No Known Grave (27 page)

There was silence between them. When she spoke the almoner’s voice was low.

“The implication is that one of the patients might have drugged Sister Ivy … and then killed her.”

“I’m afraid that is a likely possibility.”

She swallowed hard. “It is almost impossible to contemplate.” Then she continued, “You said earlier there were three major things the coroner told you about. You’ve told me one. What are the other two?”

“Were you aware that Jock McHattie was taking morphine?”

She blinked. “Yes. I was. He experienced a lot of pain from his war injuries and the morphine had been prescribed for
some time. Our local doctor simply renewed the prescription when necessary.”

“Who gave him the injections? I presume he couldn’t do that himself?”

“His wife knew how, but when they came here from Scotland, he asked one of our orderlies to do it. He said Mrs. McHattie was too nervous.”

Something struck Tyler. “Which orderly?”

“Dai, the younger one.”

Dai, dark-haired and handsome. Not that Tyler would compare him to Walter Pidgeon, exactly, and he certainly wasn’t English gentry – but everything else fitted. The description, the proximity to the hotel, and especially the potential access to the morphine that the admirable Dr. Sargent had given to Miss Allthorpe for her migraine.

Tyler filled the almoner in on what Daisy had told him. Miss Allthorpe and the wonderful doctor from St. Anne’s who had cured her migraine with what sounded very much like a dose of morphine.

Again Sister Rebecca was quiet for a few moments. “I regret to say it, but that is plausible. A couple of weeks ago, Jock complained to me that his morphine injection didn’t seem to be as effective as usual. I know that patients can build up a tolerance to the drug and I assumed that was the reason. I asked his doctor to increase the dosage and he did so.”

“Could Hughes have siphoned off some of the morphine when he was giving Jock his injections?”

“It would not be hard to do, as it’s soluble in water. But for what purpose?”

“I don’t know for certain. It’s useful coinage on the black market,” Tyler said with a shrug. “Perhaps that’s what he was doing.”

“Even if Hughes has been stealing morphine, that does not
explain the barbiturate given to Sister Ivy. I told you how the medication is monitored. And why on earth would Dai Hughes want to kill Sister Ivy?”

“Again, I have no answer I can give you, Sister. I’m going to have a talk with him shortly, but before I do, there is that third thing I learned from Dr. Murnaghan.”

He described what they had discovered about the wounds to Jock and Ben. The double tap.

She stared at him. “You’re telling me that the assailant was trained as a commando?”

“There’s no doubt.”

“But who could it be? You’ve gone through the files. The only man close to being a commando is Vadim Bhatti. He was trained as a Gurkha. But he is most definitely on your
NOT ABLE
list. He’s completely blind.”

Tyler pursed his lips. “There’s absolutely no evidence of outside entry.”

“You said the killer would have been highly trained.”

“True. But where is he then? He has to live somewhere. And of course we keep circling back to the so far unanswered question. Why target Jock McHattie?”

Sister Rebecca shuddered. “We’re at a complete impasse, aren’t we? If the killer was a commando as you claim and not from outside the hospital, somebody has well and truly pulled the wool over our eyes.”

“I’d say that is the case, Sister.”

Again the silence was heavy between them. Then she said, “What now? Are you planning to arrest Dai Hughes?”

“Not at the moment. Frankly, he doesn’t strike me as the cold-blooded type. I don’t seriously suspect him of murder.”

“I’m relieved to hear it. Neither do I. To the best of my knowledge he has not had any military training. He and his brother are considered to be in reserved occupations. I always
thought this was something of a sore point for Dai. He would like to have the respect that soldiers get.”

“Nevertheless, I am most certainly going to have a talk with him.”

“Shall I fetch him?”

“If you would.” Tyler got to his feet. “While you do that, I’m going to have one of my constables pop in at the Wheatsheaf and bring the mysterious Mrs. Sargent down here. We can arrange a little confrontation.”

Constable Mortimer was leaning back with her eyes closed in one of the armchairs. The common room was deserted except for Alfie Fuller, who was mopping the floor. He beamed at Tyler as if they were the best of friends.

Mortimer woke up as soon as he approached.

“Sorry, sir. Having a bit of shut-eye.”

