THE HOUSE AT SEA’S END

tell-tale signs of heightened colour or shortened breath. He had been calm and measured, even intimidating.
If I had, I wouldn’t tell you. We took a blood oath, you see.
    But only a few hours after saying those words Archie was dead. He died in his sleep, apparently of a massive stroke. That can happen at any age, Nelson knows, but nevertheless the sequence of events troubles him. That is why he is on his way to the Home, despite Whitcliffe’s thinly veiled discouragement. ‘Might be more respectful to wait a few days.’ Well, Nelson will be respectful, but he knows from experience the value of getting immediate statements. He wants to speak to the last people who saw Archie Whitcliffe alive.
    He would have preferred to take Judy rather than Clough but Judy, much to his disgust, has the day off. ‘It was booked ages ago,’ says Nelson’s PA, Leah. ‘I think she’s having a wedding dress fitting.’ Jesus wept. The station is becoming more like an episode of
Friends
every day (he knows about
Friends
from his daughters). So, as two officers are required and it is imperative to stick to the rules, he has to take Clough and pray that he doesn’t give vent to his much-aired views on euthanasia (‘after seventy it’s kinder’).
    Clough, however, seems subdued by the surroundings, though when the last person to have seen Archie alive turns out to be an extremely pretty Filipino carer, he cheers up considerably.
    The carer is called Maria and her eyes are red from crying. Nelson doesn’t know why but he is relieved to see this evidence of human emotion. The owner of the Home, a formidable woman called Dorothy, said all the right things earlier but he had got the impression that Archie’s death was primarily an inconvenience to be dealt with as speedily and efficiently as possible. She hadn’t been too pleased to see two policemen littering up her entrance hall, either.
    ‘Everything’s quite above board,’ she said. ‘The doctor’s signed the certificate.’
    ‘There’s no suggestion of foul play,’ said Nelson in his policeman voice. ‘But Mr Whitcliffe was an important witness in another enquiry. I need to know if he said anything before he died.’
    ‘I’ll get Maria. She did Archie’s bed call. She was the last person to see him before he passed away.’ She gave the impression that it had been in bad taste for Nelson to use the ‘d’ word.
    The bed call turns out to involve helping Archie get into bed. ‘Sometimes people need help with toilet,’ explains Maria. ‘But not Archie. He did everything by himself.’
    ‘In good shape, was he?’ asks Nelson. ‘For a man his age?’
    ‘He was one of our fittest clients.’ Maria’s eyes brim with tears. ‘That’s what makes it so sad.’
    Clough pats her arm sympathetically. Nelson gives him a look.
    ‘Miss – er – Maria,’ he says. ‘If it doesn’t distress you too much, I’d like you to go over everything that happened with Archie yesterday. Don’t leave anything out, even if you think it’s not important. I want to get a complete picture.’
    Maria dabs her eyes with a tissue. ‘I see him in the morning, just a check call. He is reading.’
    ‘Reading? A book?’
    ‘No. I think it was a letter.’
    ‘Did you have any visitors that day? Apart from DS Johnson and myself.’
    ‘I don’t think so. I can check the book.’
    ‘Did he have regular visitors?’
    ‘His grandchildren come sometimes with their families. Some very sweet little children. They like playing in the garden, feeding the fish. There’s a friend who comes too, an old lady.’
    ‘Did you ever see the grandson who’s in the police?’
    ‘No.’
    So much for Whitcliffe’s claim that he visits all the time.
    ‘So, yesterday, you saw Archie in the morning. What time approximately?’
    ‘About eleven.’
    ‘When did you see him next?’
    ‘Not until the bed call. I have some hours off so I can pick up my little boy from school.’
    ‘What time was the bed call?’
    ‘Nine.’
    ‘Bit early for bed isn’t it?’ says Clough.
    ‘We have so many clients,’ says Maria. ‘We have to start early. Archie was one of the latest because he likes to watch
Panorama
.’
    ‘Please go on,’ says Nelson, shooting Clough another look.
    ‘I go in. He is in his pyjamas watching telly. I put his teeth in a glass. Tidy away his clothes, turn down bed.’
    ‘How did he seem?’ asks Nelson. ‘In good spirits?’
    Maria pauses for what seems like a long time.