Broken Fall: A D.I. Harland novella by Fergus McNeill Read Free Book Online

fifth, six years ago.’
    ‘May the fifth …’ Harland nodded as he scribbled the date down. ‘And do you know where she was employed before that?’
    ‘I think she was doing short-term contracts.’ Fiona peered down, turning a page. ‘Yes, some NHS relief posts, that sort of thing … working through a private agency.’
    ‘And had anyone else looked after Albert? Before her, I mean?’
    ‘I don’t think so …’ Fiona pursed her lips as she consulted a second sheaf of papers at the back of the file. ‘No, she joined us just before he became a client. And she’s looked after him right the way through, except when she’s been off sick or on holiday.’
    ‘Anyone who regularly fills in for her when she’s away?’
    Fiona looked up at him in surprise, then shook her head, laughing.
    ‘We don’t have the staff for that!’ she replied. ‘When somebody’s away, we just schedule whoever we can.’
    ‘Of course,’ Harland smiled. ‘I imagine it’s difficult enough to have the same person as a regular carer under
normal
circumstances …’
    ‘It really is,’ Fiona told him. ‘But we try hard to arrange it where we can. Continuity of care makes a huge difference.’
    ‘I suppose it builds understanding … and trust,’ Harland mused. Then he glanced up at her. ‘But that must make it rough on the carer when someone they know so well finally dies.’
    ‘It’s hard,’ she nodded sadly. ‘But that’s the job. Some people can detach themselves, but many who do it long term do it because they care. That makes it especially painful when they lose someone.’
    ‘Very difficult,’ Harland sighed. ‘And I understand this isn’t the first time it’s happened to Tracey?’
    ‘No, she’s lost two others …’ Fiona hesitated, her expression hardening as she made the connection. ‘And before you ask,
no
. She’s not an angel of death.’
    It had been clumsy, but there was no easy way to ask.
    ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t suggesting …’
    Fiona folded her arms and stared at him. ‘Weren’t you?’
    ‘No, I really wasn’t.’ He met her gaze, waiting for her to thaw a little, then he added, ‘But you understand why I have to check … why it matters?’
    She scowled at him for a moment, then looked away, shaking her head.
    ‘I suppose so,’ she conceded. ‘But I can assure you, Tracey’s a good person, very dedicated …’
    Harland felt a buzzing in his jacket pocket. Drawing out his phone, he saw a number he didn’t recognise on the screen, and quickly busied the call.
    ‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘Dedicated?’
    ‘Oh yes,’ Fiona reflected. ‘I know for certain that she’s had better offers – more pay, easier hours – but she’s always turned them down.’
    ‘She must really care about her clients,’ Harland said, thoughtfully.
    ‘She really does,’ Fiona smiled to herself. ‘And they care about her. Poor old Albert was ever so fond of her, and his family made it very clear that they didn’t want anyone else looking after him.’
    Harland paused for a moment, considering this.
    ‘Did they engage you, or was it Albert?’
    Fiona hesitated, then leafed through the pages of the file for a moment.
    ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘It’s usually one of the children who sets the ball rolling in things like this, but I can’t remember who it was. Sorry.’
    ‘Don’t worry,’ Harland told her. ‘I’ll find out.’

Chapter 7
    Harland slotted the key into the ignition but didn’t start the engine. Sitting back in his seat, he gazed out through the windscreen. An elderly lady was walking towards the salon, one hand holding her headscarf against the rising wind. Peering up at the sky, he noted the gathering clouds – it looked like rain soon.
    Frowning, he fumbled in his jacket pocket and drew out his phone, wondering who the missed call had been from. 01934 … that was the dialling code for Weston-Super-Mare, and there was a new voicemail message from the