The Prodigal Son Read online

  fell over and broke his neck when he landed. Dear me, isn’t that a pity?” Rob glared at the young police constable. “There, you’ve got my statement; case closed. I’d like to see my fiancé now please.”

  “Not going to happen. You’re seeing no one till I say it’s okay.”

  Rob glowered. “You’re getting your ambitions mixed up with your capabilities. Careful you don’t fall over and break your neck while you’re biting off more than you can chew.”

  “Are you threatening me, sir?”

  “Me, threaten a police officer, never,” Rob replied flatly. “Just issuing a health warning—in your best interests, of course”

  “One more remark like that and I’ll charge you with a breach of the peace, as well as the murder of Harry Goodchild,” PC Smith bristled.

  “I like that, ‘getting your ambitions mixed up with your capabilities’, yeah. I might well use it sometime,” a deep, raspy voice said from the back of the room.

  All eyes turned.

  A burly middle aged man held out a Metropolitan Police warrant card as he stepped forward. “DCI Mark Green, Serious and Organised Crime Command. I’ve just been outside, listening to the scenario Mr MacLaine has described. I’ve also spoken with Miss Fellows, who asks kindly after you Mr MacLaine.” He gazed from one face to the next before staring at PC Farthing. “I’m satisfied that the sad, and untimely death of Mr Harry Goodchild appears to have been the result of an unfortunate fall. As I seriously out rank you PC Supercilious Twat, I think we can dispense with your investigative skills. So why don’t you disappear before I decide to have you stuck out on the streets as of tomorrow morning, wearing a pointy hat and helping old ladies across the road? And if I ever hear you talking to a witness in that manner again, I’ll have you do it on the M25. Do I make myself clear?”

  Yes sir. Thank you, sir,” the police constable stuttered and hastily retreated.

  “Sorry about Constable Farthing,” Green said apologetically. “I just spoke to his sergeant down the corridor, who was speaking to Miss Fellows. He says the chap is straight out of university, full of his own importance, and sees himself as fast-track material. God forbid. The lads down the local nick call him Penny, ‘cause they’re forever telling him to get on his bike.”

  They all laughed, except Rob who grimaced in pain when he tried.

  The doctor stepped back into the room. “A colleague just informed me that Miss Fellows scan was clear, as we’d expected. I’ll get her to you for a little while, but you need rest, Mr MacLaine.”

  DCI Green stepped before Joe. “You must be Joe Harper. You spoke to Tony Urquhart earlier. He explained the circumstances and was keen to clear up things.” They shook hands and he ambled to Rob’s side. “I heard what Justine Fellows told our sergeant and what was told to Farthing, and I’m satisfied that all actions taken were well justified. There’ll be a report to the judiciary, but beyond that, all should be fine. This won’t even go to court, no worries there. I’ll head off and report back to Tony, and leave you to rest.”

  Green shook hands very gingerly with Rob, then made for the door. He almost collided with a porter transporting Justine in a wheelchair, followed by an older man and woman, obviously her parents. Obvious because Rob had just seen a vision of what Justine would look like in later life: tall, slim, elegant, and still possessing beauty. Her father was also tall and slim, with a full head of wavy snow-white hair and a goatee, both contrasting his tanned face. The man was walking with the aid of a handsome, silver-tipped stick.

  Justine looked pale and her right eye was swollen and bruised, as was her bottom lip. She had a butterfly stitch over the right eye.

  Justine cried when she saw him. “Oh God, what has he done to you?” She took hold of his hand. “They wouldn’t let me see you earlier; they said your condition was serious and that you were still unconscious. I imagined all sorts of things. I even thought I might lose you at one point.”

  “You should be so lucky,” Rob replied with a wink. “He stuck a knife in my leg and I lost a lot of blood, but they refilled me and sewed me up again. They reckon I’ll be as right as rain in no time.”

  “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t wanted to go back to the flat, this would never have happened.”

  “Maybe not today, but he’d have got to you some other time, and I might not have been around to help. Harry might have killed you on another day. At least now I know you’ll be safe. He can’t harm you again and so I’ll have a sore leg for a few weeks, but it’s worth it to know you’re safe.”

