Midnight Murders (20 page)

‘What happens if there's only one member of staff on a ward at night?' Jean asked.

‘We have a minimum of four staff members working on a ward at any given time,' Tony insisted.

‘Only in theory,' Alan contradicted. ‘Even during the day we can drop to one if two staff take a meal break and another has to take a patient to therapy. And at night, if someone's sick we're often down to one.'

‘If there are problems get on the phone to me, and I'll get an agency nurse over,' Tony replied.

‘At night?' Alan persisted.

‘I'll look at the staffing ratios after this meeting. If there's a shortage I'll book extra agency nurses.'

‘Halleluiah!' Jean said loudly.

‘There'll be a police presence close to every nurses' hostel, every ward, throughout the grounds, and in the old hospital building,' Dan said. ‘And the Trust is issuing every member of staff, male and female, with personal alarms. If you should see something suspicious, use it. I'd rather see a red-faced person who's tripped up and accidentally set it off than another corpse.'

‘What about the patients?' Alan asked.

‘Mr Waters is arranging for headcounts to be carried out every two hours.'

A series of groans greeted his words.

‘I know it'll be a bind.' Dan held his hands up for silence. ‘But Mr Goldman convinced us that it isn't practical to issue the patients with alarms.' A burst of laughter rocked the room. ‘If you could all make your way to one of the tables, where you will be issued with your alarm, and be able to make a statement to one of the officers… '

‘And a good time was had by all.' Peter watched the queues form.

One woman, alarm in hand, hesitated for a moment in front of the door. Trevor, who had stood at the side of the hall with the constables, noticed her hanging back.

‘Can I help you?' he asked.

‘You're Sergeant Joseph, aren't you? I'm Angela Morgan, Tony Waters' secretary.' She glanced over her shoulder to check that her boss was still engrossed in his discussion with Bill. ‘Could you give Inspector Evans a message for me?' she continued nervously. ‘Tell him I'll meet him after work today – but not in the Green Monkey, in – in the – '

‘Where do you live?' Trevor interrupted.

‘The marina.'

‘How about the pump house on the marina at six?'

‘It may be nothing but… '

‘The Inspector will be there.'

‘Thank you.' Clutching her personal alarm she hurried out of the door.

Dan took Peter to the pub with him. They walked in at a quarter to six and Peter picked up the menu.

‘We're working,' Dan rebuked.

‘And I'm starving. There's no rule that says a copper can't eat during an interview.'

‘All right,' Dan capitulated. ‘If they do sandwiches, I'll have one too.'

‘Leave it to me.' Peter went to the bar and ordered two twelve-ounce steaks, with chips and peas, and two pints of beer, while Dan sat at a secluded corner table.

‘What's the cutlery for?' Dan asked suspiciously when Peter returned.

‘Open sandwiches.' Peter lied.

They'd almost finished their beers when Angela Morgan turned up at ten minutes past six, with her husband.

‘Sorry I'm late, Sergeant… '

‘Peter,' he corrected, recognising a press reporter at the bar. He rose to his feet. ‘What are you drinking?'

‘I hope you don't mind me bringing my husband,' she gabbled nervously. ‘It's just that – '

‘Not at all,' Collins interrupted, wishing the woman would shut up before she attracted any more attention. ‘What are you drinking?' he repeated.

‘I'll have a...' she gazed blankly at the rows of bottles behind the bar.

‘A sweet white wine and a beer,' her husband volunteered for both of them.

Peter heard her piercing voice, as he ordered the drinks.

‘I hope you don't mind me bringing my husband, Inspector Evans. I brought him along for moral support – and I wasn't sure what I should tell you. It's not as if I have any actual proof. It's just that – well I don't know what you'd make of it.'

‘What exactly is it that you want to tell us, Mrs Morgan?' Dan Evans pressed.

‘Well, it's all those girls, isn't it?' she whispered in response to a gesture from Dan.

‘The victims?' Dan guessed.

‘He knew them all.' She lowered her voice again so Dan and Peter, who'd returned with the drinks, had to bend their heads to catch what she was saying. ‘They were all special to him in one way or another. Every one of them. And if you want my opinion,' her voice was now so low that they found it a strain to listen to her, ‘he was having affairs with all three of them. At different times, that is.'

