by Paul Charles
Kennedy paused to allow Bowles to realise the game was up.
‘Three – you also knew that, because Berry was the doctor attending Susanne Collins at the time of her death, it was he – and not Burgess – who incorrectly took the blame for her death.’
‘Four – I also believe that, because you were party to the above information, you were also aware that Dr Burgess most probably murdered Dr Berry to keep this information secret.
‘Five…’ Kennedy had raised four fingers and now raised his thumb, ‘You are responsible for the fact that Mrs Sheila Berry is now a widow and young Sam Berry is fatherless. You’re responsible for the fact that Susanne Collins’ father and brother are now grieving.’
Kennedy changed hands.
‘Six…’
Kennedy was now shouting.
‘I think you’re a complete shit and you make me sick, utterly sick.’
But Bowles didn’t know when to give in. ‘My job, Inspector, is to look after the interests of the hospital…’
‘At the expense of people’s lives? My job is to make people like you aware that there are no “acceptable losses” – there will be no “limiting of liability”. You will – one way or another – pay for your sins.’
Bowles was starting to look severely uncomfortable. His top lip and forehead were leaking sweat.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘I thought that Dr Burgess had probably made a genuine mistake and by the time it had come to my attention, most of the storm had settled down. I can’t believe that you have any evidence that Burgess could have killed Berry. He was on duty that morning, he couldn’t have killed him. I assumed, like everyone else – everyone else except you, that is – that Dr Berry had committed suicide. I became slightly suspicious when Dr Burgess refused to discuss the matter with me. I then began to worry but thought, what good could it do to,’ said Bowles, desperate although subdued as the enormity of the Collins and Berry deaths sank in.
‘The truth must come out if Susanne Collins’ and Dr Berry’s families are to start to lay their loves ones’ memories to rest. They must try to put their lives in order. That’s what good it would have done.’
Kennedy had nothing more to say to Bowles.
‘Oh, take him away, put him somewhere and I’ll decide what to do with him later,’ he commanded.
Chapter Forty-Seven
‘Okay – bring him to the interrogation room immediately. I’ll meet you there, Jimmy.’ Kennedy was speaking through the intercom to Irvine.
‘Yes, Dr Burgess. Please come in and sit down,’ Kennedy gestured.
‘I hope you realise that I’m a busy man, and hospitals do not run themselves. First, Mr Bowles and now myself,’ Burgess huffed indignantly.
‘Dr Burgess – I think the hospital is going to have to do without you for quite some time,’ Kennedy replied patiently.
‘What on earth are you on about? What’s this all about?’
‘Oh – I think you know, Doctor. But let’s pretend you don’t know. Let’s play the game your way. Why don’t you just sit there, keep quiet, and I’ll do all the talking. I’ll tell you exactly what happened. Then perhaps – if it’s not too much trouble – we can have a chat at the end. Okay?’ Kennedy offered.
Burgess merely shrugged his shoulders.
This isn’t going to be easy, Irvine’s eyes said to Kennedy across the table.
Kennedy offered Burgess a cup of tea. He refused without words and Kennedy poured himself another cup. He returned to his chair and tried to make himself comfortable.
‘Now, where do I begin?’ Kennedy answered his own question. ‘Oh, yes – at the beginning. Around lunchtime on Wednesday 20th January this year, a Susanne Collins was brought into the Accident and Emergency Department at St Pancras All Saints Hospital. You were the doctor on duty.’
Burgess arched his eyebrows but resisted the temptation to speak. Kennedy continued: ‘You examined her. Ms Collins had a swollen leg, she couldn’t bear to stand on it. She also had a slight temperature. You, Dr Burgess, concluded that she was suffering from Phlebitis, which is an inflammation of the vein. You prescribe antibiotics in the form of Ampicillin; four injections a day, I believe. You admitted her to hospital for observation, I believe – and to ensure the swelling went down. The next day, Thursday 21st January, the swelling has not receded so you keep her on antibiotics. Late the following day, Friday 22nd January, Ms Collins takes a turn for the worse. She’s having trouble breathing and complains of chest pains. The duty-doctor on Friday 22nd January, is, in fact, Dr Berry. Dr Berry, after examining Ms Collins, gives her a Diamorphine injection to ease the pain. Dr Berry realises your diagnosis was incorrect and that Ms Collins is not suffering from Phlebitis but, in fact, has a blood clot in her leg.’