  “Is it true, he’s dead?”

  “End justifies the means, remember?” he asked dully.

  “You mean …?”

  “End justifies the means.” Rob smiled wryly. “We talked about that.”

  “I understand that now, thank you.” With a sad smile, she turned. “Rob, Lizzie, this is Ingrid and Matt, my mum and dad. The hospital called them when I was admitted. Lizzie is Rob’s mother. We were flying to Scotland this morning when this happened.” She gestured Joe. “That’s Joe Harper, the Harper in Harper MacLaine.”

  Her parents acknowledged him with waves of the hand and smiles.

  Joe smiled in return. “It’s my job to keep that man safe and out of trouble. I’m pretty good at my job; you should see the state he’s come back in when I’m not around.”

  There were tears in Ingrid’s eyes as she looked at Rob. “You saved Justine’s life today. That monster would have killed her. I can’t thank you enough for what you did … and look what he did to you.” Her voice began to break. ”He will be all right soon?”

  “So the doctor said,” Rob’s mother replied. “He lost a lot of blood, but he has had transfusions and there should be no permanent damage either so, hopefully he’ll be fine, yes.”

  Justine’s father ambled to Rob’s bedside and shook his hand gently. “I can only add my thanks, although that hardly seems adequate when we’re taking about our daughter’s life. You’re a very brave young man to do what you did. Justine speaks very fondly about you and Andy Savage speaks highly of you—very highly. We must have you all out to dinner when you feel up to it.”

  The doctor reappeared at the door. “This young man needs rest now, so I suggest that we all adjourn till tomorrow.” He looked at Rob. “The more you rest, the quicker you recover. Your young lady ‘ll be down the corridor, so no midnight canoodling the two of you … plenty of time for that when you get home.”

  He turned to Justine. “Miss Fellows could be ready to go home tomorrow although, to be on the safe side, we may hang on to you for a day or two. You can help us keep this man in check,” he joked, gesturing at Rob.

  The others said their goodbyes and filed out. Justine was last to leave and she kissed Rob and stroked his hair before being wheeled back to her room.

  34

  The next morning, Rob lay awake in bed, listening to the sounds in the hospital. His leg was throbbing, despite the pain-killing drip inserted via a cannula into his wrist. During the night, the duty doctor had made regular checks of his monitors and had decided to give him another blood top-up, dripping down another tube into another cannula. Absently, he wondered whose blood it was.

  A soft tap on the open door prompted him to look over. Rob turned to see Joe pushing Justine into the room in a wheelchair. Justine’s The bruising looked darker and more pronounced than it had the previous evening, which Rob had come to expect with bruising he’d expected but, despite the inflamed eye and lip, which were still badly swollen, some of the colour was coming back to her face.

  Hi guys.” A wan Rob greeted them, the ache in his leg making it difficult for him to sound enthusiastic. He held out a hand to Justine and she took it and kissed it “How are you this morning?”

  “A bit battered and bruised, but glad to be alive, thanks to you. More to the point, how are you?”

  “Sore, but that’s to be expected. I’m going to ask if they can increase the pain relief a bit.”

  “
Listen, guys,” Joe said as he locked the brakes on the wheelchair. “I’m not going to hang about and gate-crash this lovers’ reunion. I just wanted to check that you were both okay, so that I can report back to my better half with an update on your progress.” He turned to Rob. “I also wanted to let you know that your mother and I cancelled the Achravie arrangements, and have said that you’ll get back to everyone when you’re fit and healthy. Your car’s back at the office, in a secure area of the car park.” He ambled to the door. “Your mother will be in to see you later and bring in some of your stuff for you. Andy sends his regards to you both. I feel a major need for caffeine coming on. After I grab a coffee, I’ll head to the office. Anything you need, just shout and I’ll get it. Guys, be good. I’ll catch you later”

  “Cheers … and thanks for popping in.” Rob managed a smile.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Justine called after him.

  “Happy to be of service,” he chortled and disappeared into the corridor.

