as a treasured find.
It opened at 7.30am six days a week not to serve alcohol but hot
buttered toast, properly poached eggs, tea and coffee.
Ordering two rounds of everything, Tom joined Troy at a corner
table. There was only one other patron in the pub and he was
engrossed in the morning papers; Tom touched the tips of his fingers to
Gavin’s on the tabletop. It was supposed to be a fleeting touch
but he found himself playing brushing over clean fingernails and rough
skin, his little finger running over the gold ring on Gavin’s pinky.
Troy watched his chief with amused affection.
“Tom?”
His head snapped up. “Sorry.”
But Troy was faster, lacing their fingers, holding him there.
“Don’t apologise.”
“You know… we need to get passed this.”
Tom was stroking again, tracing patterns over Gavin’s fingers in small,
incredibly erotic movements.
“We’ll be able to work together,” he reassured.
Tom raked his eyes over Gavin’s hair, his face, his mouth…. “I’m
glad you’re sure.” He caught the answering expression and shook
his head. “No! I didn’t mean….” Taking a deep breath
he smiled with a shake of his head. “God, Gavin.”
“We’ll work it out.”
“And when did you become the sensible one?”
The landlord called out that their breakfast was ready and Tom went up
to collect it, waving Troy to sit down when he went to get up.
“You’re my sergeant not my servant.”
Gavin chuckled to himself. He’d honestly believed he would be the
one to freak out but every time Tom looked at him he felt more loved
than he’d ever been and it wasn’t frightening, it was wonderful.
Tom on the other hand couldn’t seem to keep his hands off him.
Some reassurance needed, he thought. He could do
reassurance. Tom was home to him in every sense of the word.
The coffee was wonderfully hot and smooth. The butter had melted
through on the toast and eggs were perfectly cooked.
They talked about the case that wasn’t and about Troy’s exams.
Tom tried to stop the images and sounds of the previous night from
popping back into his head but he wasn’t always successful.
He knew intimately how Gavin tasted; his mouth, his skin, the salty
pre-cum on the head of his cock. He knew the little whimpers that
broke from the back of his throat whenever the pleasure he felt was
more than he could take. He knew the strong grip of those long
fingers, the teasing caress of the tip of his tongue, the incredible
heat of his body inside and out.
Tom groaned and sat back, dropping his head against the wooden panel
behind him and closing his eyes.
“Sir?”
A second groan. “I swear Gavin, you turn a simple term of respect
into a pornographic nickname.” Troy laughed, he couldn’t help
it. “I haven’t felt this way since I was twenty!”
Leaning forward, Troy murmured, “I’ve never felt this way.”
~
Sunday 3rd - two days ago
This time Tom didn’t try to answer the phone when it rang. He lay
still, enjoying having his naked lover clamber over him to reach the
receiver.
“Troy.”
“Morning, Sergeant. Sorry, but you’re going to have to rouse your
chief for me again, you’ve got another one.”
‘Not sure he can take any more rousing. Me neither.’ Gavin
bit back the words. “Where?”
“12 Causton Road, Midsomer Worthy. Man dead in his dinner.”
Troy rolled his eyes. “Right, thank you.” He hung up and
dropped back to the mattress, kicking off his side of the duvet and
stretching out. A second or two later he felt the touch of lips
against his shoulder. “We have to go?”
“Some bloke found dead in Midsomer Worthy, sounds like he might have
been there over night.”
Tom winced. “And just as the day was starting out so nicely.”
~
“George?”
Tom watched his sergeant vanish into another room before he turned his
full attention to the coroner who was hunched over the dead man at the
kitchen table.
“I would say poison, Tom. I won’t know for sure until the
toxicology results come back, naturally, but it’s my best guess.”
There were plenty of options around. Wine glass half-filled with
a Merlot, the bottle still on the side next to the sink, the plate of
half-eaten chilli the dead man had narrowly missed ending up face-down
in.
Tom checked the dishwasher and found evidence that a second person
might have been enjoying the same meal.
“Nothing, Sir,” Troy announced, strolling back into the kitchen.
“Bed’s made, lounge is tidy. No sign of a break in or a
struggle.” He gave his report to his chief, succinct, straight
and to the point, as if they hadn’t spent the last two nights in bed
together.
“Well there wouldn’t be, would there? Whoever killed him sat down
to have dinner with him.” He glanced at George for confirmation
of time of death. The coroner nodded once. “Poisoned him
somehow and then made a sloppy job of clearing up, putting the dishes
in the washer but not bothering to turn it on.”
Troy rolled his eyes. “Probably a student.”
Tom ignored him. “Who found him?”
Glancing at his notebook, his sergeant came up with a name.
“Martha Cartwheel, his cleaning lady.”
“Where is she?”
Martha was distraught, beside herself. He was a lovely man, Mr
Kirkpatrick. Never harmed a soul. His daughter would have
to be told, of course. She lived in Causton along with several
other young people.
“What’s her name?” Tom asked as gently as he could.
“Marla.”
“The name of the unfortunate Carl Evans’ girlfriend,” Troy remarked in
the car.
“Yes. The two deaths have to be related otherwise it’s a too much
of a coincidence.”
