Read Online Dead in the Water by Aline Templeton - Free Book Online Page B

Someone who speaks English?’
    He seemed to understand, pointing back to the waiting room, and she went to see.
    It had been quiet in the small medical treatment unit in Newton Stewart and there was only one person there, a man in his sixties, perhaps, with longish, badly cut grey hair. He was a little above medium height, with the lean fitness of a much younger man; from the look of his heavy boots and his hands he did the sort of physical work that would mean you were unlikely to run to fat.
    ‘Do you speak English?’ the nurse asked hopefully, smiling.
    ‘Yes.’ He didn’t smile back.
    ‘Could you help me talk to your friend? He doesn’t understand what I’m asking him.’
    He got up without response and followed her through to the treatment room where he said something gruffly to Kasper which the nurse didn’t understand.
    She prepared a steel bowl with water and disinfectant, and brought a handful of swabs to begin cleaning the wound. ‘What happened?’ she asked again.
    ‘An accident.’ The man didn’t consult her patient. ‘He was working on some stone and the – the – I do not know the word,’ he mimed a tool, ‘it slipped.’ That was his only hesitation; he had a strong accent, but his English was good.
    ‘Working on stone with a knife, was he, on a Sunday night? Look, I know a knife wound when I see one. Why not tell me who did that, and we can inform the police?’
    The older man’s face went blank and his language skills seemed to desert him. ‘Don’t understand. Accident.’
    ‘If that’s how you want it, there’s nothing I can do. But tell him to keep out of trouble. Whoever did that wasn’t playing games.’
    She cleaned the wound thoroughly. Kasper, biting his lip, didn’t flinch.
    ‘I’ll put adhesive strips on and bind it up meantime. But it needs proper attention and you’ll need to go to Dumfries. I’ll give you a note – do you understand?’
    Kasper nodded, and she guessed he understood more than he was admitting. Not speaking English could be a way of avoiding awkward questions.
    ‘Do you have transport?’ she asked. ‘There’s a bus service, but it’s not great—’
    ‘We have a van,’ the older man said. ‘I can drive him there.’
    She finished off. ‘There you are. No serious damage, but it needs to be checked and properly stitched. Is it very painful?’
    Again, Kasper nodded, unprompted.
    She fetched painkillers and gave them to him in a paper cup, with a glass of water. He swallowed them, then said a heavily accented thank you.
    She smiled. ‘That’ll keep you going till you get it seen to.’
    His smile made him very attractive, in a brooding sort of way. The older man’s face had relaxed and she thought he too was quite good-looking, with nice blue eyes. She’d noticed before that a lot of Polish men seemed to be, and they usually had nice manners too.
    This wasn’t the first time she’d seen young Poles showing signs of conflict. It was the first time for a knife wound, though, and it worried her.
    The nurse was just about to go off duty when Sergeant Christie from Newton Stewart police station brought in an early-morning cyclist who had come off his bike. She directed him into a treatment room, then spoke to Christie.
    ‘Just thought you should know – I’d a young Pole in here last night with a knife slash on his forearm. He claimed it was an accident, but it looked as if he’d put up his arm to ward off a knife attack. Nasty.’
    Sergeant Christie was a neat man with a little moustache, very punctilious and a little pompous. ‘A sad reflection on today’s society. Have you the address? We’ll chase it up.’

4
    ‘You’re early this morning, ma’am!’ the Force Civilian Assistant said as DI Fleming came in on Monday morning.
    Fleming smiled at the woman on the front desk. ‘Lot to do today,’ she said as she passed. She didn’t stop. FCAs had replaced desk sergeants, ‘for efficiency’, they claimed, though a chat with Jock