‘
Yes?’
I
heard her take a breath. ‘Dr Wall tells me he thinks you’ve been under an inordinate amount of stress recently — something that had already occurred to me, you may remember …’
I
didn’t hear the rest. You
bastard
! I thought furiously. How could you?
I
heard myself agreeing that we should discuss it, then replaced the receiver.
‘
What’s the problem?’ Jones asked, but before I could reply, the phone went again.
‘
For you,’ I said, holding it out to him.
‘
Hello? Oh, hello, Andy … hang on a minute while I find a pen …’
I
leaned back into the sofa while he found pen and paper and closed my eyes. I don’t know whether it was the sleepless nights, the release of tension after Polo’s visit or Stephen’s treachery, but a savage pain started pulsing behind my eyes and I wanted nothing more than to forget everything and sink into my bed …
The
drone of his voice stopped and I realized he’d been speaking to me.
‘
I’m sorry?’
‘
I said, is there any reason why we shouldn’t go in now and get the patient records from the computer? So I could make a start on them.’
‘
Yes, there is.’ The words came with difficulty. ‘I can’t remember when I last felt this awful. Also, it would look odd. I’m not expected until tomorrow morning.’
‘
You might have a point there — we don’t want to alert the person we’re after. Listen, I’m sorry you feel so rough, but it would help if you could answer a few more questions before I go.’
‘
Go
?
’
Fear banished the pain for a moment and I sat up. ‘Mr Jones, I’d … I rather assumed you’d stay — for tonight, anyway. Sutton isn’t going to be very pleased with me after Polo’s told him what’s happened.’
‘
Stay here, you mean?’
‘
If you think your reputation could stand it. I do have a spare room.’
‘
All right,’ he said after a moment, not really liking it. ‘I’ll need to collect some things from my hotel, though. And let my wife know where I am.’
I
didn’t like the idea of being left alone at all, so I went with him to his hotel while he collected a few things, although I can’t remember much about the journey.
When
we got back, he started asking more questions about the patients on my notes, but I was too tired to make much sense, and after a while, he gave up.
‘
Can I use your phone?’ he asked. ‘I want to find out about a PM on Mrs Sutton, among other things.’
‘
Help yourself.’
I
staggered away upstairs before he could think of anything else, took a couple of paracetamols and went to bed.
Strangely
enough, I didn’t sleep immediately. The pain in my head slowly diminished to a manageable point in the middle of my brow, and all the while, I was aware of Jones’s voice droning away on the phone downstairs. It was oddly comforting.
*
I was awoken by a persistent tapping. Didn’t realize it was from my door until he said, ‘Sister, I need to speak to you. It’s important.’
‘
What time is it?’
‘
Half-past eight.’
I
’d slept for eight hours, although it didn’t feel like it.
‘
What’s the matter?’
‘
I’ll tell you when you come down. Would you like a coffee?’
‘
All right.’
I
dragged on some clothes and splashed some water on to my face before going down. He was sitting on the sofa, smoking a cheroot. Two mugs of coffee were on the table in front of him.
‘
What’s the problem?’ I looked for my cigarettes, then realized I didn’t want one.
‘
A problem is exactly what we’ve got,’ he said deliberately.
‘
Well?’ I sat on the sofa beside him and took a mouthful of coffee.
‘
I’ve been on the phone to my boss for most of the day — which reminds me, I’ll have to reimburse you for that …’
‘
I wish you’d get to the point.’
‘
All right.’
It
occurred to me that he really was worried about something.
‘
While my boss accepts my judgement that there probably have been killings at your hospital, he says we need some hard evidence.’
The
coffee had begun to clear my head. ‘You said something earlier about arranging a PM on Mrs Sutton.’
‘
Indeed I did. Unfortunately, her funeral’s tomorrow morning.’
‘
Can’t it be delayed?’
‘
It could, yes, but my boss would prefer to avoid that.’
‘
But I can’t see —’
‘
Listen. You’ve already been to the police and told them people were being murdered on your ward. Then you went back and told them it was all a mistake —’
‘
But you know why I —’
‘
Yes, but it doesn’t alter the fact that you withdrew your allegation, and that a death certificate’s been signed for Mrs Sutton. To get a PM done now, we’d have to convince the coroner, and that would take some doing.’
‘
But surely your department could —’
‘
It could be done, yes, but what d’you think Sutton’s feelings would be at this stage? Especially if the PM didn’t find anything.’
‘
But I thought you said you believed me.’
‘
I said that there was nothing wrong with your analysis and that it needed investigating.’
I
slumped forward. ‘So what can we do about it?’
‘
Mrs Sutton’s body’s still in the hospital mortuary. We go and get a blood sample from it ourselves — tonight.’
‘You’re out of your mind.’ I said it quite calmly.
