by John Holt
Kendall had spoken to Lambert earlier that day. He had briefly explained what it was that he required. Initially Lambert had been hesitant. “I can’t see that I can add anything further to what I have already said, Mr. Kendall,” he had said. “It was an accident, nothing more.”
Kendall had been insistent. “If you could just spare me a little of your time,” he had said. “Fifteen, twenty minutes, I would be most appreciative.” He paused for a moment. “And so would Mr. Dawson’s family.”
Lambert had relented, reluctantly. “All right, Mr. Kendall,” he replied. “I’ll see you, although why I cannot imagine. Three o’clock this afternoon. I can spare you thirty minutes. No more.” He sighed. “But I assure you, it was an accident.”
* * *
“Now Mr. Kendall exactly what is it that I can do for you,” Lambert said, rubbing his chin.
Kendall heaved a sigh. “Well as I told you, it’s about Richard Dawson,” he replied. “If I could just go over the whole thing with you…. I mean right from the start. It would be helpful.”
Now it was Lambert’s turn to sigh. “Go on, Mr. Kendall,” he said. “I agreed thirty minutes, although I cannot think why.”
“Yes sir,” Kendall said. “I know that you must be a very busy man, and I know that this could all be an incredible waste of your time.” He shook his head. “It really is very good of you. To see me like this, at such short notice. It is very much appreciated.”
“Whatever, Mr. Kendall,” Lambert responded, and smiled. “I think that perhaps you have now groveled more than enough.” He looked at his watch. “You have twenty-eight minutes left.”
Kendall cleared his throat. “Right, I better get on with it, hadn’t I,” he said. “Can I start by asking what Dawson’s condition was, when you first saw him? I mean when he was brought into the clinic.”
Lambert looked puzzled, and shook his head. “Condition,” he repeated. “Condition, Mr. Kendall? I don’t really understand your question.”
Kendall shrugged. It was a simple enough question, he thought. He took a deep breath. “When they brought him in, and you first examined him,” he explained. “How was he? I mean was he conscious? Did he say anything?”
“No, Mr. Kendall, he did not say anything. You see he was dead, I’m afraid,” Lambert replied. “He was already dead when he was brought in. What can I tell you?” He looked at his watch once again. “And you now have twenty-five minutes left.”
It was now Kendall’s turn to look puzzled. “He couldn’t have been dead,” he said. “I understood that he was still alive when he was brought in.”
The doctor frowned and looked puzzled. He shook his head. “Not so,” he said. “I’m afraid Mr. Dawson was quite dead on arrival.”
Kendall shook his head. “But I understood that he died here in the hospital, on the following day.”
The doctor shook his head once again. “I don’t know where you are getting your information from Mr. Kendall, but as I just said, I’m afraid that Mr. Dawson was quite dead on arrival.” He paused for a moment. “In fact, unless I am very much mistaken, I think he had actually died at the scene of the accident. Let me check that for you.”
He stood up and went over to a filing cabinet on the far side of the room. “I won’t be long,” he said holding his hand up. He pulled out a buff colored file, and walked back to his desk. He opened the file, and started to read the top sheet. “I was right,” he said. “He had died at the scene, according to the report of the attending paramedics.” He flipped over the page, and continued to read. “The paramedics were called to the scene at four twenty-two. Three minutes later a response unit arrived and discovered Mr. Dawson lying across a footpath area, adjacent to a low brick wall.” Lambert looked up. “It was apparent that he had tripped on a curbstone, and fallen, hitting the side of his head on that wall. The injuries that I saw were quite consistent with those findings.” He closed the file. “As I said, Mr. Dawson was already dead when he was brought into the clinic.”
Kendall started to frown, he was still puzzled. He had read the paramedics report, and knew what it said. However, Alan Clark at Trenton had been so sure that Dawson had been alive when he was taken to the hospital. What had he said? “He died the following day in hospital, I believe.”
Now Dr. Lambert had just confirmed the paramedics report. Kendall shook his head. Either he had misunderstood, or perhaps his informant had just been mistaken, simple as that. He shook his head once again. There was, of course, a third possibility. Maybe he had deliberately been lied to. “Right, so I got that all wrong, didn’t I?” he said smiling.