“But I thought we’d concluded Carl was killed by a snake bite?”
“We have. He did. But why was he there, Troy? And was
there anyone with him?”
“You think Marla was there. And that she didn’t leave empty
handed.”
It was further than Tom had got and he looked over at his sergeant,
taking his eyes off the road – a rare event when Troy was
driving. “Go on.”
“Well… it depends what Mr Kirkpatrick was poisoned with. But if
it was snake venom….”
“You’re a genius.” Tom glowed with pride, taking out his mobile
and dialled the coroner.
Tom had broken the news to Marla as gently as possible. There’d
been no outburst, no show of emotion, no tears of grief.
Simply, “Oh.”
“You weren’t close to your father?” Troy asked, just as gentle.
“You could say that.”
Marla was a typical student as far as Tom knew. Jeans, threadbare
sweater, hair in a ponytail and NHS glasses. At school she’d
probably have been picked on or bullied. But at college she
thrived, finding her own way, no longer having to pretend to be someone
she wasn’t. He wondered if his opinion was founded on anything
but bad television dramas and hoped Cully had enjoyed her school
days. She’d seemed to, for the most part.
He glanced at Troy and wondered the same thing about the young man.
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“The weekend. I went home to collect some things and he made me a
sandwich.”
“So you were on speaking terms.”
She regarded him with contempt. “He was my father.”
Tom picked up the questioning. “Do you have a boyfriend,
Marla?” He was aware he sounded his age at that moment and wished
he could have found some other way of phrasing it.
“What’s it to do with you?”
“Were you dating Carl Evans? The lad who died two days ago?”
She paled slightly then – finally – and ducked her head.
“Yeah. I liked him. I didn’t love him,” she stressed the
word as if it was offensive, “but he was nice, generous.”
“Do you know how he died?”
“Everyone knows. Oscar got him.”
“Do you….” Tom’s mobile interrupted him and Troy took over
seamlessly. “Do you what he was doing in the lab that night?”
“Barnaby.”
“Tom? George.”
“What have got for me?”
“I think you should come over. I have both bodies side by side –
Carl Evans and Tony Kirkpatrick – and there’s something interesting.”
“We’ll be with you in half an hour. Any idea about that poison?”
“Now, now, Tom – you know the toxicology results won’t be back until
tomorrow morning at the earliest.”
“Any guesses?”
A pause. “Well, if I was a gambling man, I’d say it was the same
toxin that killed Carl Evans.”
~
Troy fired up the Rover’s engine and pulled carefully away from the
curb, narrowly avoiding a woman crossing the road with three poodles.
“You would have done them a favour,” Tom groused, noticing the bows on
the dogs’ tails and the slightly pink tint to their coats. Then
he brightened up. “You did good, Troy,”
“What? By managing not to hit them?”
“No! Snake venom! George reckons that’s what killed both
our victims.”
Troy smiled, pleased with himself. “I’m not sure what to make of
Marla, Sir.”
“What did she have to say about Carl?”
“Not a lot. She has no idea why he was at the lab that night, why
he was even at the college so late and what he could have been
doing. The last time she saw him was in class on Friday
afternoon.”
Nodding, Tom let his attention wander for a minute while Troy drove
them towards Causton Mortuary.
“Were you happy at school, Gavin?”
His sergeant shrugged. “Not really. I mean… I didn’t have a
hard time or anything. I was too tall for bullies and my dad
always taught me to stand up for myself.” There was a touch of
bitterness in the words. “But I was never happy there, left as
soon as I could.”
“So why did you become a copper?” Tom made sure his tone was
personal interest rather than professional interrogation.
Gavin glanced at him. “I’ve never told anyone.”
Tom’s eyes widened in surprise. “Don’t feel you have to….”
“No, it’s… it’s okay.” He slowed to a stop at a crossroads and
signalled to turn left. “When I was eleven years old a guy broke
into our house. I woke up, heard him downstairs. Then he
came upstairs into my room.” Tom felt cold all of a sudden.
“I didn’t know but my parents had called 999. Before the guy
could touch me there was a uniformed officer dragging him away and
another one asking me if I was all right. I decided then and
there it was what I wanted to do when I grew up.”
It was the best reason Tom had ever heard. “You never know, you
might one day,” he joked softly.
But Troy frowned, offended. “Be a copper?”
Tom chuckled. “Grow up.”
The frown became a smile. “It’s unlikely.”
~
“What it is, George?”
“Ah! Tom….”
The white-coated coroner beckoned both men over. Pulling back the
plastic sheet covering Carl Evans, he indicated the bloated wound on
the back of his hand.
“See?”
“Snakebite.”
“Or is it…?” Tom left the hand exposed and crossed to the second
body. He pulled the sheet down revealing the white face set in a
mask of pain. “Look.” He pointed with a gloved finger to a
similar mark on Kirkpatrick’s shoulder.
Tom and Troy peered at it. “Another snakebite.”
“Actually, I don’t think either of them are snakebites.”
“What?”
“Do you know what a pressure syringe is?” Tom shook his
head. “There’s no needle. The injection is delivered
through the skin under very high pressure.”
