Death Before Time (19 page)

“Does she often take against people like that?”

“Not usually, no.”

Jo let out a sigh. “Just one of those things, I suppose.” She smiled. “Thanks for sticking up for me, Jackie.”

“That’s all right. I wish I could have done more.”

Jo walked back to her room deep in thought. Lit a fag as soon as she’d shut the door…

It
wasn’t
just one of those things, there had to be a reason for Helen to dislike her so obviously … did she suspect something between her and Fraser, had she seen her handbag on his bed that time?

But how would she have known it was hers - ?

She jerked as though electrified –

Or
was
it
because
Helen
knew
that
Mrs
B
was
telling
the
truth
…

Everything pointed to it, her body language, the way she’d stared at her so relentlessly, the way she’d set the trap.

So how did she know?

Because
Lily
hadn’t
died
as
she
was
supposed
to
-
that’s
how
…

She called Fraser.

Chapter 22

“Fraser? It’s me, Jo – can you talk?”

“I’ve got about five minutes.”

“It’s Helen – I’m sure of it.”

For a moment, he couldn’t speak, then: “But how … d’you have evidence?”

She told him about Mrs Bailey and Helen’s interrogation. “It was the way she went for me, the way she looked at me … she knew I’d given those injections.”

Fraser tried to pull his thoughts together. “So it all comes down to the way she looked at you?”

“You weren’t there, Fraser – she
knew
.”

He said carefully, “You’ve told me before how she dislikes you, and I’ve had the same impression. Are you sure it wasn’t just her dislike?”

“Yes, I am sure. We have to go and see Tom about it.”

“Yes … I’ve got to go for the ward round now. I’ll try and get an early lunch – will you be in your room?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll ring you in an hour and a half, two hours. OK?”

He put the phone down, ran his hands over his face …

Could she be right, just when he’d made his made up that it wasn’t Helen? He took a breath, stood up and went to meet the others.

Helen smiled when she saw him. He smiled back.

No, it wasn’t her. It was just bad chemistry – they simply didn’t like each other.

The ward round went slowly, uneventfully. When it was over, Helen got him on his own.

“Are you still OK for tonight?”

“Sure.”

“No darts matches or other pressing engagements?”

“No,” he said with a smile. “Eight?”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Edwina made no problems about him taking early lunch.

She said, “I’ll do this morning’s clinic if you’ll do this afternoon’s.”

“Thanks, Edwina.”

Actually, he reflected as he went back to his office, she was getting the better deal by some margin – the afternoon clinic was always worse than the morning’s. He phoned Jo.

“I’ll come over to you,” he told her, “And we’ll go in your car. Less conspicuous.”

She was waiting for him and they went quickly to her Mini. He sat low in the seat with his head down until they were clear of the hospital.

“No second thoughts?” he asked her.

“No. How about you?”

“I find it very difficult to accept.”

“Let’s see what Tom says.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll agree with you,” he said pointedly. “Have you phoned him?”

“I told him the outline,” she admitted.

He grunted and they didn’t say any more until they got there.

Tom ushered them in. Jo went over the events of the morning again while Tom listened carefully.

“Tell me again why you’re so sure,” he said.

“The way she set it up and then her outright hostility towards me. There’s no doubt in my mind but that she
knows
I gave those injections. And there’s only one way she could know – Lily Stokes should have died, she was expecting her to die and the fact that she
didn’t
must be due to interference – my interference. I’m the only one who could have done it.”

“Fraser?”

“I can’t agree. Helen’s comments about Jo, what Jo’s told me about Helen’s attitude to her all indicate that she doesn’t like her. That’s the reason for the hostility. It’s just that – hostility.”

“Her dislike is based on suspicion,” said Jo. “She’s never really accepted that someone like me would drop a grade for the privilege of working there.”

“Do you like
her
, Jo?” Fraser asked.

“You know I don’t, Fraser,” she replied.

“Why not?” Tom asked.

“Because she doesn’t like me … all right,” she said before either of them could protest – “Because I think she’s cold, self-centred and egotistical.”

“What do you base that on?” – Tom again.

“Intuition,” said Fraser with the suspicion of a sneer.

Tom said mildly, “I have a healthy respect for intuition.” He turned back to Jo. “Can you back it up with reason?”

“It’s rather personal,” Jo said after a pause. She took a cigarette out and lit it. “I find her attitude to patients, to people in general, cold and impersonal. Oh, I know a nurse has to be to an extent but I can feel no warmth in her towards the patients, or to
anyone
really – other than Fraser.” She drew on the cigarette. “And … only someone utterly self-centred would press an affair the way she has with a man as recently bereaved as Fraser. Sorry, Fraser,” she added.

Fraser said, “Doesn’t that make my point? They dislike each other and that’s why Jo is predisposed against her.”

“I could say the opposite,” Jo said. “The fact that you’ve been sleeping with her predisposes you towards her.”

“I can assure you that it doesn’t,” Fraser spat.

“That’s enough” Tom said sharply, making it clear he meant both of them. After a pause, he went on, “I have to take what Jo says seriously, although I accept there’s no proof. When are you seeing her again?” he asked Fraser.

“Tonight.”

“Supposing, just for the sake of argument, that Jo’s right … Helen has no reason for suspecting you, does she?”

“No,” he said slowly, “Unless she saw Jo’s handbag that time in my room … “

“How would she know it was mine?” Jo demanded.

“I don’t know, unless she saw you come in – ”

“How
could
she have – “

“All right, all right,” said Tom. He took out a cheroot and tapped it thoughtfully against the pack before lighting it. “We’ve got to get this sorted. You, Fraser, are going to have to say something about Jo and Mrs Stokes to test her reaction.”

