Pestilence (11 page)

“I had a telephone call,” said Saracen.

“Really? Who?”

Saracen was slightly taken aback at Garten’s directness but he answered anyway. “Dave Moss at the County.”

“Ah yes, Dr Tang’s phone call,” said Garten. He seemed relieved that it had not been one of the A&E staff who had phoned Saracen.

“And what did Dr Moss tell you?” probed Garten.

“He thought that Chenhui had been left on her own in charge of A&E,” said Saracen looking directly at Garten.

“Hardly,” said Garten slowly and quietly, his eyes holding Saracen’s gaze as if looking for a challenge. The strained smile on his face was maintained as if carved in rock.

“How is she?” asked Saracen.

“Out for the count. She’ll feel better after a good sleep.”

“What happened exactly?”

“A sudden emotional outburst, complete loss of control. I blame myself of course; I should have seen it coming. She’s just not up to the job. I should have said something to the board months ago but I was sorry for her, wanted to give her every chance.” Garten looked at the floor in a display of mock self condemnation.

Saracen was glad that Garten was looking at the floor otherwise he might have seen the look of distaste on his face. He had never disliked Garten as much before as he did at that moment. He looked at Chenhui, sleeping peacefully and moved over to the bed to feel her pulse; it was slow and regular. He noted the drip feed going into her other arm and asked Garten, “What are you giving her?”

“Heminevrin.”

“That’s a bit drastic isn’t it?”

“I deemed it necessary,” replied Garten with more than a hint of coldness in his voice.

Saracen felt the temperature drop and changed the subject. “Sister Turner said something about Chenhui dealing with a death in A&E when all this came on?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. The man was dead on arrival.”

“I see, so it’s a complete mystery what triggered off Chenhui’s outburst?”

“Absolutely.”

“She does seem to have been under some kind of increased strain recently,” ventured Saracen.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” replied Garten.

Saracen got to his feet and said, “I’m here now, I’ll work Chenhui’s shift with you if you like.”.

“Wouldn’t hear of it old boy,” said Garten so quietly that Saracen thought he detected menace in it. ” You go on home.”

Saracen had to work hard to keep the astonishment off his face. “All right,” he said and left.

Saracen returned to A&E and phoned Dave Moss with an explanation of what had happened.

“That’s rough,” said Moss. “I sometimes feel like screaming myself. Where is she now?”

Saracen told Moss that Chenhui was under heavy sedation.

“Did you get what you wanted from Peter Clyde this morning?” asked Moss.

“No, the autopsy must have been one of Cyril Wylie’s.

“Couldn’t Clyde have checked Wylie’s files for you?”

“He tried. They were locked.”

Moss snorted and said, “That sounds like Cyril all right. Paranoid old bugger. How important is this?”

“Very,” replied Saracen.

“And you really can’t go through channels?”

“It’s not a case of avoiding channels,” said Saracen feeling uncomfortable about not confiding in Moss. “It’s just that I don’t want Garten to know I’ve been asking about the case.”

“Oh I see,” said Moss. “It’s one of Garten’s cases. I can see the problem. Moss knew about Saracen’s past dealings with authority. “Look, I can’t promise anything but give me the patient’s name and I’ll see what I can come up with. Wylie is doing a PM for us tomorrow. If I get a chance to nip into his office while he’s occupied I will do.”

“I’d be in your debt,” said Saracen. “The name is Myra Archer. She died on the night of the twelfth.”

“Anything in particular you want me to look for?” asked Moss.

“The cause of death was given as cardiac arrest and she was also said to be suffering from a Salmonella infection. I’d like to know if the PM confirmed that or if there was more to it.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Saracen put down the phone thoughtfully. Moss’ offer was something he had not foreseen; he made a mental note to buy him dinner.

“Will you be working tonight Dr Saracen?” asked Sister Turner who had come up behind him. Saracen took pleasure in watching the flicker of surprise appear on her face when he replied that Garten would be covering A&E on his own. A comment almost passed her lips but Saracen saw her stifle it and replace it with a professional “Very good Doctor.”

“About the death that Dr Tang was asked to certify Sister?”

“There’s not much to say. The patient was one Leonard Cohen a sixty-four year old man, retired, living alone. He had been dead for a good few hours.”

“I take it the body is in the mortuary?”

“Yes, or rather, no. I mean I’m not sure.”

Saracen waited for her to explain.

“Dr Garten said something about the refrigeration system playing up again. He said he was going to contact a firm of undertakers to see if they could help out. I’m not sure if he did in all the commotion or whether the body is still there. You could ask the porter.”

Saracen found the duty porter tidying up a clutter of wheel chairs in the corridor outside X-Ray. He asked him about the dead man.

“The undertakers took him away about thirty minutes ago Doc. Was it something important?”

“I suppose not. Do you happen to know which firm it was?”

“Maurice Dolman and sons, Ventnor Lane.”

“Thanks. What’s wrong with the refrigeration anyway?”

Dr Garten said that the compressor was losing gas and the temperature was rising.”

Saracen nodded and turned away. He walked back along the corridor without seeing anything for his mind was working. It was happening again! Garten, Chenhui, a dead patient. What the hell was going on? He turned into A&E to say good night to the nurses but found it deserted. He could hear voices coming from the duty room where they were having tea.

Saracen was about to walk over when his gaze fell on the small wooden cupboard that held the mortuary key for the night porter. A moment’s hesitation then he gave in to the impulse to tip toe towards it and take it silently from its hook. He sidled out of the room again, holding his breath and grimacing with the concentration of moving soundlessly.

It had started to rain outside but that did not diminish Saracen’s relief at being safely out in the dark. He kept to the shadows and hurried down the hill to the mortuary to unlock the tall wooden doors and step inside.