“And you’re saying… that’s how the poison was administered in both
cases?”
“I’ve confirmed that the discoloration of the skin and the bloating of
the wounds are consistent with venom from a Rattlesnake. And
there are two small wounds on his hand that are consistent with
fangs. But….” He shook his head. “I’ll get on to the
lab, hurry them up.”
“George, what aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing that will help you until I get the tox report back.”
~
Tom leaned back in his chair and stretched his neck until he heard
something crack back into place.
Five feet away, Troy winced. “You need a massage,” he told his
chief innocently.
Grinning, Tom leaned forward. “Is that an offer?”
Unsure what to say in reply, he asked, “When’s Joyce back?”
“Saturday.” Tom watched Troy carefully. He made a
decision. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“It won’t make any difference, you know.”
They sat in Tom’s back garden, out on the picnic table. The
smouldering embers of a barbecue were still hot enough to cook in and a
couple of foil-wrapped, chocolate-filled bananas were tucked between
the white coals.
Gavin sat with his back to Tom’s chest, his lover’s arm around him as
they supped red wine and talked quietly.
"What won't?"
"Joyce coming home."
Resting his head back against Tom's shoulder, Gavin eyed him
suspiciously. "Really?"
Tom dropped his lips into the brown hair, breathing in the aroma of
apple shampoo under the faint smell of smoke and cannabis; he briefly
considered searching Marla's student abode for drugs but decided it
would be a waste of time and energy. He kissed Gavin's head.
"Well, we might not be able to be so blatantly obvious in her presence."
Gavin laughed softly. "No."
The arm around his waist tightened slightly. "But now I've
finally got you I'm not letting go without a fight."
"I was... worried that this was... well, you know."
"I know."
"Joyce will too, won't she?"
Tom smiled to himself. "I think you're ready to take those
Inspector's Exams. She will when I tell her. And she'll
have questions, some the same as mine. Like, what does a gorgeous
young man like you see in an old fogey like me?"
Finding Tom's hand on his hip, Gavin laced their fingers. "I love
the way you look at me, the way you've always looked at me.
Frustrated affection.”
Tom sat back slightly, kissing the nape of a smooth neck, pushing
Gavin’s shirt back a little to expose his collarbone, draw his tongue
around the defined curve. “You’ve always brought out the best in
me.”
Sighing softly, ridiculously happy, Gavin tilted his head to give Tom
better access to naked flesh. He closed his eyes, feeling every
kiss, every nip, shivering as his skin was sensitised. His
arousal built slowly with Tom’s wet, teasing caresses, until he was
achingly hard, uncomfortable in his jeans.
But he enjoyed the warmth and the romance as much as he loved the sex
and he wasn’t ready to go inside just yet. “When did this
infatuation start?” he asked, hoping the cheeky tone would cause Tom to
cease his erotic exploration for just a little while.
It didn’t work.
“You mean when did I stop…” a kiss to the curve where his shoulder met
his neck, “… seeing you as an annoying young brat and started…” another
shirt button was unfastened, “…realising how incredibly sexy you are?”
Tom pushed the material further off the narrow, slim shoulder,
following his fingertips with his mouth.
Gavin groaned. “Something like that.”
Tom lifted his head for a few seconds then returned to his
ministrations, speaking against warm skin.
“The day of Orvil’s chariot race. Joyce had planned on us going
to Blenheim Palace. I should have gone home when I decided to let
it go ahead but I looked at you and I just wanted to spend the day with
you.”
He unfastened another button, sliding his hand up under Gavin’s white
T-shirt, over his flat belly.
“I couldn’t take my eyes off you. And you looked so happy, so
relaxed. With me. I think I fell in love with you.”
Gavin thought back. “How long ago was that?!”
Tom shrugged. “Years.”
“I was too young.”
“You were my sergeant.”
Troy sank back into the twin touches. “I still am.”
“You’re my equal, Gavin. You’ll soon be an Inspector.”
“I might not pass.”
“You’ll pass.”
Tom’s faith in him amazed him.
“I’ll owe it to you.”
He felt Tom’s smile against his shoulder. “Um, there’s a
thought. Having you in my debt….”
Gavin smiled, turned his head and met Tom’s grinning mouth, sliding his
tongue between welcoming lips.
Tom unfastened the rest of the buttons, continuing down to Gavin’s
jeans, slipping the button through then unzipping the fly.
“Tom….”
“Do you want to go inside?” His voice was low, rough, pitched
just right. “Or stay out here?”
~
Tuesday 5th - present day
They stood next to Troy’s bed, Tom’s fingers curled gently around his
lover’s hand. A couple more minutes, he told himself, then he’d
let George drive him home. He’d promised his friend that he would
at least eat something and try to get some sleep.
“That night,” Tom murmured continuing his recanting of his as-yet brief
affair with his sergeant, “we made love in the garden, on the picnic
table.” George chuckled softly. “I didn’t know I still had
it in me.”
“You’re only ever as old as…”
“…the person you feel.” He smiled for a moment before it
faded. “He’s twenty-nine. He has his whole life in front of
him.”