CHAPTER TWENTY

Angela fell silent as the waitress set two large oval plates overflowing with steak and chips on to the table.

‘Sauce, vinegar, salt?' the girl enquired pleasantly.

‘Nothing, thank you.' Dan was annoyed at the interruption and Peter's interpretation of “sandwich”. But Peter's attention was riveted on the first decent meal he'd seen in days.

‘I'll have vinegar, salt and English mustard if you've got it, love.' He winked at the waitress. ‘Would you like something?' Peter asked the Morgans, the food in front of him making him uncharacteristically generous.

‘I put a casserole in the oven,' Angela said distractedly.

‘I presume that you were telling us about Mr Waters,' Dan prompted.

‘Mr Waters has a roving eye. And it's a pity – for the girls who get involved with him, I mean.' Angela wrapped her fingers around the glass of wine that Peter had bought her. ‘It's not as if there's only the one, or that he cared, really cared, for any of them. He couldn't, could he?'

‘Why not?' Peter asked, in between mouthfuls of steak.

‘Being married. But they all telephoned him… '

‘Did you ever listen in on their conversations?' Dan interrupted.

‘No, that wouldn't be right!' she exclaimed, affronted by the suggestion.

‘Never inadvertently overheard anything?' Peter offered her a legitimate excuse.

‘No.'

‘Yet you're sure he was having affairs with all three women?' Dan pushed three fat chips on to his fork.

‘There was the staff party last Christmas, when some of the nurses caught him and… '

‘And who?' Peter asked when she fell silent.

‘No one would say, but everyone had their suspicions. He was caught en flagrante as it were – stark naked in one of the rooms at the top of the old building – and – ' She turned crimson.

‘And?' Peter pumped mercilessly.

‘Who saw them?' Dan asked when she didn't reply.

‘I can't remember all of them, but one was that pretty nurse who works on the ward your friend's on.'

‘Jean?' Dan suggested.

‘No, the young one.'

‘Lyn Sullivan?' Peter supplied.

‘That's her.'

Dan took out his notebook and wrote down the name.

‘Sounds like damning evidence of adultery to me,' Peter stopped long enough to down the remainder of his beer.

‘It's his wife I feel sorry for.' Angela shook her head. ‘She's so pretty. And they've got everything. Beautiful house – you wouldn't believe how beautiful. Not that I've been inside, but I've seen pictures, and heard what other people say about it.'

‘You've told us about what might have been a one night stand. What makes you think Tony Waters had affairs with all three victims?' Dan asked.

‘The first one, Rosie Twyford, he used to take her home. I was sick for four months. I had a hysterectomy. I was ever so poorly… '

‘And Rosie?' Dan steered the conversation back on course.

‘Rosie Twyford was personal assistant to Mr Chalmers, and he was made redundant the same time I had my operation. So, she was sent down to cover for me. The girls who came to visit me in hospital used to joke that I wouldn't have a job to come back to because Rosie and Mr Waters were getting very friendly. He used to take her home after they both worked late.'

‘Do you often work late?' Peter intervened.

‘Not now,' Angela informed him. ‘Not with all the cutbacks, but we did then. It was just after we – the department that is – moved out of County Hall. I think that's why I had to have the hysterectomy. It was lifting all those heavy boxes… '

‘And Rosie Twyford used to work late along with Mr Waters?' Dan cut her short again.

‘She told the girls they were straightening the office. But when I came back to work and she had to return to the general office she had a nervous breakdown. Rumour had it because he'd lost interest in her. But when she was ill, he sent her flowers… '

‘Wouldn't any boss do that?' Dan asked.

‘I suppose so,' she agreed grudgingly.

‘Did he send you flowers when you were ill?' Peter lifted the last piece of steak to his mouth.

‘Yes,' she admitted. ‘But, it's not just Rosie Twyford. There's Claire Moon. Her father was important, and when that Sunday newspaper came to do a feature about her, Mr Waters took a great deal of interest in it.'