Everything was still and silent. He felt for the light switch on the wall with his flattened palm and found it at the second attempt. It was loose in its mounting and a slight trickle of plaster fell to the floor when he pressed it. At first glance nothing appeared to be amiss but Saracen had to admit that he had no real idea of what he was looking for. He crossed the floor and examined the temperature gauge; the needle was reading high, just as it would if the compressor had failed. Saracen pulled back the heavy metal clamp on one of the body vaults and swung the door open to reveal the empty interior. He absent mindedly slid out one of the three trays and pushed it back with the heel of his hand before closing the vault and moving on to the next one. It was empty too, as was the third but the fourth and last one was not. There were two bodies inside.

Saracen stared at the white linen covered heads, unable to think why they should still be there. Why, if the compressor had really failed, had not all the bodies been removed? He pulled out each tray in turn and read the labels. Anne Hartman, Maud Finnegan. The shrouds were still cold but had started to feel damp with the rising temperature. Maybe there had been a number of bodies in the vaults thought Saracen and they were being transferred in relays. He found the mortuary register and checked on the idea. It proved wrong. There were only two bodies listed for the vaults, Hartman and Finnegan and they were still there so only one body could have been taken away by the undertakers, that of Leonard Cohen, Chenhui’s dead on arrival case. It was beginning to look as if the story of a compressor failure had been a subterfuge for the quick removal of Cohen’s body from the hospital. On the other hand the refrigeration unit did seem to be out of action.

Saracen examined the small door in the housing that covered the machinery and saw that it was secured by three screws. He fetched a screwdriver from the tool drawer and undid them. There was no smell of burning or any sign of damaged wiring so he began a systematic check. He traced the path of the main cable to the motor and then all the lines to subsidiary units and switches, finding nothing amiss until he looked at the mounting panel. There was a hole in it.

Saracen took a closer look and saw that the hole should have held a circuit breaker fuse. It had been removed. Could that be all that was wrong with the unit? he wondered, excited at the thought of having discovered deliberate sabotage. He searched through the tool drawer again and found a replacement fuse and holder but fitting it was going to be awkward for the panel was tucked up behind the wiring loom of the motor. He tried first from the right hand side but found that he could not reach so he changed his position on the floor and reached in with his left hand. He could almost reach the panel; just another few centimetres would be enough. He altered position slightly again and pressed his cheek up against the side of the unit to give himself the extra distance but, as he did so, he caught sight of something black on the floor. It was the toe of a shoe. Someone was standing behind him!

The shock of the discovery made Saracen jerk his hand back and in doing so he touched the live wiring on the side of the motor. The mains voltage shot through him like a shower of arrows flinging him backwards across the floor to land in an ungainly heap.

Fear took precedence over pain in Saracen’s head. He looked up and saw Nigel Garten looking down at him as if he were a stain on the ground.

“What on earth do you think you are doing?” demanded Garten.

“I thought I could fix the fridge,” replied Saracen weakly.

“We have engineers for that sort of thing,” said Garten coldly, “Unless this is a particular hobby of yours?”

Saracen felt foolish and it made him aggressive. “I think someone removed the circuit breaker,” he said, staring Garten straight in the eye.

“I did,” said Garten calmly. “The compressor was leaking gas. I didn’t want anyone switching the unit back on and ruining it.”

“I see,” said Saracen, feeling more foolish than ever. “Perhaps you can also tell me why only one body was removed and why two were left behind?”

Garten stared down at Saracen in silence then he said slowly, “I beg your pardon?”

“I asked why only one body had been removed and two left behind,” said Saracen, feeling intimidated.

“Could it be that the undertakers’ vehicle can only accommodate two bodies at the one time? Three bodies equals…two trips?”

“Could be,” agreed Saracen quietly and now feeling absolutely ridiculous. He got to his feet and started to brush himself down for his clothes were in a mess. Garten looked at him distastefully and said curtly, “I’ll bid you good-night. Lock up before you go.”

Saracen went back to the locker room in A&E to change his clothes for he kept a spare set there as necessary insurance against periodic dousing with blood, vomit or whatever. Mercifully he met no one and was able to leave again without having to offer an explanation to anyone. As he left the building a posse of policemen were escorting four drunken men through the swing doors. They had been involved in some kind of violent confrontation by the look of them and two were still trying to get at each other. “All the best Nigel,” said Saracen under his breath as he got into his car and started the engine.

When he had got over the burning embarrassment of having been discovered in the mortuary by Garten, Saracen saw that he could still be right. The removal of the circuit breaker might still have been the only thing wrong with the refrigeration unit. Garten’s glib explanation might have been nothing more than a lie. It could still all have been an excuse for the quick removal of Cohen’s body. But why? Unlike Myra Archer Cohen was definitely dead when he arrived at Skelmore General so there was no question of any mistake having been made or any delay being involved this time. What was Garten afraid of? Saracen decided that there was now a second post-mortem report he would have to take a look at.

Sudden death demanded an inquest unless the victim’s general practitioner felt able to sign the death certificate. A hospital doctor could also sign but would not in the case of a patient who was dead on arrival. In that instance a post-mortem would be a sine qua non for establishing the cause of death and the subsequent issuing of a death certificate. With luck Dave Moss would get a look at the PM report on Myra Archer in the morning and let him know what it said. Maybe that would shed some light on things.

Saracen had an idea. If he got a move on in the morning he could contact the undertakers, Maurice Dolman and Sons, and arrange to examine Leonard Cohen’s body himself! That would be better then just waiting for the report on the autopsy. To hell with Garten and to hell with the consequences. He had to know what was going on.