“He’s going to be fine, Tom.”
“If he dies….”
“He isn’t going to die.”
But suddenly the machines around Gavin screamed their disagreement.
~
Monday 4th – the previous day
Tom picked up the Manila folder from his desk with one hand and had a
brief moment of re-prioritisation with his coffee.
It was the report from the door to door investigations the previous
night. Half way down the second page Tom lost interest in his
coffee.
Tony Kirkpatrick had a visitor the evening of his death. His
daughter. Marla.
Troy drove them to the college.
“Remember what she said to you when you asked her if she and her father
were on speaking terms? She said, ‘he was my father’. Not
‘he is’. You know, usually anyone related to someone who has died
unexpectedly will still use the present tense when talking about them,
possibly for days, weeks or months after their death.”
But Troy wasn't convinced. "You don't she could have murdered her
own father, do you?"
Tom turned to him, pausing before asking gently, "Why do you always
have problems believing that, in particular? After all you've
seen?"
He hesitated. "Because as many times as I imagined killing my
Dad, I could never have done it."
Processing this information but deciding that this was neither the time
nor the place, Tom took the conversation in the second of two possible
directions. "Do you think you could kill?"
"I doubt it, unless I was really pushed or someone I loved was being
threatened."
"I think everyone's capable under the right circumstances." He
glanced out of the window. "Or maybe that should be 'wrong
circumstances'."
His mobile chirped in his pocket and he pulled it out, glancing at the
screen before answering the call.
"George! What have you got for me? .... A what? .... Which
means...? .... Right. I'm not sure what it means, but
thanks."
Troy glanced at him as he dropped his phone back into his pocket.
"Apparently there are two substances in the poison that killed both
Carl Evans and Tony Kirkpatrick. Snake venom from a Rattlesnake
and Seratim."
"Seratim?"
"Yeah, apparently it's a chemical used as a delivery mechanism in the
blood stream." Deciding that he knew what all the words meant,
just not in that particular order, Troy didn't think he was qualified
to comment. "Want to know what I think?"
Yes, he definitely did.
"I think Marla and Carl mixed this stuff up in the lab and Marla
decided she wanted to run a human trial before using it to kill her
father."
"But why?"
"I don't know. Maybe it's as simple as she just didn't like
him. Or maybe he wasn't a nice man. We won't know until we
ask her – maybe we'll never know." He could see that his answer
was sitting uncomfortably with his sergeant and made a mental note to
find out more about Gavin's childhood.
~
They found Redpath in his office, a small glass partition just down the
corridor from the lab where Carl Evans had been found dead.
"Mr Redpath?"
He looked up from his computer screen and smiled. "DCI...
Barnaby, wasn't it?"
"Yes, Sir. Could I have a word?"
"Of course." He removed his glasses and stood. "Could you
tell us if Marla Kirkpatrick is around?"
"She's in the lab."
"Troy." Tom indicated that his sergeant should do the honours and
Troy wandered off along the corridor. Stepping into the office,
he asked, "Could you tell me what Carl Evans was working on?"
“We’re not Cambridge University, Chief Inspector, we’re a
college. The student are doing A-Levels not writing their thesis.”
Barnaby smiled. “Sorry. What do they do in the lab?”
“Experiments. We are very lucky to have a famous old boy, we have
some of the most well-equipped and modern college chemistry labs in the
country. The students are able to ‘play’ with more advanced
technology and more modern methods.”
“And the snakes?”
“A small groups of students, including Carl, have been working with
anti-venom.”
“What about Marla Kirkpatrick?”
“She’s a part of the group.”
“How well do you know Marla, Mr Redpath?”
He was immediately on the defensive. “Now look, if you’re
suggesting….”
Tom waved his hand and shook his head. “No, no. We found
her father dead in his home yesterday. When we told her she
didn’t seem very upset.”
“People react differently, I suppose. She’s not a very… emotional
girl. She always seems very… ‘with it’.” Redpath
shrugged. “I don’t really understand young people these
days. I thought I did but recently I’ve realised….”
The sudden crash came from a room close by. Tom stepped back and
glanced along the corridor.
“Troy?”
He turned and ran, hearing Redpath behind him, rounding the doorway
into the lab where they’d found Carl.
“Oh, God…. Troy!”
He dropped into a crouch next to where his sergeant had fallen.
Marla was standing close to the other door, watching… watching Gavin
die.
Redpath brushed passed Tom, taking in Marla, taking in Troy.
“It’s Rattlesnake venom!” Tom yelled. “She’s injected him with
Rattlesnake venom.”
Marla laughed once and ran, pushing Redpath out of the way in her bid
for freedom.
Troy’s eyes were wide open, as was his mouth. He was gasping for
air, head tipped back on the floor, every agonised breath sounding as
if it would tear out his lungs.
For a moment Tom couldn’t move, then he quickly unfastened the red tie
around Troy’s neck, opening the collar as he fought for breath.
“Anti-venom!” It was Redpath, stepping over Troy to yank open the
door of a tall fridge. “Get him on the table.”
Looking up, Tom saw the metal workbench in the centre of the room and
stood, sweeping his arm across its surface, knocking papers and racks
of empty test tubes to the floor.
