Deadly Diagnosis

by Mairi Chong

  Marie looked surprised. ‘Now, that’s a while back, but yes, I remember, of course. It was the talk of the town for a long time, and the newspaper people were everywhere, taking photos and asking questions. Not that they got much, I don’t suppose. I was married then, but not working. I don’t recall the details of the fire. Back then, the town was quite different.’

  ‘A man died,’ Holly said. She watched the old woman shake her head sadly.

  ‘There was no suspicion of anyone else being involved though, from what I remember. It was a horrible thing all the same. Just a dreadful accident. The police looked for witnesses I’m sure, in the beginning, but I think it was assumed that the doctor had been up in the building and had possibly been smoking. They really shouldn’t have, even back then because of the oxygen being so flammable. Anyway, after that, the place started to close down. It was more of a mental home than a mental hospital. Quite outdated really and closing it was long overdue. Some people had been in there for far too many years. They’d never put folk like that in hospital these days. That’s what I remember anyway.’

  ‘I see,’ Holly said. ‘Was Thomas in the hospital ever?’

  ‘Oh no,’ the old woman said without hesitation. ‘Not that I knew of anyway. His mother was, I believe. She was a poor crater. Very sad. I suppose he went up to visit when he was very young, but she was no use to him. It probably only confused him going to see her.’

  ‘And Betty?’

  ‘Well, you already know she was matron up there for a good number of years. Very strict, but good at her job. Fair, if you know what I mean?’

  Holly nodded.

  ‘Marie,’ she said. ‘I think that Betty’s death had something to do with the fire at the old psychiatric hospital.’ Holly looked out of the window at the house opposite where Betty had lived. When she spoke again, it was more to herself than Marie. ‘But I’m still struggling to make the connection. I know that they are linked, without a doubt, but how? The fire. Was it deliberately set?’

  Marie rested back in her chair. ‘And you said before, that you think the same person might have purposely run over Thomas last night? Do you think they wanted to kill him then?’

  ‘It’s a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?’ Holly said. ‘He’d been singing and shouting up and down the streets about knowing who killed Betty. Then he gets hit by a car.’

  ‘And does he?’ Marie asked. ‘Does he really know who it was?’

  ‘It was all just drunken talk. I asked him if he thought he’d been targeted, and he couldn’t say. Just told me he knew it was his time to die. He’s obsessed with time and numbers, isn’t he?’

  ‘He’s always been that way, ever since I remember,’ Marie said. ‘He’s like a magpie for times and dates and so on. If he ever lets you look inside his bag, you’ll see them all. Scraps of paper with jotted down notes of numbers. He must have been collecting them for years and years. You care about him, don’t you?’ she asked.

  Holly felt her cheeks redden. Perhaps in Thomas, she had recognised a fellow outcast. Maybe the unfairness of his treatment reminded her of herself. It was ironic, given how many lies she told herself, but justice was important. ‘You always back the underdog,’ her mother had once commented. At the time, Holly hadn’t understood, but now she was older, she knew why.

  Marie made a bit of a fuss when she said she was leaving. She insisted on her taking away a homemade steak pie and a cherry cake. The old woman said that she needed feeding up. Holly wondered if she had ever had children of her own. There were no photographs of toothy grandchildren. Sad, Holly thought, given how maternal the woman was. She took the offerings, balancing the two dishes as she closed the old lady’s door. She supposed that she must have looked a bit of a state, for Marie to offer them to her. All the same, she knew that she couldn’t stomach food that night.

  Having left the house, Holly made her way back along the street. The cars and their headlights came and went. Her feet beat a well-trodden path. The high street was chaotic, as shoppers and people rushing home from work, darted in and out of doorways. Car doors opened and slammed shut, and the swish of tyres on mud-spattered gutters came and went.

