Human Remains

another two to add to the list.
    I printed all the documents off and a basic version of the spreadsheet, gathered everything together and was just about to head out of the door again when the phone rang.
    I looked at it, as though trying to work out from sight whether it was likely to be important or not.
    Then I almost wished I hadn’t answered it, because it turned out to be him. The journalist.
    ‘Is that Annabel? It’s Sam Everett.’
    ‘Hello.’
    ‘How’s your mum doing?’
    ‘Alright, thanks,’ I said. ‘The same.’
    ‘I didn’t think you’d be at work, to be honest.’
    ‘Well, I’ve only popped in. I’m going back to the hospital in a minute.’
    He hesitated for a moment, as though he’d been expecting me to say more. But what else was there to say? I wasn’t about to go into detail discussing my mother’s medical condition with a relative stranger.
    ‘I wondered if you had any more news – about the investigation ?’
    ‘What investigation?’
    He sighed, and at last resorted to sarcasm. ‘You know, the one with all the bodies? The one where I got a weird phone call from a woman who knew where the next one was waiting for your lot?’
    ‘There’s no need for that,’ I said, shuddering.
    ‘Sorry. Look, I did my bit last night – I rang the police as soon as I knew I wouldn’t be wasting anyone’s time. Any chance you can give me a bit of news?’
    ‘Like what? I don’t know what it is you need,’ I said.
    ‘What about the woman who called me? Have you traced her?’
    ‘Yes,’ I said.
    ‘And?’
    ‘And what? She’s dead.’
    ‘Dead?’
    ‘Apparently she’d been dead less than twenty-four hours when they found her today. Same as the others, just not decomposed.’
    Silence from the other end of the phone. I shouldn’t have said that, I thought; I was going to get into trouble now – and the investigation was barely a few hours old.
    ‘Can you tell me who she is?’ he asked.
    ‘I don’t know that yet,’ I said. ‘I don’t know anything, really – I’ve only been in the office for about half an hour. And I’m really not supposed to talk to you about this. I know people who’ve been sacked for giving away details of an investigation.’
    ‘Annabel, I’m not trying to put you in an awkward position. I’m sure I can find out her name from one of my other contacts. It’s just that you’re the first person who really gets what I’m trying to do with this story. I don’t want you to give anything away, I just think we could help each other out. There’s nobody else I can discuss this with who really cares about it. Could I meet up with you later, perhaps?’
    ‘I need to go back to the hospital,’ I said.
    ‘Yes, of course,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’
    I realised I was being inexcusably mean towards him for no good reason other than that I felt he was putting undue pressure on me to give him information.
    ‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘Look, if I find anything out that I think might be useful, I’ll give you a call. Alright?’
    ‘Oh, yes!’ he said, his enthusiasm reappearing. ‘That would be great. Thank you, Annabel. I really appreciate it.’
    When I’d put the phone down a moment later I gathered up all the paperwork again and headed upstairs to the MIR.
     
     
    The hospital rang me on my mobile at a quarter to seven. I’d been so busy, my head a tangle of thoughts and proposals and considerations and recommendations, ideas to try and unravel the tangle of people and their lives, that when the phone rang and the woman on the end said the word ‘hospital’ I realised I hadn’t thought of it since the call with Sam Everett earlier.
    ‘Hello,’ I said, expecting them to be giving me a list of things mother needed – a nightie? Pants, socks?
    ‘Is that Annabel Hayer?’
    ‘Yes, it is.’
    ‘Miss Hayer, I’m so sorry to be contacting you with some bad news. Your mother passed away about ten minutes ago. I’m so very sorry.’
    ‘Oh, God.’ I sat still on the chair, mouth open and gaping with shock. I hadn’t been there. I should have been there. ‘Thank you,’ I said, at last, as though she’d phoned up to offer me a voucher for some double glazing. ‘Do I need to do anything?’
    ‘You should come in, when you can,’ the woman said. Was she a nurse? Had she told me? I couldn’t remember how the conversation had started. Had she rung me, or had I called her? ‘You might want to bring someone with you, so you’re not on