Death Before Time (14 page)

“Bring him inside and I’ll give him some brandy - ” The barman had joined them.

They eased him up and helped him walk to the bar; the barman produced a shot that was at least a triple and Fraser gratefully took a pull.

“Ahh …” He said, then tossed back the rest.

“Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“What happened?”

He told them, leaving out the warning they’d given him.

“Muggers, I suppose,” said the team’s spokesman, who was called Ron. “Did they take anything?”

Fraser shook his head again.

The barman was looking at him curiously. “Sounds more like bully boys to me … you been getting up anyone’s nose lately?”

“I don’t even live round here, I’m a locum. You probably stopped them before they could take anything.”

They pushed it around a bit more, then Ron and one of the others said they’d walk with Fraser back to his flat. At the stairs, he thanked them, sincerely.

“I owe you, gents.”

“Forget it,” said Ron.

“No, don’t forget it,” said the other. “We want you in the team.”

Fraser laughed, then winced. “See you,” he said.

In his room, he took some paracetamol, then gingerly stripped off and stepped into the shower. The hot water flowed over his body, soothing his aches. Back in his room, he pulled on his boxers and bundled up his dirty clothes. Found his whisky and poured – it was only then he thought to ring Tom.

“I’m coming up,” Tom said.

“No, wait … “ But he’d already rung off.

He slowly drank the whisky. Tom was with him ten minutes later. He made Fraser describe the men and what they’d said.

“You’re sure about that?
Here’s
the
guy
who
won’t
take
a
hint
… nothing about leaving Helen St John alone?”

“No. There’s something else about her, though … “ He told Tom how he’d followed her and Ranjid.

“D’you think they’re … ?” Tom left the sentence unfinished.

“Tonkin’?” Fraser shrugged. “No idea. What d’you think?”

“How should I know?” Then, “I wonder what her game is …”

“At this exact moment in time, Tom, I don’t give a - a tonk.”

Tom smiled. “All right. Get some sleep and we’ll talk about it tomorrow,” he said, and left.

Fraser made himself drink some water, switched off the light and manoeuvred himself into bed, trying not to pull his stomach muscles.

His head swirled, but for a long time, sleep wouldn’t come. The pain nagged at him – his belly, his balls, even the back of his head. He lay there, thanking God, or providence, that the leader hadn’t got his second punch in.

Chapter 16

Friday morning: he could hardly move and the livid red bruise on his belly stabbed as he squirmed out of bed. His head didn’t feel much better, though whether from the sandbag or the booze, he couldn’t be sure. He took more paracetamol, had another hot shower, then a strong coffee and off to work.

By the time he got there, the aches had eased a bit and his body was more or less responding to his brain so long as he didn’t move too quickly.

He was on his way from his office to the wards to check the “at risk” patients on his list when he saw two familiar figures at the reception desk – Nigel Fleming and Patricia Matlock MP. The latter looked up and saw him, and her eyes gleamed in recognition.

“Dr Callan, isn’t it? Fraser?”

He stopped as she came over to him.

“That’s right, er - ” he hesitated, unsure whether to call her Miss or Mrs or Ms …

“Patricia Matlock,” she enunciated clearly. “We met at Patrick’s party.”

“Aye, I’m sorry, I do remember. I was surprised you should remember me.”

“Oh, you caused quite a stir,” she said.

“I did?”

“Oh yes. That nice Dr Singh was rushing round quite foaming at the mouth after you decamped with his girlfriend.”

“I hadn’t realised it was as bad as that.”

“Oh yes,” she repeated. “He even accused Patrick of being in league with you. Most embarrassing.” She didn’t look in the least embarrassed. “But I dare say it all ended up happily ever after?”

“That would depend on your point of view.”

She gave a silvery laugh. “I dare say it would.“ Her smile faded like a light on a dimmer switch. “I trust you haven’t also forgotten what I said about muddy waters.”

“The blues singer, you mean?”

This time her smile was more of a grimace. “No Fraser, not the blues singer.”

Fleming came over. “Oh hello, it’s Dr Callan, isn’t it?”

“That’s right,” he said again. “How’re you, Mr Fleming?”

“Well, thank you. You too, I hope?” He didn’t give a tonk, either.

As Fraser nevertheless assured him he was, Philip came out. He looked tired and strained. He nodded to Fraser and asked the others through.

The image of the MP’s face remained with Fraser as he continued on his way … Fleming’s face merely repelled, but hers both repelled and attracted in equal measure - why was that, he wondered?