“I’ve got a job for you, Constable.” He told her what he wanted her to do. “You might as well use the motorcycle.”

“Yes, sir. What if the lady in question refuses to come with me?”

“Persuade her, Constable. That’s part of your job.”

“Is it? I didn’t realize that, sir, but I’ll do my best.”

There was that tone again.

“The young woman could be most important to our investigation, and I want to talk to her. So in this instance, perhaps you could surpass even your best.”

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

She looked rattled, but Tyler left her to get herself sorted out and returned to the office to wait for Dai Hughes.

48.

T
YLER GAVE THE ORDERLY PERMISSION TO SMOKE AND
the young man’s face was almost obliterated by the fog from the cigarette that he drew on as if it were oxygen itself.

Tyler let him stew for a bit longer, then said, “Mr. Hughes, do you know a woman by the name of Miss Allthorpe?”

Hughes clearly wasn’t expecting that question and he actually flinched. “Allthorpe? No, can’t say I do.”

“What about a doctor by the name of Sargent?”

“No. Never heard of him either.”

Tyler leaned forward until he was very close to the young man’s face.

“Begging your pardon, Mr. Hughes, but I’d say you’re not a very good liar.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Tyler shoved aside the ashtray, plucked the cigarette end from Hughes’s fingers and stubbed it out.

“I think you do. Miss Allthorpe is the proprietor of the Wheatsheaf, and according to her she has guests, a doctor and his wife. The doctor says his name is Sargent and that he works here at the hospital.”

Hughes didn’t speak.

Tyler continued. “Now we both know there is no such person working here. Registering at a hotel under a false name in time of war is an offence. I could charge you.”

“That has nothing to do with me,” said Hughes sullenly.

“I think it does. However, what I’m more concerned about, Mr. Hughes, is the morphine you have been pilfering from the
hospital. Now that is a worse crime. And unless you convince me otherwise, it
is
something I’m going to charge you with.”

That did get a response.

“What? I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Let me elucidate. I believe you were siphoning off liquid morphine from Jock McHattie’s nightly injections. You administered some of the drug to one Maud Allthorpe, the proprietor of the Wheatsheaf, where you have been visiting on a regular basis, using the alias Dr. Sargent.”

Hughes had obviously decided to bluster his way out of this pickle.

“This is all a pile of shite, look you.”

“The almoner says that Mr. McHattie was complaining about his morphine being less effective. Was that because you were giving him a less potent dose?”

“No.”

“I need hardly remind you that Jock McHattie has been murdered,” said Tyler. “Did you shoot him to make sure he didn’t reveal what you’d been doing?”

Hughes met Tyler’s eyes directly this time. He had gone white. “Good Lord. Of course I didn’t.”

Before they could go any further, there was a rap on the door.

Tyler went to answer. Constable Mortimer was standing outside with an older woman beside her. She was grey-haired, suntanned, and sturdy-looking.

“Sir, this is Miss Allthorpe,” Mortimer said quietly. “She kindly agreed to accompany me. Apparently, Mrs. Sargent has had to deal with a family emergency and she checked out of the hotel this afternoon. I thought perhaps Miss Allthorpe would be able to make an identification for us equally as well.”

The other woman shuffled her feet. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Why are the police involved? Dr. Sargent is
an absolute gentleman. He’s only one week in arrears and I trust him to make good the bill when he can.”

Tyler nodded at her reassuringly. “Thank you for coming, Miss Allthorpe. I’m not at liberty to explain everything at this moment. I would ask you to come into the room with me. If you recognize the man in the chair, I’d like you to tell me his name.”

“Very well.”

Tyler stepped back into the room and Miss Allthorpe followed. When she saw Dai Hughes, she beamed.

“Hello, Doctor.”

Dai looked at her in dismay and didn’t respond.

“Miss Allthorpe,” said Tyler, “is this gentleman sitting here the person you know as Dr. Sargent?”

“That’s correct.” She glanced anxiously at Hughes. “Is everything all right, Doctor? It’s not about the medicine, is it?”

The orderly had the grace to duck his head. “No, it’s not. Thank you, Miss Allthorpe.”

Tyler pulled out a chair for the proprietor to sit in. She perched on the edge.