  For the life of her, she still couldn’t understand the connection between Betty’s killer and the tragedy at the old hospital all those years ago. Of course, she had assumed that the fire had been an accident. What if it really had been a deliberate fire? What if, rather than allowing the psychiatrist to perish, someone had deliberately lured him there? Holly recalled Neil’s words. ‘They all close ranks,’ he had said of the doctors. Holly doubted if an entire group of skilled professionals could turn their backs. She sighed. Had Betty been the killer? Had she locked the psychiatrist in the building and allowed him to die? Was that why she was murdered, out of revenge? But why would Betty do such a thing?

  Betty had been such an odd person in many ways; secretive and manipulative in her day-to-day dealings with people, even as an old woman. Holly thought of all of the people who had disliked her, and all of the reasons they had to do so. She recalled her dogmatic approach in dealing with Carol and Tricia over the till. Then there was Neil, and even Alex, who Holly suspected had been the recipient of her mild intimidation, or at worst, blackmail. Neil, for his immoral practices in selling on charitable donations for great profit, and Alex, for his murky motives in leaving his job. Without the hospital fire even being part of it, they all had a reason to dislike or even fear the old woman. Even she, Holly. Perhaps she had a greater reason than them all.

  25

  ‘Good morning,’ Cathy said, entering the charity shop.

  The woman behind the front desk seemed flustered. She had a spiral notebook in front of her and appeared to have been crossing something out. She pushed this to the side and turned to smile.

  ‘Oh hello, can I help?’

  ‘I was hoping to speak to someone about fundraising, and to offer mine, well, our, services, in a way. I’m Dr Moreland from the medical practice up the road. Elizabeth Scott was my patient and before she died, she had come in and asked me to help. I thought, out of respect I might …’

  ‘Well, how kind,’ the woman said. She clapped her hands together in delight. ‘Tricia,’ she called, and from the back of the shop, another woman of more substantial and determined proportions appeared.

  ‘Carol?’ the other woman asked. ‘Anything up?’

  ‘Yes, look who’s come to help! A doctor from the surgery. We haven’t had the pleasure,’ she waffled.

  Cathy smiled. Perhaps she was making a big mistake coming here, but she couldn’t just sit and do nothing. She’d called the police that morning. All in hand, they had reassured her. Yes, they’d heard about Mr Hogg’s misfortune. ‘A little more than misfortune,’ Cathy had said but she could tell by the tone of his voice, that the police officer was getting annoyed. ‘If you’d just leave us to do our job, Doctor,’ he had said. ‘I’m sure we’d get things done a lot faster.’

  ‘So, Betty had been in and asked before she died, had she? She never told us, did she Tricia?’ the woman said, grinning and nodding at her assistant. ‘And I was crossing out her name in the book just now, going through all the days she’d put herself down to work too. Terribly sad. But now the doctor’s come to offer to help and what a blessing that will be. Was it the tombola that Betty mentioned? We’ve had a good number of donations but we were hoping for a big turnover this year. We’re trying to make it our best yet,’ she explained. ‘The charity shop’s takings go centrally, you see? The little fundraisers that we do in our own time, under the charity name, are for us. Well, not us personally, of course,’ she laughed. ‘Our locality, you see? That’s why it’s so vital we do well.’

  ‘And Betty came in and asked?’ the woman called Tricia enquired again.

  ‘Well, she was seeing me anyway, but yes, she said she wanted help.’ Cathy smiled. ‘Perhaps if I asked at the surgery? Maybe the other staff? What kind of donations are you looking for? Booze? Gifts? That sort of
thing?’

  Carol was nodding enthusiastically. ‘Oh yes, anything of that sort. Nothing too ordinary, if you see what I mean? I was going to be cheeky and ask, but I’m afraid you might say no …’

  Cathy waited.

  ‘Well, seeing as you’re here, I might as well ask. It’s probably against the rules, but might you find a little place to put up a few posters? I know that you can’t show interest in a particular charity really, but seeing as it was Betty who asked in the first place …’

  ‘I don’t know …’ Cathy began.

  ‘Out of respect for the old lady,’ Carol continued, her eyes flashing with enthusiasm. ‘It would be a nice tribute.’ She moved the A4 notebook to the side and reached below the front desk. Before Cathy could refuse, she was unravelling a tube of printouts.