Burgess sat rigid, his face showing no emotion.
‘The blood clot has, by this time, travelled from her leg and is close to her heart. Ms Collins becomes unconscious and Dr Berry puts her on a Heparin drip in the hope of dissolving the blood clot. Unfortunately, he’s too late and Ms Collins dies. Berry is held responsible for the death of Ms Collins but he knows that you, Dr Burgess – and you alone – were responsible. The only other person who has this information is your good friend, Mr Bowles. You persuaded Bowles that to protect himself and the hospital’s name, he must keep quiet about it. You then decide that Dr Berry has to die in order to keep your secret safe. However, you didn’t want something as ordinary as an accidental death to put an end to your promotion plans…’
‘You seem to forget, Inspector,’ interrupted Burgess, who had been paying very close attention to Kennedy’s monologue, ‘that I was on duty the morning Dr Berry fell in the canal.’
‘I did say you would have a chance at the end. Please bear with me, Doctor.’
Burgess sat back in his chair.
‘On Friday 20th January, you dined at the Feng Shang Restaurant. This restaurant, as you know, overlooks the Cumberland Basin. As you dined, you were fine-tuning your plan to murder Dr Berry. On Monday 1st February, Berry dines with his family at home at four o’clock in the afternoon. He leaves his house at five forty-five and travels to the hospital where he is on call from six o’clock that afternoon till two o’clock the following morning. He watches the BBC Nine O’clock News and retires to his cot at about ten o’clock. That’s the last time he is seen alive. You, Dr Burgess, went off duty at one o’clock on the same afternoon and, in the early hours of the following morning – Tuesday 2nd February – you slipped into Dr Berry’s room and injected alcohol directly into his bloodstream.
‘You injected him between the toes – this was the most convenient place to inject someone sleeping without disturbing them. Also, injection marks are unlikely to show up there during the autopsy examination. Dr Berry was now unconscious with alcohol and you lifted him into a wheelchair. You wheeled him out to the hospital car-park and loaded him and the wheelchair into the back of your Range Rover. You then drove to the Outer Circle in Regent’s Park, near St Mark’s Bridge and the Cumberland Basin. You were spotted at this location, wheeling Dr Berry in the direction of the bridge at 4.30am’
Kennedy noticed the first twitch from Burgess. After a mouthful of tea, he continued.
‘You also removed from the back of the Range Rover a piece of old canvas and two pieces of rope – one a lot longer than the other. You throw the longer rope and the canvas over the side of St Mark’s Bridge to land on the canal pathway below. The remaining rope, you tie around Berry’s chest, just under his arms, thus explaining the marks that were found in the autopsy examination. You lower him down on to the canal pathway by slowly using a braking device of wrapping the rope around the knob on the bridge side, letting it down hand-over-hand. The rope left marks and rope hairs on the knob. Keeping the rope in the same position, you lower yourself down on to the pathway. You then move the comatose body down the canal bank, away from the bridge and further into the basin. You place the body on the canvas and out of sight behind some rubbish. And
now for the complicated bit, Dr Burgess.’
Kennedy felt that some of Burgess’ aloofness had evaporated.
‘You attach one end of the long rope to the canvas that Berry is lying on. You then tie the rope about one third the way along its length to the side rail of the Sailing Diamond. You use a Highwayman’s Hitch – you’ll remember it, I’m sure, Dr Burgess – it’s on page sixty-four of The Complete Guide to Knots. There’s a copy of it in your study which you may like to consult – if you ever get home again. Now, the magic of this knot, as you know, is that if you pull the “working” end of the rope, the knot will hold firm and take the strain. But if you pull the “loose” end of the rope, the knot will become completely undone.’
Kennedy removed a piece of thin rope from his pocket and demonstrated the knot on the back of his chair.
He went on, again using the rope to demonstrate.