‘Wouldn't that be because he was wary about what the papers would print about the hospital?' Dan sprinkled salt on to his chips.

‘That's what I said.' Mr Morgan spoke for the first time since he and his wife had sat down.

‘But he used to walk around the grounds with her every chance he got,' Angela protested. ‘And a lot of people said that Elizabeth Moore was the nurse he was seen with at the staff party.'

‘I thought you said no one knew who it was?' Dan reminded her.

‘Not for certain,' Angela conceded. ‘But whoever she was, she had auburn hair and when I saw all three photographs up there, side by side this afternoon, I knew I had to talk to you. And Carol Ashford… '

‘Is she the jealous sort?' Peter stared at his empty plate.

‘I wouldn't say that,' Angela sipped her wine.

‘Does she often visit your offices to see Mr Waters?' Dan asked.

‘Hardly ever. If she does, it's only because of work.'

‘Do you think she knows about her husband's philandering?' Peter pushed his plate aside.

‘She must do, mustn't she?' Angela added as if she had only just considered the idea. ‘After all, it's common gossip around the hospital.'

‘Would you tell her?' Dan asked.

Angela looked at him vacantly.

‘Not many people would be prepared to tell a wife when her husband strays,' Peter explained.

‘I suppose they wouldn't,' she conceded.

‘Is there anything else you can think of? Anything you've seen, or heard?' Dan was still hoping for some hard facts.

‘You promise what I say will be treated in confidence?'

‘Yes,' Dan assured her.

‘Well, there is one other thing,' she glanced at her husband. He turned away. ‘When Mrs Hedley first went missing, Mr Waters wouldn't let anyone go into the electricity sub station in the cellar. I heard him have a real set-to with the engineer from the electricity people about it. But he still wouldn't let him in.'

‘What do you think?' Dan asked Peter after Angela Morgan and her husband had gone home for their casserole and a night of television. The two officers were sitting back nursing fresh pints of beer.

‘I think she's genuinely concerned,' Peter handed Dan one of his cigars.

‘Concerned and agitated enough to put two and two together and make eight.'

‘Probably. But if I were in charge of this investigation I'd get the forensic team to check the sub station all the same.'

‘I wouldn't ask if we weren't stretched, Trevor. And I'll get one of our men patrolling the grounds to call in every hour and check you're all right.'

‘I'll do it.' Trevor was amused to think that Bill, who last night had been prepared to believe he was a rapist and murderer, was now asking him to sit up all night to keep an eye on the ward.

‘Upstairs is demanding results.' Mulcahy justified his request, although Trevor had neither asked for, nor expected an explanation. ‘It might be helpful if you came to the briefing. Nine-thirty, in the mobile HQ.'

‘What about the ward when I'm at the briefing?'

‘I've two extra bodies assigned to every shift. I'll see that one of them is here.' Bill left Trevor's room and headed down the tunnel towards the old part of the hospital.

‘So you are working?'

Trevor turned to see Lyn in the corridor outside his room. ‘What makes you say that?'

‘Senior policemen in the middle of murder investigations don't have time to make social calls to the sick.'

‘If it was anything other than a case on the doorstep I wouldn't have been drafted in. But after what happened to Vanessa, it's all hands to the pumps.'

‘In case he strikes again?'

Trevor didn't answer.

‘You think he will strike again?'

‘Your guess is as good as mine.'

‘It's horrible to think that someone could be out there watching us.' She looked past him and stared out of the window.

‘You have every right to be terrified.'

‘I'm not usually jumpy. It's just that since Michael climbed up on to my window – and that meeting when I realised – '

‘When you realised that all four victims spent some on this ward?' he guessed.

‘The corpse in the garden last night didn't help.'

‘It didn't help anyone,' he instinctively put a hand to his head.

‘Was that the murderer?'

‘We don't know,' he said honestly. ‘No one saw anything except me, and I only spotted the body after it had been laid on the ground. But from now on you will have me and my trusty weapon to protect you.' He lifted the walking-stick Bill had returned to him. ‘And I give you my most solemn promise, Nurse Sullivan, that I won't allow anything to happen to you. Is that a good enough guarantee?'