  “Alone at last!”

  “What are the police saying about all this? Are they going to arrest you?” Justine asked apprehensively.

  “What for? Joe alerted an old mate of ours, who contacted a mate of his, DCI Mark Green, who turned up yesterday, He took control of the police enquiry, and determined that poor Harry broke his neck when he fell over while trying his best to cut my leg off.” He smiled dryly. “His report to the judiciary will suggest accidental death. There’ll be an autopsy because of the circumstances, but he doesn’t think it will get to court.”

  “Did he really break his neck when he fell?” Justine frowned.

  “Apparently so,” Rob replied, eyeing the ceiling.

  She scanned his face for several thoughtful seconds. “You killed him, didn’t you? You broke his neck.”

  “You may say that but, I couldn’t possibly comment.” His smile was bittersweet. “Regardless of how he met his end, the former woman-beater is dead. He won’t be harming you ever again.” Rob’s eyes hardened.

  A shiver ran down her spine. The professional Rob disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared, but she knew that he’d always be just under the surface. She was starting to understand her fiancé’s psyche and “Professional Rob” no longer frightened her. Twice that person had knowingly put his life in danger to save hers.

  “The end justifies the means, you’re right,” she smiled and squeezed his hand.

  “So … when are you off to Achravie then?”

  “Slave-driver!” Justine laughed. “Can we wait till I get rid of the wheelchair, please?”

  “I had a thought last night,” Rob said, changing the subject. “You know how we’ve got that small salmon farm and the trout loch? The estate has been selling the fish, but not really doing anything with it. It makes a small profit, but what if we added value to the fish by smoking and packaging it? We could even produce some other product, like smoked-salmon pate or smoked-trout pate. Create a brand like Achravie Smokery, or something like that. You’re the marketing guru. What do you think?”

  “I like the idea, but it’d cost a bit to set up and our budgets could be stretched. Let’s cost it up though.”

  “We might get grants. I could look into that from my sick bed—sick bed as in I’m sick of bed already,” Rob declared with a grin.

  “Better get used to it, young man,” came a deep voice from the doorway. “We need that leg to be immobile for a while. The next few days are going to be critical in the healing process,” the doctor advised sternly.

  “So it’s my leg that’s keeping me in bed?”

  “Basically, yes. If you try to stand up, you might just fall over, Mr MacLaine. And you’re still pretty weak from blood loss.”

  “Call me Rob, please.” He looked from the doctor to Justine and back again. “So there’s no reason I can’t have my laptop and mobile phone?”

  He smiled. “No Rob, there’s no reason why you can’t have either, provided you don’t overdo things. I’ve seen some of the scars you have and I dare say you seem rather blasé about the healing process.” His expression grew grim. “Trust me. This is probably the most serious wound you’ve suffered to date, and if you disrespect it in any way, you could—you will—risk tearing those internal stitches holding your leg together. Even more seriously, you’ll risk internal bleeding. Either could mean saying farewell to that leg. Do you understand?”

  Rob nodded.

  “If you do what you’re told, you’ll heal perfectly well. You might even beat me in next year’s London Marathon, if you’re as fit as you look,” the doctor said. “If a phone and a laptop will keep you on your best behaviour, so be it. You’re in a private room, so you won’t bother anyone else, which is always the main concern. I’ll leave you to it.” He left with a wave of a hand.

  “Do what he asks, will you? If not for yourself, then for me. I’d never forgive myself if you were left disabled because of something I did,” Justine pleaded and quickly held up a hand as he opened his mouth to protest. “You were rescuing me from an ex-boyfriend who might have killed me. If it wasn’t for that fact, you wouldn’t be in this condition … that’s why I couldn’t forgive myself. We could never be together if I felt responsible for you losing your leg. I couldn’t face you ever again.”

  “Point taken. I’ll take it easy and do what I’m told” Rob promised, holding up his hands.

  35

  Over the next few days, with the aid of his laptop and smartphone, Rob was able to do a fair bit of work associated with both Harper MacLaine and Achravie Estate. Joe Harper visited the hospital regularly to feed him work and printouts of what he had done. Rob found the doctor’s “prescription” of rest and more rest increasingly frustrating but after Justine’s impassioned plea, resolved to do what he was told.