‘Next, you tie the long end, or “loose” end of the rope to a tree on the bank. You then hide the rope along the hedge-growth and in the water. Finally, you climb up the other rope back onto the bridge, pack up the rope in the back of your car and return to the hospital. All this climbing and pulling and lowering takes its toll on your body and you put your back out. It must have been serious because you are still suffering from it when I visit you for the first time a few days later. You return to the hospital in time for your duty-call at 6am. At 7am, Mr Martin Shaw and his colleague ready the Sailing Diamond for its first journey of the day. As they cast off, the “working” section of the rope – stretched between the boat and the canvas – becomes taut and the boat pulls the canvas and Dr Berry’s body into the canal. The point of the canvas is so you don’t have to tell-tale rope tied to Dr Berry’s body. Martin Shaw heard the splash but he didn’t see anything apart from a few air bubbles. The “loose” section of the rope between the tree and the rail on the Sailing Diamond now starts to become taut and the tension unties the Highwayman’s Hitch on the rail. The Sailing Diamond sails off, unaware of the intrigue left in its path. Dr Berry is still unconscious from the alcohol and drowns in the muddy water of the canal while you are busy collecting your perfect alibi on duty at the hospital.’
Kennedy drew a breath.
‘Very, very nearly the perfect crime and it would have been were it not for the total commitment Sheila Berry had for the memory of her husband.’ Kennedy concluded.
Burgess could only bow his head, stunned, shocked, silenced. As far as he was concerned, though, he was only guilty of one crime – the crime of being found out.
‘Take him away, DS Irvine, and charge him with murder.’
Chapter Forty-Eight
Kennedy returned to his office and made a fresh pot of tea. He drank it slowly, studying his case noticeboard – it looked different to him now – now that the case was solved. His thoughts were not ones of satisfaction for “breaking” the case but instead they were with Sheila and Sam Berry – and with Norman Collins and his father.
Kennedy’s phone rang. He let it ring a few times before saying out loud, ‘Oh, well, here we go again. Another case.’
He lifted the phone.
‘Kennedy?’
‘Hi, ann rea.’
Kennedy gave her the news.
‘Brilliant, well done. Dinner tonight? You can tell me all the twist and turns.’
‘Yes, great.’
‘My place or yours?’
‘Yours,’ he replied.
‘Good. I’ll pick you up at North Bridge House at seven. Kennedy, you bring the wine.’
‘Great, okay. Oh, ann rea…’
‘We’ll talk tonight, Kennedy, see you then.’
Chapter Forty-Nine
Kennedy turned over on the bed.
‘ann rea?’ His voice was sleepy.
‘What is it, Kennedy?’
‘ann rea, can we make love again?’
‘Kennedy!’ she replied breathily.
‘Hmm?’
‘We only just made love!’
‘Okay, right – I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.’
THE END
Inspector Christy Kennedy returns in I Love The Sound Of Breaking Glass also published by Fahrenheit Press.
About the author
Paul Charles is an agent, promoter, author and fan of The Beatles, he was born in Magherafelt, Northern Ireland.
Acknowledgements
Special thanks to Ann McGarvey for words on wards, to Christina Czarnik for words in the office, to Paul Fenn for long time words, to Jim Drive for words above and beyond, to Andrew & Cora for parental words and to Gillian and Jonathan for goods words.
The Inspector Christy Kennedy Mysteries by Paul Charles, published by Fahrenheit Press
Last Boat To Camden Town
I Love The Sound Of Breaking Glass
Fountain Of Sorrow
The Ballad Of Sean And Wilko
The Hissing of the Silent Lonely Room
I've Heard The Banshee Sing
The Justice Factory
Sweetwater
The Beautiful Sound of Silence
A Pleasure To Do Death With You
Also by Paul Charles and published by Fahrenheit Press
One Of Our Jeans Is Missing
Other Books from Paul Charles
Inspector Starrett Mysteries:
The Dust of Death
Family Life
St Ernan’s Blues
McCusker Mystery
Down On Cyprus Avenue
Other Fiction:
First of The True Believers.
The Last Dance
The Prince Of Heaven’s Eyes (A Novella)
The Lonesome Heart is Angry
Non-Fiction:
The Best Beatles Book Ever
Playing Live