“All right, Gavin, it’s okay.”
Sliding one arm under his sergeant’s shoulders, the other around his
waist, Tom swept him up with a strength he didn’t know he possessed and
dumped him on the cold metal surface.
Troy’s head lolled back off the top edge until Tom shifted him down,
tilting his head back, clearing his airway as best he could. It
was painful to hear every intake of breath, but it was worse when they
stopped.
“Gavin! Don’t you dare!”
Redpath was filling a syringe from a small glass vial. “You’ll
have to breathe for him, the poison will have paralysed his respiratory
system.” Dropping the bottle, he pushed the plunger up until a
droplet appeared at he tip of the needle.
Tom took a deep breath himself, pinching Gavin’s nose and grasping his
chin. Covering the open mouth with his own he breathed out.
Glancing up, he started to count, lips moving with the words in his
head, forcing himself to stay calm.
‘One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand….’
Redpath was looking across to left Troy’s shoulder at the same time he
was pushing up the right sleeve and finding a vein in the crease of his
elbow.
“Get his arm off the table,” he commanded.
Tom breathed into Troy’s mouth and lifted his head again, re-starting
the count. “What?”
‘One one-thousand.’
Redpath leaned across and pushed Troy’s other arm off the table.
Tom stepped back as it dropped and hung. “Why?”
‘Two one-thousand.’
“The wound – we have to keep it below the level of his heart.”
‘Three one-thousand.’
Carefully, Redpath inserted the fine needle into Gavin’s vein, pressing
on the plunger. Meanwhile, Tom looked closer and saw the tear in
Gavin’s shirt at his shoulder, the spots of blood on the white
shirt.
‘Four one-thousand.’
He leant on Troy’s shoulder with his elbow, hoping he wasn’t hurting
his sergeant.
‘Five one-thousand.’
Another breath.
“Jesus! Shit!”
Redpath looked up and saw a small group of students standing in the
doorway. “Jason! Call an ambulance, NOW! Tell them we
have a snake bite victim. We’ve administered anti-venom but he’s
in trouble. GO!”
Jason dropped his books and pulled his mobile from his jeans pocket.
‘Two one-thousand.’
Something was wrong.
Pressing two fingers to Gavin’s neck, he carried on counting to ‘three
one-thousand’. “His heart’s stopped.”
‘Three one-thousand.’
Redpath ripped open Gavin’s shirt, linking his fingers and pressing the
heel of his hand at the base of his ribcage.
‘Four one-thousand. Five one-thousand.’
Tom breathed, his own heart hammering when instead of his own silent
mental count Redpath started CPR.
“Come on, Gavin. Don’t die on me. Don’t you dare die on me.”
“Breathe.”
They kept it up for minutes – hours – days – Tom had no idea. He
thought he could hear sirens and prayed the medics were close.
Redpath was about to start compression again when he hesitated.
“What?”
“That’s it.”
Tom pressed his fingers to Gavin’s throat and felt a weak pulse.
“Thank God. Come on, Gavin. Come on.”
He waited, but on ‘six one-thousand’ he breathed once again for his
sergeant and started his silent count again.
‘One one-thousand, two one-thousand’
Someone grabbed his shoulders and tried to pull him away from
Gavin.
‘Three one-thousand.’
Tom struggled against the hands holding him back.
‘Four one-thousand.’
“Let me go!”
‘Five one-thousand.’
“No!”
“It’s all right, Sir. We’ve got him.”
Tom blinked as a uniformed ambulance man placed a mask over Troy’s
mouth and squeezed the attached bag once. A second medic was
standing just behind him and a third was speaking to Redpath.
“We’ll take it from here, Sir,” the man at his shoulder told him.
“Let’s get a heart monitor on him and set up an IV. Get a
pressure bandage on the wound. Anti-venom’s been administered,
right?” Redpath confirmed that it had.
Once all the necessary precautions had been made, the head ambulance
man said ordered, “Okay. Let’s move him onto the trolley.”
As one, the three medical officers lifted Troy’s inert body onto the
gurney. The ambulance man at the oxygen mask kept up the air
supply and the heart monitor quickly started to report back a weak but
constant beat.
With Troy as stable as they were going to get him they started to move
him from the lab out to the ambulance.
Half way down the corridor he choked once.
“Oxygen up!”
The bag was replaced by an oxygen mask as Troy once again began to
breathe on his own.
Tom walked with the small entourage, Redpath a couple of steps behind
him. He didn’t take his eyes from Gavin’s face, couldn’t believe
this was happening.
As they walked, Tom pulled out his mobile and made a phone call,
requesting a full-scale search for Marla Kirkpatrick and a DI to be
sent out to the college to take over from him. He was going with
his sergeant to the hospital.
~
Tuesday 5th – present day
Tom paced the corridor, waiting. George sat on one of the chairs
sipping his cold coffee.
“This keeps happening.”
George looked up. “What does?”
“His heart… like it keeps just giving up.”
“The second substance, the delivery mechanism in the poison, might have
taken the venom straight to his heart.”
“But Redpath gave him a shot of the anti-venom. And they’ve been
keeping it up here.”