  After being discharged three days later, Justine visited most afternoons and every evening, often with his mother; Elizabeth had taken to staying with her the odd night to make visiting easier.

  Almost two weeks after the attack, the doctor advised that—if things continued to progress as they had—Rob would be able to go home within the next few days. He took great joy in passing this on to Justine when she visited that afternoon, and she squealed with delight.

  “One thing though,” she said. “I’d planned to get that trip to Achravie with the architect arranged in the next couple of days. If you’re coming home, I need to be there, to watch what you’re getting up to … to make sure you behave!”

  “I won’t be out for a few days yet, so yeah, go for it,” Rob agreed.

  “I’ve already spoken to Pete Hall. Andy came back from Aruba with a chest infection and he’ll be in bed for the next few days, so Pete’s still free. He sends his regards, by the way. Let me call him and see what I can arrange. Back in a mo’. Do you want anything from the shop by the way?” She sounded excited by the prospect of making progress on the project, which had stalled because of the attack.

  “A good rubdown with a hot woman wouldn’t go wrong, but failing that, a decent Malbec would be good.”

  “No and no!” Winking, she left and returned ten minutes later with a grin. “All arranged—we’re flying up tomorrow. The architect’s going to meet me at the Savage building and your mother is coming, as well. Pete says there’s a small airfield at Popham, quite near Crawley, so Richard’s going to drive your mother over and we’ll pick her up from there.”

  “I’ll tell Fraser.”

  Justine stayed for a while longer and they recapped the discussion they’d previously had, and fine-tuned some of the plans and decisions. Just before Rob’s evening meal was served, she said she’d head back to the apartment to pack.

  “Don’t you dare stop off anywhere to pick anything up,” Rob ordered.

  “I won’t,” Justine assured him, then smiled. “This is probably as good a time as any to tell you: I’ve had the flat emptied and put it on the market. I couldn’t go back there after what happened.”

  “So you’re moving in
with me permanently?” he grinned.

  She grinned in return. “If you’ll have me.”

  “You bet I’ll have you.”

  “One thing though. You need more wardrobe space,” Justine warned, then laughed. “Must go. I’ll call you from Achravie.” She kissed him and left.

  36

  The physiotherapy team worked intensely with Rob as the internal damage to his leg healed and the surgeons looked to get him ready to be discharged. He was encouraged to take regular short walks around the hospital corridors, supporting the still heavily strapped upper leg with the use of a walking stick.

  As he limped back from the cafeteria on the second evening of Justine’s trip to Achravie, Mars bars in hand, his phone vibrated and he stopped to dig it out of a robe pocket. The call was from Justine.

  “Hello you,” he said cheerfully.

  “Hello you, too,” she replied. “You sound very chirpy.”

  “Why not? I’m walking again, I’ve got four Mars bars, and I’m coming home in a few days.”

  “Who brought you Mars bars?” Justine enquired laughingly.

  “I went down to the cafeteria and got them … just on my way back now.”

  “Rob MacLaine, you be careful with that leg.”

  “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. Walks to the cafeteria are allowed. They come under the heading of therapy.”

  “How is the leg?”

  “More painful that it’s been lately, but I’m told that’s because I’m exercising it more now, and that will have an effect on the pain level. Other than that, it’s fine--doctors and physios are happy with the progress, so yeah, all positive stuff.” He leaned into the wall for support. “How are things in Achravie … and how’s my mother reacting to being back?”

  “Achravie’s fine. Your mum is really enjoying herself. I’m glad in a way that Pete Hall couldn’t pick us up till tomorrow; it’s given me more time to get my bearings and your mum more time to catch up with old friends and acquaintance. I’ve had a few discussions with the architect, who’s come up with a few ideas that I like. We can go over them when I get back. Your mum’s very impressed with our schemes. Fraser was a bit ‘oh I don’t know’ at first, but your mum made him see the positive side of the changes.”