‘
No,’ he said equally calmly. ‘My boss told me that if we really couldn’t do it, he’d try and get it done officially. But the news would get out — there’s no way we could stop it. And it could be potentially disastrous for you — not to mention your career.’
‘
But what can a blood sample tell us? There should be a complete PM …’
‘
In ideal circumstances, yes. But if she was murdered, it has to be by drugs. You were there when she died, weren’t you?’
I
nodded reluctantly.
‘
So whatever it was that killed her should still be in her bloodstream.’
He
looked at me steadily. He was right.
I
needed that cigarette badly now. I lit it and blew smoke. ‘How would we get in?’
‘
I have keys that would do it.’
‘
I don’t even know whether you can get blood from a corpse,’ I said wildly. Not true, I remembered.
‘
D’you think I like it any more than you?’ he snarled. ‘It’s for your sake, dammit!’
Looking
at him, I could see that he really was as unhappy as me about it.
‘
All right!’ I snapped. ‘I think it may be possible,’ I went on slowly. ‘I seem to remember that blood doesn’t clot in a body, it just sinks.’
‘
D’you know where the mortuary is?’
I
nodded.
‘
Have you ever been inside?’
‘
Yes — years ago.’
‘
What’s the security like?’
‘
Er — it’s kept locked, obviously. And there’s an intercom.’
‘
It’s not manned at night?’
‘
I don’t think so. I’m almost certain it isn’t.’
‘
Intruder alarms?’
‘
Er — I don’t know.’
He
swallowed. ‘Well, we’ll find out, won’t we?’
*
An hour later. I’d dressed in my uniform and we went in my car — we’d be less conspicuous, he said. He drove.
I
went into ITU to collect the necessary equipment. There was no one in the Duty Room. I opened a cupboard, found a syringe, needles.
‘
Jo?’
I
turned.
‘
Oh, hello, Teresa.’ Surely she would notice the unnecessary uniform, hear the tremor in my voice. ‘Just checking we’ve got some stuff I need tomorrow for a demonstration. Everything all right?’
‘
Fine. How about you? I heard you had a pretty grim time.’
‘
Yes. Fine now, thanks.’
I
took the stuff into my office and waited till she was busy before thrusting it into my handbag. Fiddled around a bit more before going.
‘
Bye, Teresa.’
‘
Night, Jo.’
‘
Got everything?’ asked Jones as I got back into the car.
I
nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘
You were a long time.’
‘
Ran into someone. Do we take the car?’ St Chad’s was an old hospital and covered a large area.
‘
No, we’ll leave it here and walk.’
Our
footsteps were unnaturally loud. No one was about, but I felt painfully conspicuous — what possible legitimate reason could we have for being here? We were approaching the boiler house …
‘
It’s the next building along,’ I said quietly.
‘
We’ll go past it and round the back,’ he said.
There
was a light outside the front. We walked past, then, without looking round, turned into the shadows on the far side. It was like walking into blindness.
He
took out a pencil torch and flashed it — I bumped into him to avoid a drain.
We
turned into the passage at the back. Found the door. He shone the light around it.
‘
No sign of an alarm neutralizer,’ he murmured, handing me the torch. ‘You’ll have to hold this for me.’
He
brought out a bunch of keys. I shone the pencil beam on to the lock. He inserted one of them; tried moving it about before withdrawing it.
I
’d just begun to think we weren’t going to do it when the fourth key turned. He pushed the door a little way and listened before pushing it open. He put the keys away and took the torch from me. We went in and he shut the door. The faint, nutty smell of formaldehyde clamped on to my nostrils.
He
said, ‘Where’s the front door?’
‘
Straight up there.’ I pointed.
Our
shoes clacked on the tiled floor; echoed on the tiled walls. Past the marble slabs of the post-mortem theatre; past the humming units of the refrigerated body store.
He
shone his torch on to the front door, found a bolt and pushed it across.
‘
Now,’ he said. ‘Let’s find her, shall we?’ His own voice held a slight tremor, I noticed.
He
led the way back to the body store.
‘
Shall we put the lights on?’ I asked.
‘
No. Might get somebody wondering.’
He
fiddled with the torch and the light strengthened. ‘Shine it up there,’ I said, pointing to the stainless steel refrigerator doors. ‘The names should be there.’
There
were four doors in a row, four names on each …
Underhill,
Finch, Prescott, Williams …
Next
door.
Lynch,
Newman,
Sutton
.
He
reached up and pulled the handle … it clicked and the door swung open.
The
cadavers were stacked, each on a metal tray, each wrapped in a sheet, the head towards us. She was the third one down; approximately thigh height.
‘
These just slide out, don’t they?’ he said.
‘
Yes, but they’re not —’
Before
I could stop him, he’d grasped the handle at the front of the tray and pulled it out … and the tray and body fell on to the floor with an orchestral crash . . .
I
gazed at him, appalled. ‘How
could
you … ?’ was all I could find to say to him.