Lambert nodded. “I’m afraid that you did, Mr. Kendall,” he replied. “And I’m sorry to say that your allotted time is going fast.” He looked at his watch. “You now have a little over twenty minutes remaining.”
Kendall smiled and nodded. “Right you are,” he replied. “I better get on.” He took a deep breath. “Can I ask you about your report?”
Lambert nodded. “Certainly you can,” he replied. “I had actually assumed that was one of the reasons for coming today.”
Kendall reached into his pocket and took out an envelope. He opened the envelope and took out some papers. “I have a copy of it right here,” he said holding it up. Lambert nodded, and casually glanced at his watch.
Kendall opened the document and quickly scanned through it. “Here we are,” he said as he found the section he was looking for. “Your report mentions contusions to the right hand side of the head, wounds to the left hand side of the neck, and hemorrhaging.”
“That’s correct,” said Lambert, as he took a folder from his drawer. He opened it, and started to read through. “In my opinion death was due to internal hemorrhaging to the brain as a result of a blow to the side of the head.” He closed the report. “It was accidental death as simple as that.” He shook his head, and replaced the report in the drawer.
Kendall nodded, and then he took a deep breath. “Sounds pretty conclusive,” he said. “But I’m curious.”
“Go on, Mr. Kendall, you still have eighteen minutes left,” said Lambert. “What is it?”
Kendall cleared his throat. “Neither the paramedics report, nor your own mentions any other injuries apart from that head wound, and those cuts to the base of the neck.”
Lambert looked surprised. Then he nodded. “That’s probably because there were no other injuries,” he replied.
“So you are saying that apart from the wounds to the head, and the neck, there were no other injuries?” Kendall said. “There were no cuts or scratches to the hands, or the knees, nothing like that?”
The doctor looked puzzled for a few moments, and then shook his head. “No,” he replied. “There were no other injuries as far as I recall. I just said so, didn’t I?” He was becoming slightly impatient. “Just the wound to the side of the head, and the abrasions at the base of the neck, that’s it. There was nothing else. Why do you ask?”
Kendall remained silent for a few minutes, thinking hard. “Oh I’m just curious, that’s all,” he replied.
“I see, nothing curious about it, Mr. Kendall,” Lambert replied, shaking his head. “My report mentions no other injuries simply because there were none. There’s no mystery.” He glanced at the wall clock. “Fifteen minutes left.”
Kendall ignored the comment. “Don’t you think it just a little bit odd?” he asked. “I mean falling over like that, tripping, and only injuring your head, nothing else.”
“Odd possibly, I grant you,” Lambert reluctantly agreed. “But it isn’t impossible.”
Kendall sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m no expert in this kind of thing you understand, but that doesn’t make sense to me. I mean the young man trips on a curbstone, and falls on to a hard surface. And the only injury is to his head.”
The doctor shook his head, and still looked puzzled. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kendall,” he said, becoming more and more aggravated. “I still don’t understand wha
t you’re getting at.”
Kendall shrugged once again, and started to rub his chin. “He trips and falls to the ground. As he falls his legs hit the concrete, followed by his knees, then comes his upper body, and his arms.” He took a breath. “Next, his hands hit the ground hard, and finally his head.” He paused once again and took a breath. “That all happens in a split second,” he continued. “Apart from the huge gash at the side of his head, and some cuts to the neck, there’s not a single scratch on any other part of his body. That seems mighty odd to me.”
The doctor remained silent for a moment. Then he shook his head. “You could be right, M. Kendall. I really don’t know,” he said, “but there were no other injuries. If there had been, they would have been mentioned in the report. There were no other injuries. Just one of those things, I suppose.”
Just one of those things, Kendall murmured. Like co-incidence. He didn’t believe in co-incidence. Kendall was unconvinced. All right, so maybe it wasn’t exactly impossible, but it was hardly likely.
“All right, we’ll leave that for the time being,” Kendall replied. “Let me try something different, if I may.”