“Then she’d
certainly
bloody suspect me,” Fraser exploded.

“Depends how you put it. It’s a serious business, accusing a nurse of tampering with a patient – surely you’d have heard about it on the grapevine?”

Fraser took a breath. “I don’t like it,” he said.

“I understand that,” Tom said, “But for the moment, the way we are, we’re stuck.”

Fraser said nothing.

Jo said, “I’m not giving any more unauthorised injections. Next time, I’ll be caught.”

Fraser pressed his lips together. “You’re ganging up on me,” he said.

Tom said, “If she’s innocent, as you say she is, then she won’t notice anything and there’s no harm done.”

“And if she isn’t?”

“Then she may show it. If she does, there’s still no reason for her to suspect you of anything. It depends on how you put it. I’ll help you with that.”

Fraser capitulated.

*

The day went slowly. Jo tried to sleep and Fraser fought his way through the clinic.

He was about to leave when he saw George Woodvine come out of Philip’s room. George looked up, caught sight of him and came quickly over.

“Fraser,” he said quietly, “Can I have a word?”

“Sure,” said Fraser. He led him to his office.

“I’m not quite sure how to put this,” George began after they’d sat down. There was none of his usual mimicry, Fraser noticed, “… Is Philip worried about something, d’you know?”

How to play this? “… It had crossed my mind,” he said carefully.

George nodded. “Mine too. I thought so at the meeting last week, and even more now. In fact, I’m rather worried myself … d’you have any idea of what might be wrong?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t. Have you tried Ranjid or Edwina?”

George gave a half chuckle. “Ranjid’s absorbed in his own troubles and Edwina wouldn’t notice till it bit her.” He sighed. “There’s something the matter and I feel a certain responsibility … would Helen have any idea, d’you think?”

Is
he
hinting
that
I
should
ask
her
… ?

“Well, she knows he’s got problems, but not, I think, what they are. Have you tried asking him?”

Another smile. “Yes – just now as a matter of fact. He denied, it, quite convincingly … but somehow, I remain unconvinced.”

His clear grey eyes looked into Fraser’s and Fraser had a sudden, strong urge to confide in him – no. Tom would kill him.

“I’m sorry I can’t be any help,” he said.

George nodded again. “It was a long shot, but thanks anyway.”

He got to his feet and so did Fraser. At the door, he said, “If you do hear anything, or think of anything … “

“I’ll let you know.”

George thanked him again and left.

Fraser walked slowly back to his flat, thinking about what Philip had said to him after the meeting …
The
thing
is
not
to
allow
yourself
to
be
corrupted
beyond
that
extent
…

But
what
extent? Had he realised what was going on?
Was
he
party
to
it
… ?

He showered and hung around in his flat before going to Helen’s house at eight. He made himself eat, left saying anything about Lily until they’d finished and she’d topped up their wine glasses.

He took a sip, then looked up. “I know what I was meaning to ask you,” he said. “I heard something odd today – is it true one of the nurses was caught injecting a patient with something they shouldn’t?”
Clumsy
,
clumsy
…

“Who told you that?”

“Oh … the one called Carrie.”

“Carrie Tucker,” Helen said. “I wonder how
she
found out …”

“Then it’s true?”

“Not the way you put it, no. It was your friend, Staff Nurse Farewell.”

“What friend?”

She said, “You’d know which one if you saw her, the new one with the big brown eyes and the
fuck
me
smile.”

Chance’d
be
a
fine
thing
… “Oh, the one who’s engaged?”

“That’s the one ... ” She gave him a fairly straightforward account.

“Well, it sounds as though it’s her word against the patient’s,” Fraser said when she’s finished.

“And I’d normally take her’s,” Helen said. “It’s just that there were needle marks on Mrs Stokes’ arms.”

“Well, I suppose she’s having blood samples, as well as injections?”

“Pretty much every day, but there were a lot that looked recent.”

“Did you try asking her – Mrs Stokes?”

Helen nodded. “She couldn’t remember.”

“Was she ill or anything afterwards?” Fraser asked.

“She was ill anyway - “

The phone went and she got up to answer it. Fraser heard her groan, then say, “All right, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Problems?” he said as she came back in.

“I’ve got to go in. They’ve lost the key to the controlled drugs cabinet and I’ve got the only one spare.”

“D’you want me to come with you?”

“No, you stay. I’ll be fifteen minutes, if that.”

A moment later, the front door slammed. He took another mouthful of wine, went over in his mind what she’d said … it was all perfectly plausible and natural, except for that comment about Jo’s smile …

A thought occurred to him - this was the first, and very likely the last, time he’d be alone in her house, and now that he had Tom’s keys, he could open the locked door … he jumped up and almost ran to the stairs.

It was spying, prying even …

But if he didn’t, he’d always wonder.

He tried the door. Locked. Pulled out the keys, selected one and tried it – too big. The next one fit the hole, but wouldn’t turn.

Feeling foolish, he tried a third and with a loud click, the lock sprang.

How long had she been gone? Five minutes, more …? He had another five at the outside, he thought, easing the door open.

It was dim and slightly musty. He fumbled for the light switch – and found himself in a picture gallery.

He realised immediately that the paintings must be her mother’s, and this was confirmed by the large framed photo standing on the cabinet at the far end of the room – a semi profile of a woman with the same high cheekbones and sultry mouth, although the discontentment in the downturned lips was even more marked.

He looked at the first picture. It was of a beach, like the one in the sitting room, with the same combination of muted colours and intense draughtsmanship, but his eyes were drawn to the cloud formation above it that swirled, Van Gogh like, and resolved into faces that leered down, mocking the figure that stood alone before the waves. Fraser looked closely – there was no doubt, it was the same girl, only now, she was pregnant.