Page 247 of Troubled Blood

“… and if I told anyone…’e’d go to the cops… say I was… extorting ’im…”

“Threatened you, did he?”

“Yeah,” panted Betty Fuller, though without rancor, “but ’e wasn’t… try’na get it… free… so I kep’… me mouf shut.”

“You never told Dr. Bamborough what was going on?” asked Robin.

Betty looked sideways at Robin who, in Strike’s view, had rarely looked as out of place as she did sitting on Betty’s bed: young, clean and healthy, and perhaps Betty’s drooping, occluded eyes saw his partner the same way, because she seemed to resent both question and questioner.

“’Course I fuckin’… didn’t. She tried ta get me to… stop working… Brenner… easiest job of the week.”

“Why was that?” asked Strike.

Betty laughed wheezily again.

“’E liked me… lyin’ still, like I was… coma… playin’ dead. ’E fucked me… sayin’ ’is dirty words… I pretended… couldn’t ’ear… except once,” said Betty, with a half-chuckle, half-cough, “the bleedin’ fire alarm… went off ’alfway… I said… in ’is ear… ‘I’m not stayin’ dead… if we’re on fuckin’ fire… I’ve got kids… next room…’ ’E was livid… turned out it was… false alarm…”

She cackled, then coughed again.

“D’you think Dr. Bamborough suspected Dr. Brenner of visiting you?” asked Robin.

“No,” said Betty, testily, with another sideways glance. “’Course she fuckin’ didn’t… was eivver of us gonna tell ’er?”

“Was Brenner with you,” asked Strike, “the night she went missing?”

“Yeah,” said Betty Fuller indifferently.

“He arrived and left at the usual times?”

“Yeah,” said Betty again.

“Did he keep visiting you, after Dr. Bamborough disappeared?”

“No,” said Betty. “Police… all over the surgery… no, ’e stopped comin’… I ’eard…’e retired, not long after… Dead now, I s’pose?”

“Yes,” said Strike, “he is.”

The ruined face bore witness to past violence. Strike, whose own nose had been broken, was sure Betty’s hadn’t originally been the shape it was now, with its crooked tip.

“Was Brenner ever violent to you?”

“Never.”

“While your—arrangement was going on,” said Strike, “did you ever mention it to anyone?”

“Nope,” said Betty.

“What about after Brenner retired?” asked Strike. “Did you happen to tell a man called Tudor Athorn?”

“Clever, aincha?” said Betty, with a cackle of mild surprise. “Yeah, I told Tudor…’e’s long gawn, ’s well… used to drink… wiv Tudor. ’Is nephew’s… still round ’ere… grown up… I seen ’im… about. Retarded,” said Betty Fuller.

“In your opinion,” said Strike, “given what you know about Brenner, d’you think he’d have taken advantage of a patient?”

There was a pause. Betty’s milky eyes surveyed Strike.

“On’y… if she was out cold.”

“Not otherwise?” said Strike.

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