Well, she was an alpha female, of course - Fleming would merely dominate, but she probably liked to mix her methods where males were concerned …

Rose Parker and Cedric White both had visitors and both looked fine. Rose especially – her visitor was a young man, not much more than a boy. He was talking animatedly, she was smiling broadly.

Fraser went back to his office and looked up the others on the computer. They were all fine as well.

But were they fine because the perpetrator had suspended operations, or because – dread thought - he was wrong about the whole thing?

His headache had come back and he rubbed at his eyes with his fingers.

*

At about the same time, Jo and Jackie were having their fag break in the courtyard. Jackie said suddenly, “Sharon tells me you were going through some of the notes of dead patients yesterday.”

“Yes, I was.”
Never
say
any
more
than
you
have
to
…

“Any particular reason?”

“I was interested in what the most common killers are here. Why, did I do something wrong?”

“No-o … besides, you don’t have to look through the actual notes, we do keep statistics of that sort of thing.”

“I’d be interested to see them - although of course, they don’t give the depth of information that notes do.”

Still looking at her … “Sharon also said you were asking about one of the nurses.”

“Yes, Carrie Tucker, I thought I’d have a word with her. It struck me that you seem to have a lot of pneumonia here and I was going to ask her about those particular patients.” It sounded weak in Jo’s ears as she said it, but Jackie didn’t pick up on it.

Instead, she said defensively, “I don’t think we have any more pneumonia here than anywhere else … it is a common cause of death in older people, you know.”

Press
home
the
advantage
… “Yes, but haven’t you ever wondered why, Jackie?”

“Well, there are lots of reasons … decreased lung efficiency, the fact that supine patients can’t clear all the rubbish in them … anyway, all I was going to say was that I’d appreciate your mentioning it to me another time.”

“Of course – and I’m sorry if I’ve offended,” Jo said with a smile.

“Fine, let’s forget it.” Jackie stubbed her fag and they went back in.

Bloody
hell
, Jo thought as she followed her, Fraser wasn’t kidding about everyone knowing what everyone else did here …

On Singh’s ward round, she noted another “at risk” patient:Lily Stokes, aged 75 with cancer of the thyroid that had metastasised. She probably only had a few months to live, but was neither senile nor vegetative. Singh prescribed Doxamethadone and radiotherapy to ease her symptoms.

When the ward round was over, she checked the others on her list: Shirley Norman in room one and Rose Parker in three.

Shirley was fine, but Rose beckoned her over. “I’m sorry to trouble you, nurse,” she began, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper – she broke off, swallowed … ”Dry mouth, been talking too much … ”

“I’ll get you something for it.”

She shook her head. “Already got one, in there … “ She indicated her cabinet.

Jo found the glandosalve dispenser and handed it to her.

“That’s better,” said Rose when she’d used it. “You know, it makes me feel very uncomfortable, not being able to speak.” She smiled. “Although I can think of more than a few who might have been glad of it when I was teaching. Anyway, I only wanted to ask you if you’d put this in the post for me, please.” She held out a letter.

“Of course,” said Jo, taking it. “Where did you teach?”

“In the same primary school in Wansborough all my life.” She smiled again. “That probably sounds a bit sad to you – that’s the expression these days isn’t it? - but some of them do still remember me. They come and see me, you know. That’s why I get so hoarse.”

“What a lovely compliment,” Jo said sincerely.

Rose nodded complacently. “Yes, it is, isn’t it. Makes me feel that my life wasn’t completely wasted.”

“Not if they do that, it wasn’t.”

They chatted for a more few minutes before Jo left, still smiling. She rather liked Rose.

*

“Is it connected with the other attack, the first?” Marcus asked.

They were all in Tom’s hotel room that evening and Fraser had been telling them about the latest offence on his person.

“Got to be,” said Tom, “What with the reference to the guy who won’t take a hint. The first was a warning, the second was meant to seriously hurt.”

“We don’t want a third, then,” said Marcus.

“No, we don’t,” Fraser agreed feelingly – the effects had caught up with him now, he ached all over and pain jabbed behind his eyes.

“I’ve got some ideas that might help you there, Fraser,” Tom said. “We’ll talk about it afterwards. The thing is, who’s behind it?”

“Well, it’s either Ranjid or whoever’s behind the killings.”

“I hope to God it is him,” Tom said, “Because otherwise it means someone’s on to you.”

“Couldn’t it be both?” said Jo.