‘As no one has offered me anything better, I'll accept it, Sergeant Joseph.' She walked across his room and closed the blinds against the twilight. ‘How about I make both of us a cup of coffee?'

‘It might work,' Bill said cautiously.

‘It's the most harebrained suggestion I've heard of,' Peter snorted. He and Dan had been in the mobile HQ for ten minutes, and already two of the girls in the outer office had gone off to take an early tea break, out of earshot of Peter and Bill's argument.

Bill folded his arms across his chest. ‘Let's see you come up with something better, Peter.'

‘When has a killer ever been caught by a ruse as basic as that outside of a TV show?' Peter derided. ‘The only way we're going to nail this villain is with police work. Dull, boring, routine police work.'

‘Our psychiatrist says… '

‘I might have known that one of your bloody Home Office shrinks dreamed up this one. Has he ever left his snug office and taken a short holiday in the real world?'

‘Shut up and listen for once in your life,' Bill roared. ‘We've been talking… '

‘Who's we?' Peter demanded. ‘Dan and I weren't consulted in any of this.'

‘The “we” being your superiors,' Bill informed him icily. ‘This case has developed a press profile almost as large as your bloody ego. We have to be seen to be doing something.'

‘By the press?' Peter sneered. ‘That's bloody marvellous. You put someone in undercover in the hope of flushing out a killer, then you call a press conference?'

‘Not the press,' Bill bellowed. ‘By the men upstairs and the Trust… '

‘Great. They sit on their backsides in an upholstered office, while we send some poor sod out as bait to catch a killer. Just remember Harries while you update those suits on our progress or lack of it. He proved great bloody bait, didn't he? We didn't even find enough of him to bury.' Peter referred to the last high profile case that had almost cost Trevor his life and had cost another officer his.

‘That was unfortunate… '

‘Unfortunate?' Collins reiterated. ‘You're talking to the officer who had to scrape what was left of Harries off his shoes.' He took a cigar from his top pocket, and pushed it between his lips. ‘I know I'm talking to the mentally deficient… '

‘One day you'll go too far, Peter, even for me.'

Peter softened his voice, but the anger remained etched in his eyes. ‘Who's won the lucky draw this time?'

‘We decided on more than one. We thought we'd try a member of the hospital staff as well as a patient.' Bill looked at Peter, expecting another outburst. When none came, he continued in a quieter vein. ‘We went through all the staff profiles looking for someone we could eliminate completely from our suspects.'

‘And?'

‘It wasn't easy. But Jean Marshall was with Trevor in the Greek Restaurant at the time of Vanessa Hedley's disappearance.'

‘Pity you didn't remember that last night,' Peter said frostily. ‘If you had, you might have saved Trevor some trouble.'

‘We called her in earlier,' Bill ignored Peter's barbs. ‘We explained what we're trying to do, then asked if she'd hand in her resignation, to take effect from a week today.'

‘Does anyone in the hospital have a clue as to what you're up to?' Peter asked.

‘No one besides Jean Marshall and these four walls.'

‘Not Harry Goldman or Tony Waters?'

‘No one,' Bill repeated. ‘The story is that she's decided to go to Canada, to spend a year with her married sister who lives out there.'

‘Does she have a married sister in Canada?'

‘Yes.'

‘And you expect everyone to swallow that?'

‘Everyone already has.'

‘Who's shadowing her?'

‘Michelle Grady.'

‘She's not even out of kindergarten. The girl's worse than useless. She thinks in terms of brownie badges.'

‘There'll be other back-up.'

‘Of the same kind Harries had?'

It was one crack too many. ‘If I were you I'd be looking to my stripes, Sergeant.' Bill's voice and temper rose precariously.

‘You said there was going to be more?'

‘Yes,' Bill replied shortly. ‘We're putting someone else in the same ward as Joseph.'

‘Who?'

‘Sarah Merchant. She volunteered,' Bill added, in an attempt to pre-empt Peter's objections.

‘You do know she was Harries' girlfriend?'

‘I didn't,' Bill admitted.

‘She could have volunteered because she's feeling suicidal – have you thought of that?'