Lambert nodded. “By all means, Mr. Kendall, do try something different,” he replied wearily. “But remember the clock is still ticking.”
Kendall shrugged, and smiled, “So it is,” he said, as he looked at the wall clock. “So it is.”
“So Mr. Kendall what point do you want to discuss now?” Lambert asked.
“It’s just a little theory I have, that I would like to explore, if you don’t mind.” Lambert said nothing, but merely nodded. Kendall sighed. “Could a blow to the head with a blunt instrument, have the same result?” He paused for a moment. “I mean to cause a hemorrhage like that?”
The doctor thought for a few moments. “Well, certainly, that is a possibility,” he replied. Then he shook his head. “However, it does not apply in this case.”
Kendall looked puzzled. “Why ever not?” he asked.
“Mr. Kendall, the victim was discovered lying close to the wall. There was a large wound to the right side of his head. Extensive bruising and bleeding was noted. There were also a number of cuts to the neck. It was clear that he had struck his head on the wall.” He smiled. “It was the wall that struck the fatal blow, not some unknown blunt instrument.”
“So it was accidental death, then, so much for my theory,” Kendall said. “It was the wall that struck the blow.” He shook his head and started to rub the side of his face. “Presumably there was a lot of blood staining on the wall?”
The doctor looked puzzled. “Blood staining on the wall,” he repeated, shaking his head. “I’m sorry Mr. Kendall, but I don’t have any information in that regard. And I don’t imagine that the paramedics would have bothered to examine the wall, they would have been far too busy with the patient.” He gave a deep sigh. “Perhaps the police might be able to help you.”
Kendall nodded. Perhaps, he thought. “What about the brickwork itself?” he asked
The doctor continued to look puzzled. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. What about the brickwork?”
“Firstly was there any damage done to the brickwork? Were there any pieces broken away? Was there any loose cement? Stuff like that.”
The doctor shook his head, and sighed. “I really couldn’t say,” he replied. “As I said before, the paramedics would not have bothered to examine the wall. Perhaps the police……”
Kendall nodded. “I know,” he said. “Perhaps the police might be able to help.” He shook his head. “Let me ask you another question. Was any brick dust found in the wound to Mr. Dawson’s head?”
The doctor shook his head. “You seem rather preoccupied with the wall, if I may say.” He shook his head once again, and sighed once again. “No, there wasn’t any brick dust,” he replied. “Not to my knowledge, anyway, but of course the wound would have been cleaned by one of my nurses before I saw the patient.” He paused for a moment and then sighed. “Now I really am very busy.” He looked at the wall clock, and turned his head. “I have to get on.”
Now it was Kendall’s turn to look puzzled. “I’m sorry,” he said shaking his head, and totally ignoring the comment. “I have a small problem with what you just said. Perhaps you can clarify something for me.” He paused and took a deep breath. “If Mr. Dawson was actually dead on arrival, why would the wound need to be cleaned at all, prior to your examination?”
“It’s standard procedure, Mr. Kendall,” Lambert replied. “The circumstances surrounding his death still needed to be determined. It was still necessary to carry out a post mortem. The wound still needed to be cleaned by my team, in order to carry out a proper examination.”
Kendall paused for a few moments, and nodded his head. “I see,” he replied. Not really seeing at all. “Do you think I could speak to your staff?” he asked.
The doctor shook his head. “Well, I really don’t see the point. After all, the police have investigated the case thoroughly. I can’t see that we can add anything further, not now, do you? Besides I imagine that they are rather busy.”
Kendall nodded. “I know, I know. It’s a real pain, and probably a great waste of time,” he replied. “But if we could it might be useful, you know, if only for the family’s sake. His mother needs to know that every aspect has been thoroughly looked at, thoroughly examined, and checked. Then she could probably accept things more easily. You understand I’m sure. After all, what harm can it do?”
The doctor wasn’t at all sure what harm it could do. Nonetheless he couldn’t help feeling that it would do no good either. “All right, for the family’s sake,” he finally agreed reluctantly. “Come along then, this way.”