“Into his vein, presumably? Into the IV?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps the poison’s in the muscle itself, in his heart.”
Tom stared at him for a moment. “Tell them.”
“Tom….”
“Please, George. I can’t lose him.”
It was half an hour before George returned and when he did, he was
smiling. He took Tom’s arm.
“Come with me.”
Troy looked as if he’d run a marathon. He was pale and sweating,
his hair dump with it. But his eyes were open and they followed
Tom into the room.
“Gavin.” Tom approached the bed, mindful that the doctor was
still supervising the nurses as more readings and samples were taken.
He glanced up and saw Tom.
“DCI Barnaby, isn’t it?” Tom nodded. “He’s not to be rushed
or stressed in any way. The injection into his heart was a severe
shock to his system. But… it seems to have done the trick.
You’ve thirty seconds before we kick you out so that he can be made
comfortable.”
Squeezing Gavin’s fingers gently, Tom met the blurred, pained
gaze. “I’ll be back in a little while. They’ll take care of
you.” The oxygen mask still in place, Troy couldn’t speak.
But Tom was sure he was smiling. He leaned down. “I… I love
you.”
He felt Gavin’s fingers tighten around his own and smiled in return.
~
Saturday 9th – four days later
“Tom?” Joyce closed the front door of the house and dumped her
suitcase in the hallway. “Tom?”
His car was in the driveway but that didn’t mean anything. If
they were out on a case Troy would probably have picked him up that
morning.
The heating was off and she was sure that her husband was out
working. The house didn’t look as if he’d spent any time in it
over the last couple of days.
She stepped into the kitchen and filled the kettle, seeing the two
dirty wineglasses on the side next to the sink. She stared at
them for a second, moving closer. Two glasses, one empty
bottle. Neither of the glasses had lipstick anywhere around the
rims (a copper’s wife indeed) and she knew Gavin had been here one
evening at least.
The other woman she thought to herself and smiled.
The film ended and Joyce glanced at the clock. Ten passed
midnight.
It was late, even for Tom working on a case. She called his
mobile and found it switched off. So she called Troy’s and found
herself diverted once again to an answer service.
She was considering calling the station when she heard Tom’s key in the
lock.
He smiled when he saw her and closing the front door he swept her into
a tight hug.
Chuckling, she returned the embrace. “I’ve missed you too!”
Releasing her, he stepped back. “How’s your Mum?”
“She’s fine, Love.” Now she looked at him, she could see the
exhaustion in his eyes. “But you don’t look well, Tom. Is
everything all right?”
He shook his head. “I need a drink.”
Joyce watched him pour himself a whiskey and drop into one corner of
the sofa. She sat down with him. “Tom?”
“This week we had two deaths, a student and an older man. Tuesday
morning… the girl who murdered them… tried to murder Gavin. He’s
in the Poison Unit at Kings Hospital in Oxford.”
It took a moment for Joyce to take in what her husband was telling
her. “Poison Unit?”
“She injected him with snake venom.”
“Oh, God… Tom….”
“He’s had a rough couple of days but they’re hoping to move him from
the HDU in the morning.”
“He’s all right?”
“He will be.”
“And what about you?”
He looked at her and knew she could see the haunted bleakness in his
eyes, the shadows in his face. He swallowed a mouthful of whiskey
and closed his eyes.
Joyce knew he wasn’t going to answer her and she didn’t really need him
to.
“You need some sleep, Tom.”
“I’ve been staying at the hospital. I knew you were coming home
tonight…. I’m sorry, I should have been here earlier.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t have to go through this alone,
Tom. Why didn’t you call?”
“Oh, Joyce… what could you have done?”
“I could have been here for you.”
He reached across the cushions and took hold of her hand. “George
has been visiting regularly. The… stuff that she injected him
with… it did more damage than a simple snakebite would have done.
George has developed a professional interest in it.”
“And what about this girl?”
“Graham Folly – Inspector Folly – found her at Causton Railway Station
the same afternoon. She’s been charged but she won’t stand
trial. We’ve already had two doctors tell us that she’s mentally
unstable.”
Joyce stayed quiet for a while, giving Tom chance to say whatever else
he wanted. But he didn’t speak and eventually she stood, taking
the empty glass from him.
“Bed, Tom.”
~
Tuesday 12th
George peered through the small square of glass in the door.
Tom was sitting up on the bed, half-leaning against the stack of
pillows against the metal headboard. Gavin was lying next to him,
his back against the pillows. His skin was still pale against the
white lightweight duvet and white medical gown. An IV was still
taped into the back of his hand, saline drip still present.
They were keeping him well hydrated, testing urine and blood samples
every six hours, taking temperature readings every three.
While he’d still been in the High Dependency Unit they’d cut into the
small, discoloured wound left by the pressure syringe Marla had used
and taken tissue samples.
There was a dressing over the site now. The doctors were sure it
would heal normally given time and were equally convinced Gavin would
make a full recovery despite the dangers that still remained.
Renal failure and serum sickness were potential reactions but currently
there were no signs of Gavin developing either.