  Cathy felt sick. ‘Alright,’ she said. ‘I’ll see what I can do with them. We don’t usually, as a rule.’

  Carol clapped her hands together again in delight. ‘Well, there you go, and I thought you’d refuse. How wonderful. Isn’t it wonderful, Tricia? We’ve been wracking our brains over how to get the word out there, and the surgery has such heavy footfall. Of course, the fundraising’s all rather fallen by the wayside what with poor Betty’s death and the investigation.’

  Cathy nodded. ‘Yes, I am sorry. It must have been a shock. Had she worked here a long time then?’

  ‘Before I started, and you Tricia, wasn’t it?’ Carol said.

  ‘She used to be a nurse; I believe?’ Cathy asked.

  ‘Oh, a long time ago that was, of course. Poor Betty. No, she was fairly getting on,’

  Cathy smiled. ‘But still very much all there,’

  ‘True enough,’ Carol said. ‘Although sometimes she got muddled. Not the easiest to work with though, as you might imagine. Stuck in her ways.’

  Tricia nodded in agreement.

  Cathy saw a man now hovering through by the back door. Carol must have seen also because she called to him. ‘Neil, come through and get Alex and Holly. This is the doctor from up the road. She’s offering to help with the tombola.’

  From the back of the shop, the man who Cathy now knew was Neil, approached. She thought she recognised him, but couldn’t recall having seen him professionally recently.

  ‘Alright Doc?’ he asked, and Cathy smiled and nodded.

  Behind him, she saw a young woman emerge, closely followed by another man. Before Cathy could stop herself, she gasped.

  The man looked just as dumbfounded.

  ‘Alex?’ she said in disbelief, and then smiling, she shook her head. ‘You won’t remember me, probably, will you?’ she said. ‘I’m an old friend of Sally’s from med school. I’ve only just seen her a couple of weeks ago too. A reunion dinner.’

  ‘My God,’ the man said as he came out into the shop.

  Cathy thought the young woman beside him looked irritated, and she wondered why, but Alex was looking her up and down now and smiling.

  ‘So, you stayed in the area after leaving medical school, did you?’ Alex asked. ‘And how are you, Cathy? I remember you, of course. I can’t believe it. It must be near enough ten years. You look fine. Are you well?’

  By now, the group of volunteers were looking on in amazement.

  ‘We should meet up sometime,’ Alex said, glancing around.

  ‘Sure. Yes,’ Cathy said. ‘That would be good. I came in to offer help. I certainly didn’t expect to find you here.’

  ‘Long story,’ Alex said. He looked at the young woman behind him, and Cathy wondered how the two of them were connected.

  ‘Well, I had better go. Nice to see you, Alex,’ she said, feeling that the mood in the shop had changed somewhat since she had first come in. ‘Here’s my number if you’re free for a coffee. I was asking Sally after you. I wondered; you see?’

  ‘Yes, I see,’ Alex said, and his cheeks reddened.

  ‘Nice to meet you all,’ Cathy said.

  But Carol wasn’t finished. ‘Before you go,’ she said, leaning across the desk. ‘Here. If you’re a member of the team and helping us out, you’d better wear this.’ She held out a ribbon, with a pin attached to the back. ‘It’s for the charity,’ the woman explained.

  ‘Oh, thanks,’ Cathy said, now desperate to leave. She took the pin badge and slipping it into her pocket, left.

  She spent all that day thinking about her visit to the charity shop and her surprise discovery there. Suzalinna was correct. She had always had rather a thing for Alex when he was dating Sally and if anything, age had only served to improve him.

  Arriving home after work, she forced herself to consider the rest of the volunteers in turn. That had been the real reason for her visit, after all. Carol, it seemed, was the principal helper. Cathy paused as she poured herself a mug of tea. She stirred the teabag around and around, watching as the liquid darkened. She carried her drink through to the living room and sat down. Was Carol in the frame then? The over-anxious do-gooder; could she be a potential murderer? It all seemed unlikely, but then Betty’s death and the possible attempted murder of Thomas Hogg were just as outlandish.

