Chapter 2
"Ye're not going to be able to question Beathan tonight," Elinor comments. "The doctors had to sedate him heavily."
"Inspector Andrews will understand. The lad had quite a shock, after all," Brutus remarks. "We'll be back tomorrow and if there are any changes to his well-being that might affect our investigation, please inform us at once."
"I'll make sure the other nurses understand," Elinor reassures before looking around. "Where is Constable Zephyr? I wanted to thank her for her assistance. She did extremely well in calming Beathan down."
Brutus looks around for his younger partner before spotting her near the nurses' station. A bushy brown eyebrow raises at her casual demeanor with Bog and he smothers the grin wanting to surface. He was beginning to think that she batted for the same team after three years of watching her snub every male that tried to date her. Brutus motions Elinor toward the scene before walking toward his preoccupied partner.
Marianne hands the warm coffee to the man before her as he struggles to stop the tears from falling. It was heartbreaking enough watching Beathan become hysterical and then feeling for herself his weakened form under her hands as she tried to restrain him from hurting himself more. Her own amber eyes had filled with tears when she walked out of the room to see his father collapsed to the floor in his own grief. Helping Bog to his feet was a bit difficult to do with his seven-foot-four stature against her five-foot-six height but doable compared to trying to soothe his despair when she could feel it in herself. Clearly, this case is going to be more complicated than just two teenage boys defying society and breaking the laws.
"Asking if you're going to be alright sounds rather stupid at the moment," Marianne remarks. "If you're up to it, though, I would like to ask a few more questions that would help my partner and me to understand the full cause of this accident."
"I'll help ye if I can but all I know is the lads were at a party and were heading back to my house since I have Bhaltair this weekend," Bog mumbles, sipping the warm liquid.
"You said that your sons argue constantly whenever they're together. It would be most helpful to our investigation if you can explain their normal behavior around each other and around other people," Marianne explains. "Miss Tussle wasn't all that cooperative and the only thing we managed to get from Bhaltair Mcgallrigh is that somehow this whole incident was caused by Beathan Mcgallrigh. Is this normal behavior for the twin brothers?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Bog sighs. "Bhaltair lives with Angelina and Beathan lives with me. It wasn't a problem when they were younger but as they grew older, they just started fighting. They don't get into physical fights, mind ye, but they don't get along. They're both good lads, though."
"Beathan is a good lad. Bhaltair can be a right bampot," Elinor interjects. "Don't try to deny it, cousin. Angelina lets him do whatever he wants as long as it doesn't bother her."
"Is it normal for one lad to be able to bait the other into doing something," Brutus questions?
"No," Bog admits. "Usually, one will do the opposite just for spite."
"This case is bothering ye, Meri," Brutus comments after he drives onto the main road.
"I know what I'd like to put on our report but it's against protocol," Marianne mutters. "Even though we haven't gotten Beathan Mcgallrigh's statement, it's quite clear that the one that should take full responsibility for this whole thing is Bhaltair Mcgallrigh."
"I know what ye mean," Brutus agrees. "Bhaltair's statement was riddled with faults from his denial about using his cell phone while in a running vehicle to Beathan goading the reckless speeds. He completely disregards the fact that he was the one driving and the first one to use his cell phone. The text was a clear indication that Beathan tried to keep his brother from driving but Bhaltair made no mention of that or the text."
"There is also the clear indication that neither mother nor son even cares about the state of that poor boy," Marianne growls. "I can't believe she told the doctor that she didn't care if he was hurt and that he deserved whatever he got. How can she call herself a mother?"
"We're to be impartial, Meri," Brutus reminds. "Our job is just to determine the cause of the collision and assist the Justice in determining who will be appearing in the court. As it stands, both lads will be appearing for traffic violations and it is the Justice who will determine their punishment. We'll return tomorrow after our shifts start to try and get a statement from Beathan."
"And if he's still not up to it," Marianne questions? "Having both his legs amputated from below the knee might put him in a condition that he won't be able to handle our questioning or the trial. Is it lawful to put him in a position that could very well deteriorate his well-being?"