* * *
A short time later they arrived at the operating theatre. “Oh, Matron,” Lambert said, as he walked through the doors. “This is Mr. Kendall,” he announced, pointing to his guest following a few paces behind. “He is a private detective, and he is interested in the Richard Dawson case.” He shook his head. “I wonder if you would mind answering a few of his questions.”
Matron looked surprised, but nodded her agreement. “I’ll just clean up first, if I may,” she said, and quickly walked over to the washbasin. A few minutes later she returned. “Yes Mr. Kendall, “she said. “What exactly can I do for you?”
Kendall smiled and nodded. “Thanks for taking the time,” he said. “I’ll try not to keep you too long.” He could feel Lambert’s eyes boring large holes into his back. “I understand that Mr. Dawson was dead on arrival.”
Matron looked over to Lambert for a moment. He smiled and nodded. She turned back to face Kendall. “That’s correct,” she replied.
“I also understand that you and your team prepared the body for examination.”
Matron nodded. “That’s correct,” she replied. “We cleaned the wounds prior to the post mortem, as normal.”
Kendall nodded once again. “Was there any brick dust in the wound?” he asked.
Matron looked puzzled and turned to look at Lambert once again. Lambert shrugged his shoulders and smiled. She turned back to Kendall. “Brick dust?” she repeated.
“Yes,” replied Kendall. “Mr. Dawson struck his head on a brick wall,” he explained. “I was just wondering if any brick dust had actually entered the wound, that’s all.”
The matron started to smile. It was beginning to make sense. “Oh, I see.” She shook her head. “No, there was nothing like that. In fact it was quite a clean wound, really.”
Kendall nodded and looked at Lambert, then he turned back to face the matron. “Thanks for your help,” he said. “That’s it. I’m done.” He looked at Lambert. “And thank you for your trouble.”
He turned and started to walk towards the door. He suddenly stopped and looked back. “Just one more thing,” he said, holding up his hand. “What happened to his clothes?”
“His clothes,” repeated Matron. “What do you mean?
“Mr. Dawson’s cloth
es,” Kendall repeated. “What happened to them?”
The matron shook her head. “I really don’t know. They were probably burnt I imagine, or given back to his family. Why?”
“Oh I was just wondering what condition they were in,” Kendall replied. “I mean were there any tears or blood stains. Any mud splatters, that kind of thing.”
“Oh I see,” said the matron. She shook her head. “No there was no damage as far as I can remember, and no stains of any kind.” She looked over to her male colleague. “That’s right, isn’t it, Malcolm?”
Malcolm thought for a few moments, and then nodded his head. “That’s correct,” he said. “There was nothing that I recall.”
Kendall nodded. “Thanks, once again.”
“Well, Mr. Kendall, that’s about it,” Lambert said. “I’m afraid that we have run out of time. In fact you had a little over the allotted thirty minutes. Somehow I don’t think it was that helpful for you. But I did warn you, didn’t I?”
Kendall nodded. “Yes, you did, you did, indeed.” He turned around and walked out into the corridor. He was smiling. That had been a very constructive thirty minutes, very helpful, indeed.
* * *
Kendall suddenly stopped, and turned around. Lambert and the matron were standing at the doorway, watching him. He wondered if now would be a good time to sort out his own medical problems? Perhaps Lambert could just squeeze him in for a quick check up. Ten minutes, no more. Maybe take his blood pressure at least. Check his pulse, perhaps. Check his heart.
He looked at Lambert and sadly shook his head. There was probably no time, not right now, that is. It would have been far too expensive anyway. He smiled and waved, and then quickly walked away.
It was probably the curry anyway, just as Mollie had said.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-One
Batch 942/D
“Daily Telegraph”, London Wednesday – “The Chief Medical Officer for the South-East Hospital Trust has said there is no need for alarm despite a British person, who did not suffer with underlying health problems, dying from the Rican flu virus. The patient died on Friday evening at University Hospital in the southeast of England. The total number of Rican flu related deaths in the United Kingdom has now reached fifteen, most of them being in the north of the Country. In the other fourteen cases, the patients all had underlying health issues such as heart problems and long term chronic illnesses.