George watched for a minute or so as Gavin, obviously comfortable and
safe in Tom’s close presence, opened the stack of cards sent by CID, by
his friends and family. The small room was bright with flowers
and one or two cuddly toys.
Knocking lightly on the door he went inside.
“I bring home-made cookies and Starbucks coffee.” Gavin’s eyes
lit up as did Tom’s; the coffee was for him.
Pulling up a chair, he couldn’t help but be touched by the two of
them. Gavin had been severely weakened by the poison, traces of
which were still present in his system and would be for some time to
come. Not used to relying on anyone for anything, he could barely
lift a glass to his lips. Tom’s easy help was freely given and
gladly accepted.
He managed a cookie though, not that George was surprised having seen
the hospital food.
“Could you translate for us?” Tom indicated the foot of the bed
and George reached for Gavin’s chart.
He read it through, interpreting figures and lines on graphs while Tom
carefully sipped at his coffee. By the time he looked up Gavin
was resting with his head against Tom’s shoulder, his eyes closed.
He spoke quietly. “He’s doing well. His temperature’s been
spiking on and off - they won’t release him until that stops - but
apart from that his blood contains minimal traces of the venom and his
urine’s normal.”
Tom nodded, glancing down when Gavin’s hand found his in the light
sleep. “They’ve said it could be up to six months before he’s
free of the poison. Does that sound usual?”
“There’s no usual here, Tom. The chemical used in the delivery
mechanism has bound itself to his artery walls. They’ll let him
go back to work before that, won’t they?”
“A couple of weeks, they’ve guessed. Light deskwork only at the
beginning. He’ll hate that but it’ll give him a chance to revise
for his exams.”
“No stressing him, Tom.” But he only had to look at Tom with his
sergeant to know that neither he nor the doctors had anything to worry
about.
“Honestly, George, the difficult part is going to be yelling at him the
next time he screws up.”
George rolled his eyes. “You’ve never yelled at him.
Sarcasm is your favoured method of discipline, isn’t it?” Tom
ignored him. He put the clipboard back and stood. “Is there
anything you need?”
“Some help with explaining all this to Joyce?”
“You’re going to tell her?”
“You think she wouldn’t suspect something if she walked through that
door?”
“Obviously you know she won’t.”
“She’s working. So is Cully.”
“Sorry, Tom. You’re on your own with that one.”
Tom nodded. “Thought so.”
~
Gavin turned in his sleep as Tom carefully climbed off the bed and
tucked the duvet around his sergeant. Leaning down he moved a
lock of hair from Gavin’s forehead, pressing his fingers to the hot
skin. His temperature was spiking again.
The nurse had just left to get a cold compress and they wanted to take
another blood sample.
This wasn’t anything to worry about, one of Gavin’s two doctors had
promised them. They were dealing somewhat with the unknown but he
was in good hands.
When she returned she showed Tom how to use the compress to help bring
his temperature down.
Gavin didn’t wake when the blood was taken from the second IV port
slightly higher up his left arm.
An old school friend – Jason Matthews - had visited, keeping him
company while he picked at the hospital food supposed to be his
dinner. Eventually, Jason had bought him a plate of chips from
the canteen. He’d apparently been eternally grateful. But
now he was exhausted and even a rapidly rising temperature hadn’t kept
him awake.
It was gone eleven when they finally got it under control. By
then one of the doctors was with them, looking at the results of the
blood test they’d had fast-tracked through the lab.
“There’re a few things we could try,” he told Tom as they waited
outside the room for the nurses to change the bedding. “But to by
truthful I’m loath to load him up with any more drugs. Other than
this, he’s doing very well so I’d like to ride it out if he can.”
Gavin had requested that his parents not be called and that Tom be
treated as power of attorney as far as his medical condition was
concerned. It had piqued Tom’s interest further in Gavin’s
relationship with his father in particular, but he was in no state to
explain at the moment.
“Is this – these changes in his temperature – is it causing any damage
to him?”
“No. As you know we’re checking blood and urine regularly, we’ll
know if anything starts to go wrong.”
The nurses came out of Gavin’s room and Tom and the doctor went back
in. Their ward was still sleeping, apparently not having moved
despite the sheets underneath him, the gown he was wearing and the
duvet he was wrapped in all having just been changed.
“When I can I take him home?” Tom asked quietly.
The doctor smiled kindly. “Let us stabilise him first. For
now he’s in the best place just in case anything does happen.
When his temperature has remained steady for forty-eight hours we’ll
look at releasing him. But only if there’s someone to take care
of him, if he isn’t going back to an empty house.” He glanced at
his watch. “Speaking of which, you should get some sleep
too. At least pull up a chair next to his bed and close your eyes
for a couple of hours.”
Tom took the advice.
~
Wednesday 13th
“It was my fault.”
Gavin sighed. “The only person to blame is Marla. She was
the one who attacked me.”
Tom stroked the fingers he was holding. “I shouldn’t have sent
you to speak to her alone.”
“You saved my life.”
“Not just me.”
Redpath had been in with a card and a bunch of grapes. He didn’t
get out much he’d said by way of an apology, but he’d had to know if
the sergeant was all right. There was something else too, a
dinner date which Gavin had politely turned down before either of them
had realised it was meant for Tom.