"There is no clear answer for that," Brutus sighs. "We'll just do our jobs and if the doctor feels that Beathan's condition is too fragile then the Justice will delay the hearing until he can appear in court. Though, I will suggest to Inspector Andrews that it would be advisable that both lads are kept apart for the time being."
Marianne nods her agreement as Brutus expertly navigates through the rain-slicked roads. She keeps her eyes alert for any sign of trouble but her mind drifts back toward the infirmary and the small family. Even making their report, signing off at work, and returning to her studio flat can't get her thoughts away from three pairs of troubled blue eyes.
"Late! Late!"
Slamming her hand over her mouth to muffle the laughter does no good and she quickly shuts her door. Throwing her purse onto the entry-table, Marianne places her hands on her hips and glares at the pair on top of her bed. It does no good.
"Late! Late!"
"Hush, it's night time. You know the rules," Marianne mutters, shaking her finger.
The male Major Mitchell's cockatoo flares his crest before falling down and rolling onto his back while the female Major Mitchell's cockatoo flares her crest and bobs her head. Light chuckling draws Marianne's attention away from the quirky pair to her kitchenette. The older woman's presence in the recliner is startling but the off-duty officer notices the large set of keys on the counter, keys that she always saw with the landlord.
"I don't mean to be rude but who are you and what are you doing in my flat," Marianne questions?
"I'm Griselda. Alastair is my nephew," Griselda explains, shutting the book she was reading. "Yer neighbors called him about yer little ones making a racket and they noticed that ye hadn't come home at yer normal time. Alastair was tied up and asked if I would come and babysit yer little ones to get them to quiet down."
"See the mess you two got us into," Marianne groans, glaring at the unrepentant pair and dragging a hand through her short brown hair. "You're going to get us kicked out."
"Late! Late!"
"I know I'm late and you two need to go to bed," Marianne grumbles. "Puck, Plum, go to bed. Now!"
Griselda chuckles as the two cockatoos obediently walk to their cage and get in, even shutting the door behind them. She watches as the young woman changes their food and water before covering the cage. Barely holding back the loud laughter at the sound of snores coming from underneath the blanket, Griselda places her book into her handbag and lifts herself out of the chair.
"Thank you for looking after them. They're usually more behaved than this and I'm sorry they caused everyone an inconvenience," Marianne insists.
"I usually babysit the Moluccan cockatoo that my sister, Alistair's mother, owns and he can have real temper tantrums. Yer two are very well-behaved, so it wasn't any trouble at all," Griselda reassures. "And don't worry. Neither Alastair nor yer neighbors are upset about their antics. They were more worried about ye not coming home at yer normal time."
"There was an accident right before I signed off," Marianne admits. "No one was killed, so that's a blessing."
"But something about it is bothering ye," Griselda mentions, chuckling at the woman's look of surprise. "A mother can sense these things. I have to or I would never be able to understand my lad, private man that he is and all. Here's some advice. Follow yer heart, it's got more knowledge than yer brain and if ye can understand it correctly then ye'll never be led astray. Now, I best be off, my lads are probably in a tizzy by now."
"Thank you again for getting them to be quiet," Marianne remarks. "Did you drive here or can I offer you a lift home?"
"I rode the bus here but don't ye worry. I need to give Alistair his keys back and he promised earlier to give me a ride home," Griselda comments. "Have a good night."
Marianne smiles fondly as the elderly woman leaves before sighing as the homey feeling disappears with her. It's been over nine years since she had that comfort. A quick shake dispels the distressing nostalgia and she focuses her attention on cleaning her bedspread. Seems the mischievous pair had blackmailed their impromptu babysitter for peanuts in return for silence and a look toward their treat jar gives her a reminder that she needs to go shopping before work tomorrow.
Munching on a late dinner of fruit while getting ready for bed, Marianne's thoughts return to the Mcgallrigh father and sons. Griselda's familiar advice rings out once more when Puck quits his fake snoring to come out and steal a slice of apple. What's the harm in making a nonwork-related visit? It isn't against protocol to just stop by and see how Beathan is doing after she's done shopping.