They looked at her and she continued, “Ranjid could be both behind the killings
and
jealous of Fraser. Unless Saint Helen’s in it with him.”

“I don’t think so,” said Fraser.

“Why not?”

“I just don’t,” he said irritably.

“Then why is she stringing you along the way she is?” said Tom.

“If anybody’s doing any stringing along at the moment, it’s me,” Fraser said. He told them about Helen’s moods, the way she’d got so upset when he wouldn’t stay the night with her. “She wasn’t putting that on,” he said, “It was real. And you know something? It was worse than the beating.”

“I sympathise,” said Marcus, “But you’ve got to carry on with it - for now, anyway.” He turned to Jo. “Have you had a chance to look at the drug system yet?”

Jo described what she’d seen. “It would be easy enough for someone to substitute bogus ampicillin beforehand,” she said, “Although it would mean that
all
the patients were getting it.”

Fraser shook his head. “That can’t be right, it worked perfectly well with the two false alarms.”

Marcus said, “Which leaves us with someone somehow targeting them.”

Jo told them about Carrie Tucker’s signatures on the drug chart. “And you’ve seen her on the drug round too, haven’t you, Fraser?”

He nodded.

Tom said, “She certainly does seem to be around the drug trolley a lot, doesn’t she? But how would she do it?”

“It would be easy for the nurse actually giving the drug to substitute a dummy,” Jo said, “But there’d be a pattern, wouldn’t there? It would be the same nurse’s signature on the chart with every death.”

“But didn’t you say there’re always two nurses on the drug round? Carrie could have been the
other
one.”

“But that would mean there were two nurses in on it … wouldn’t it?”

“No, I don’t think so,” said Tom. He jumped up and paced around a moment before turning back to them … “Case one: nurse X gives the proper drug to Carrie, who does a quick switch and gives the dummy to the patient and signs the chart – OK?”

They nodded.

“Case two: Carrie makes the switch when she takes the drug from the trolley and gives it to nurse X, who then gives it to the patient and signs the chart.” He looked at Jo. “You’re going to have to find out if Carrie was on the rounds with the dead patients where her signature
doesn’t
appear.”

Jo let out a groan. “I’ve already had one sister giving me a third degree ... ” She told them about Jackie’s interrogation.

“All right,” said Tom, “Do what you can without arousing suspicion.”

He asked how many “at risk” patients they’d noticed now.

“So that’s five,” he said when they’d finished, but Fraser couldn’t hold back any longer –

“It’s five
supposedly
at risk patients who’ve had absolutely nothing wrong with them,” he said. “We’ve also had two
not
at risk patients who’ve had pneumonia and got better. Either they’ve suspended operations, or … I’ve got it all wrong.”

Marcus said quietly, “The reason we’re here Fraser, is because when we checked your figures, they indicated that you were right.”

“But it’s been two weeks and there’s been nothing … ”

“And we’re going to give it another two weeks at least.”

Tom said, “Fraser, it’s not really surprising there’s been a lull. Everyone knew about your row with Singh over pneumonia deaths and then Edwina found you looking at causes of death.”

After a moment, Fraser nodded.

Marcus said, “These five patients, can you cover them all between you?”

They could, except for Daniel Pope, who was Singh’s patient and not on Jo’s list.

“What about the weekend?” said Fraser.

“You can’t afford to hang around with no good reason,” said Tom, “You especially, Fraser.”

“But it’s when they tend to go down with it … “

There was a silence, then Jo said, “I’m due back at four on Sunday, if that’s any help.”

Fraser said, “I told Helen I’d see her tonight. That means I can stay over, pick up something in my office tomorrow and look them up on the computer.”

“That’s the best we can do for now. You’ll be working some of the next weekends, won’t you Jo?”

She nodded.

“That’ll make it easier.”

The meeting broke up and Jo left. Fraser was about to go too when Tom stopped him -

“We were going to have a word, weren’t we?“ He took him aside, opened his case and brought out a torch combined with a screamer.

“You’ll be amazed at just how much noise it makes,” he said at Fraser’s look of disdain. “Enough to put anyone off their stroke.”

“What if they grab me before I can use it?”

“Always keep it in your hand when you’re walking in the dark, but if you
are
grabbed, try and stamp on their instep – it’s as good as a kick in the goolies and not so predictable.”

Fraser smiled as Tom showed him how to do it, remembering for some reason what he’d said to Helen about ghoulies on another evening.

“And Fraser,” Tom said quietly, “ Marcus and I wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t think there was something to it. OK?”