“Please stop blaming yourself.” Gavin turned his fingers,
threading them between Tom’s. “I don’t want this between
us.” Tom stared at him, drowning slowly in the big blue gaze
until he looked away. “Sorry.”
“Don’t. Don’t apologise.”
“I didn’t… this has spoilt it, has it?”
“Don’t be daft. You haven’t spoilt anything.” Reaching out
with his free hand, he stroked over the auburn hair. “I’ll prove
that when I get you home.”
The lady in reception looked up as a spray of brightly coloured flowers
pushed its way through the sliding doors, closely followed by a young
lady.
"Can I help you?" she asked with a smile.
"Yes." The young woman smiled in return. "I'm looking for
Gavin Troy?"
"Are you family?"
"Not exactly. A friend."
"Room 7. His partner's with him at the moment but I don't think
they'll mind you going on in."
Cully walked slowly along the corridor of the new unit.
'Partner'? She wasn't aware Gavin even had dates never mind a
girlfriend. She felt vaguely jealous, having always carried a
flame for him she'd wanted to come as soon as she could, to make a fuss
of him and deliver some much-needed TLC.
But it seemed that the position was already taken.
When she came to room seven she peered in through the small glass panel
in the door. And smiled with an odd sort of relief. Her Dad
was sitting on the side of the bed and he and Gavin were walking
quietly. So that's what the nurse had meant by 'partner',
although she'd never heard him refer to Gavin as anything but 'Troy' or
'my sergeant'.
Carefully balancing the flowers, she knocked on the door.
Tom and Gavin glanced across at the same time. Their joined hands
were hidden from the visitor's site by Gavin's raised leg, bent at the
knee and although they were loath to let one another go Gavin was the
first to move his hands, waving for Cully to come in.
~
Friday 15th
Tom pulled the curtains closed against the rainy night and turned,
leaning against the sill for just a moment.
Lying on his back on the bed, Gavin was still dressed from the day's
exertions; a short walk to the pharmacy to pick up the tablets they
were sending him home with in the morning.
Comfortable in loose, dark blue jogging pants and a warm, dark blue
shirt, he was grinning despite his exhaustion, beckoning Tom back to
him with one dancing finger.
Carefully, Tom squeezed himself onto the edge of the bed, propped
himself up on one elbow and tangled his socked feet with Gavin's bare
ones.
"How did you persuade them to release me?"
"I told them I was going to be staying with you for a few days."
Gavin's eyes widened. "Really?"
"Really. Joyce said you were welcome to stay with us but..." he
found Gavin's hand and touched his lips to each finger in turn, "I'm
not sure I could have you so close at the moment and not touch."
"Do you think this will ever get any easier?"
Tom smiled. "Yes. And when it does, I think you'll walk
away." Gavin opened his mouth to speak and was kissed
gently. "Ssh. It doesn't matter right now."
Gavin reluctantly let it go. Truth be told, he was too tired for
that conversation at the moment. One of his two doctors had
explained at great length what exactly had happened to him, the effects
that the poison had had on his body and what he could expect over the
next couple of weeks.
He was sick of being poked and prodded. Now the IV ports were
gone and he was going home, under strict instructions to drink several
gallons of water a day, not to touch alcohol for at least two months
and to get lots and lots of rest. Even better, Tom was going to
be staying with him for a couple of days. He was suddenly glad he
didn't have a spare room in his tiny house.
Settling Tom's hand on his chest, Gavin closed his eyes. He could
feel Tom's warmth along his side and the brush of lips in his
hair. "Stay," he murmured.
"I can't." Tom's voice was quiet too. "I'll end up with a
crick in my neck. This bed really isn't big enough for both of us."
Gavin held Tom's hand tighter and let his disappointment get swept away
by sleep.
When he next opened his eyes he could see the morning sunshine
filtering brightly through the thin curtains. And he could feel
Tom's even breaths in his hair, hear the quiet snores as he slept.
He smiled to himself. "Big enough," he whispered happily and
dozed until the nurse came in to throw them both out.
~
two months later
Gavin looked up as the mug of tea appeared on his desk and warm fingers
ghosted over his own.
“Tea.”
He smiled. “Thanks. That’s supposed to be my job.”
“Not anymore, Inspector.” Tom perched on the edge of the
desk. “How’s it coming?”
“I think I’m making progress. I have a name.”
“It’s an improvement.”
“You mean yesterday I only had half a name.” Gavin nodded.
“Yeah.”
A knock on the open door made Tom look up. Their duty officer was
peering inside.
“Chief Inspector, you have a visitor.” Said with a raising of the
eyebrow.
“Thanks.” The other man vanished again and for a moment Tom
returned his attention to Gavin. “My new sergeant.”
Gavin nodded, not quite able to meet the other man’s steady gaze.
“Don’t be as hard on him as you were on me.”
“I was so easy on you.” He risked another touch to his lover’s
fingers. “Dinner, tonight?”
Raising his head, Gavin grinned. “You’re on. Now don’t keep
the poor man waiting.”
fin
elfin
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