“Miss Allthorpe, I understand that this gentleman has a wife who has been residing at your hotel?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know if the gentleman visited his wife on Tuesday night?”

“Yes, he did. I am a light sleeper and I heard him come in shortly before midnight. I leave the door on the latch if I know guests will be late.”

“Do you know what time he left?”

“It was just getting light. I … er, I felt sorry that he had to work so early.”

“And you are certain it was this gentleman and not another of your guests?”

“Certain. Dr. Sargent’s room is down the hall from my own. I heard him go past on the way to the stairs.”

Hughes was leaning forward in his chair, his head in his hands.

“What about last night?” asked Tyler. “Did the gentleman spend the night at the Wheatsheaf?”

“Yes, he did. I had left out a bit of supper for him and the empty tray was on the counter when I got up.”

Tyler smiled at her reassuringly. “He brought you some medicine for your migraine, did he not?”

“He did. My headache vanished right away.”

“But he didn’t say what this medicine was?”

“No.” Miss Allthorpe blinked. “I do hope he’s not in trouble because of that. It was only one occasion.”

Tyler got to his feet. “Thank you, Miss Allthorpe. You have been most helpful.”

She, too, stood up. She addressed the orderly. “I’m so sorry to hear about your mother-in-law, Doctor. I hope she soon recovers.”

Hughes’s head jerked up. “What? What do you mean?”

“Mrs. Sargent said she had an urgent telegram this morning to say that her mother is seriously ill. She had to leave at once for Manchester.”

Hughes gaped at her. “Polly has gone?”

“Yes, Doctor. This afternoon … She took her things.”

“Did you see the telegram yourself?” Hughes asked.

“No, Doctor. I was out at the shops when it arrived.”

He turned away. “How could she?” he whispered.

Tyler noticed he was not speaking with the slightest trace of a posh English accent.

As he walked her over to the door, Tyler said, “Thank you for coming in, Miss Allthorpe. I’ll have Constable Mortimer drive you back to the hotel.”

She beckoned to him. “May I have a word, Inspector?”

He followed her out of the room and closed the door behind him.

“He deceived me, didn’t he? They both did. He’s not a doctor at all, is he?”

“No, he’s not, Miss Allthorpe. He’s one of the orderlies here.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “He must have taken me for a right old fool. Why would he concoct such a story?”

“Perhaps he thought it was the only way he could get a place where he could install his mistress. You might not have accepted him if he didn’t pretend to be a married doctor.”

“No, I wouldn’t have. I run a respectable establishment.” She wiped at her eyes. “Nevertheless, he did cure my migraine. I suppose I can be grateful about that.”

Tyler delivered her back into the care of Constable Mortimer and returned to the office.

Hughes hadn’t moved. Tyler sat down in front of him.

“Shall we start again, Mr. Hughes? With the truth this time.”

49.

D
AISY
S
TEVENS WAS UNABLE TO SLEEP
. S
HE
’
D GONE
to bed at ten, but she felt wide awake. Was it the passionate, deep kiss she had exchanged with Jeremy when they said good night?

He’d called her into the shadow of the hall. “Can anybody see us, Daisy?”

“No. Not at the moment,” she replied.

“Kiss me then, my love. Kiss me as if we are never going to meet each other again.”

“Stop talking like that. Tomorrow we’ll go into town and find a hotel or a room.”

He shook his head. “No, you were right, Daisy. We should get properly married and we can go anywhere we want. We don’t have to be sneaking around. Let’s get a special licence right away.”

Daisy hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Sure as Niagara Falls is sure. Look, I’m saying it formally. Daisy Stevens, will you do me the honour to be my wife, till death us do part?”

Daisy giggled. “I do.”

“Sooner the better then.”

“Sooner the better, you impatient man, you.”

They had kissed again and again he caressed her tenderly. Daisy heard somebody coming up the stairs and she broke away breathlessly.

“Tomorrow then. I’ll go straight off and get us a licence.”

“Let’s hope nobody gets themselves killed in the meantime. We might all be quarantined.”

It was Sister Rachel who had come up the stairs.

“Now then, you two, time for beddy-byes. Mr. Bancroft, I’ll wheel you in. Miss Stevens, you’ll be all right on your own steam, I presume?”