Midnight Runner - Jack Higgins [48]
The nurse called to those at the counter. "Emergency!"
As two other nurses ran over, Helen's heels started to drum on the floor, and her body shook and then went still. One of the nurses felt for a neck pulse, then looked up.
"She's gone."
Grant said stupidly, "She can't have gone."
A male nurse put a hand on his shoulder. "She's dead, son."
"Oh, my God!" Grant turned and ran away, and Rupert went after him.
G rant was nearly out of his mind, he didn't know what to do. When he got back to Ten Canal Street, it was nearly dark. He parked the Escort, found the half bottle of vodka, and sat at the kitchen table drinking it, swallow after swallow very quickly. When the front door bell rang, he was already drunk. He ignored it, but it rang again. Angry, he went to open it.
He stood there, swaying, and Rupert pushed him back. "I was here earlier, I followed you to the hospital." He turned Grant and ran him into the kitchen. "I saw what happened. She's dead."
"I had nothing to do with it."
"You had everything to do with it." Rupert got him by the tie, took the Colt .25 from his inside pocket, and put it against the boy's left temple. "Did you give her one of the pills?"
Grant was shaking a great deal, as much from the large amount of vodka he'd drunk as from fear. "Just as you said. I can't understand it. I've taken Ecstasy. I've never had a reaction like that."
"Some people do. It's a kind of allergy," Rupert said, but he was looking closely at Grant. "But that wasn't what caused it, was it? You're completely drunk, Grant." He spied the empty bottle on the table. "You gave her vodka, didn't you? You got her drunk and then you gave her drugs, and after I told you not to mix them. You really screwed up this time, didn't you?"
Grant started to cry. "I didn't mean to. I didn't want to, she took the bottle. I couldn't stop her. And anyway, you gave me the Ecstasy. It's just as much your fault as mine."
As a piece of self-justification it was monumental, but all Rupert did was straighten Grant's collar. "You know what, Alan? You're right. But you don't look good. I think you need some air," and he pushed him out of the kitchen to the front door.
"What's down here?" Rupert asked.
"Canal Wharf."
"Why are the other houses boarded up?"
"They're going to redevelop. Everyone's gone except my brother. The Council's going to rehouse him when he comes back from Germany."
It was almost fully dark now, and they turned onto the wharf, passing under a single street lamp. There were lights on the other side of the river, a pleasure boat passed, the sound of music drifting across.
Grant leaned on the rail, maudlin now. "I used to play down there when I was a kid. There's a beach when the tide's out, all my mates swimming, only not me. I could never get the hang of it."
"That's good," Rupert said, stepped back, and stood behind him. Then he pushed hard with both hands and Grant went over with a cry.
He surfaced, floundering, his arms thrashing. "Help me," he called and went under again.
He seemed to have gone, but then he surfaced again, with very little movement now. Rupert peered down. "Are you all right, my friend?" There was a choking sound and Grant slipped away for the last time. "Yes, I thought you were." He shook his head and said softly, "She was a nice girl. You shouldn't have done that."
He turned and walked back to the Porsche.
B ack at South Audley Street, Kate Rashid was still sitting at the fire and it was as if nothing had occurred in between.
"Well, did you find them?"
He didn't have a drink, simply went and opened the French window at the small terrace and lit a cigarette.
"I believe once, in an excess of enthusiasm, I said I'd do anything for you, even kill for you."
"I remember, darling."
"Well, I just did."
She looked stunned, then began to smile. "What happened?"
And he told her.
T he charge nurse at St.