  Cathy had called the hospital twice that day to ask after the man. He had been in theatre the first time she had rung, apparently having his leg re-positioned as the fracture was unstable. Cathy had been more concerned about his neck and back, but the senior registrar that she spoke to said that Thomas had been lucky. He laughed about the pen trick she had used to treat the tension pneumothorax and told her that the A and E staff had been quite surprised when Thomas had come in. The talk of the hospital, it had been that evening. Cathy hung up feeling reassured. At least, it seemed, Thomas was safe for now.

  Cathy knew that Betty had believed there was danger in the charity shop, and the answer to her death must surely lie there. It helped of course, that she now had a reason to speak to the volunteers with the silly tombola to assist with. Cathy wondered if this had been Betty’s plan all along. Had the old woman, cunningly given her a route in? Perhaps she had hoped that Cathy too, might see the potentially alarming individual and, as a doctor, spot the signs and know what to do.

  Nothing had sprung out at her though when she had visited. The woman Tricia was vaguely familiar, as was the older man who had come through the shop. Neil, she thought Carol had called him. They were possibly patients, but she couldn’t recall seeing them recently anyway. She definitely hadn’t seen the po-faced younger woman before. Cathy had forgotten what she had been called. Pretty, she thought, but without a doubt, brooding. Of all of the volunteers, it was she who looked the most out of place.

  Cathy knew that the best way to find out everyone’s story was through Alex, although she hated to pump him for inside information. It was, however, an excellent opportunity to reacquaint herself with him. And Cathy did not have to wait long before she received the call. The unknown number flashed up on her mobile screen later that evening. The noise cut through the stillness of her own home, making her jump. She snatched up her phone and had to stop herself from answering on the second ring.

  When she heard Alex’s voice, though, she relaxed and laughed at her eagerness.

  ‘Cathy? Thank God you didn’t give me a false number. I wondered if you really wanted to catch up or if you were just being polite.’

  Alex, as she remembered, had never been one to play games. He had been straight with Sally the whole time they had been dating. He had treated her well, as far as Cathy could remember, often going out of his way to fit around her revision schedules or hospital placements, so that they could spend more time together. He had been working himself. A young police officer, back then. Cathy thought that Sally and he had met in a club on a night out. Probably during a medic pub crawl. There had been plenty of those. He had become a regular fixture on the medical scene, coming to dances and evenings out, and had even been given the honorary title ‘Dr Plod’ by one of Cathy’s friends. He was always the sober one, the voice of reason, and guaranteed to get them safely home at the end of the n
ight.

  ‘We should meet up,’ Cathy said simply, and he agreed that they should.

  ‘Is tomorrow too keen?’

  Cathy smiled and tried not to sound too pleased.

  When she hung up, having agreed on the specifics, she forced herself to remember that she was trying to find justice for Betty Scott and Thomas Hogg, not acquire a new love interest. Alex, after all, worked in the charity shop. It was an uncomfortable thought, but it put him as much in the frame as the rest of them.

  26

  Having woken early and eaten her way through Marie’s generous offerings that up until then, she had forgotten about, Holly returned to the charity shop with renewed determination. She knew now that the only thing for it was to find physical evidence. Thomas at least was safe in the hospital. The quicker she got to the bottom of things now, the better. The police had been in again, and it seemed that the blood found at The Court outside Thomas’s flats was definitely Betty’s. They spoke to Tricia for a while in private. Holly supposed it was because the silly woman had told them that she visited one of the pensioners up in The Court regularly. It was just one of her good deeds. Holly didn’t suppose the police distrusted her, but they probably wanted to see if she had seen anything suspicious while she was there.

  Holly had thought a good deal about the state of play. Until the police found something concrete, she felt that Thomas was still very much in the frame, despite his recent accident, which she assumed the police believed to be just that. She knew that the evidence could lie nowhere other than in one place. But how would she pull the damn thing off?

  In the end, she decided on a story.

  ‘Heavens,’ Carol said with real concern when she told her. ‘When were you last wearing it, then?’