The History Suite (#9 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series)

by Catriona King

  “Put him down and get those five names to Davy to do background checks. I need them as well. OK, what’s happening with the CCTV?”

  Jake shook his head. “There’s no CCTV inside Reilly Suite at all.”

  Liam gawped. “What? How come?”

  “It’s their home. You wouldn’t have cameras inside your house, would you?”

  Liam blustered. “No, but I don’t live in a government building, although the way Danni runs our house you’d wonder sometimes.”

  He thought for a moment. They had CCTV in the garden, street and Newman Ward but Davy already had all of those. They would tell them nothing about what went on inside Reilly, or who’d entered the linen room area between the wards. He had an idea.

  “Is there a camera outside Reilly, trained on the front door? That would tell us who went in and out to the main hospital.”

  Jake shrugged. “I’ll check, but remember they could have gone out by the front door and re-entered by the back, and even if they returned the same way, we’d need to prove that they’d headed towards the linen room in between.”

  Liam rose to his feet, annoyed at being told his job. “Don’t be a smartass. I know fine well what we have to prove. You just gather the information and leave me to worry about the challenging stuff.”

  He headed for the door at a dignified pace, completely missing the grins behind his back. Jake risked a question.

  “Where are you off to?”

  Liam attempted a mysterious look. “That’s for me to know and you to mind your own business about.”

  ***

  So many uniforms. White uniforms and checked uniforms and now heavy dark ones, with stripes and chrome buckles and noisy radios on their hips, spitting out static to remind everyone they were there. Why did the world have to be so messy? People running around, disturbing this nice clean place, this haven designed to combat ageing and cure the sick.

  The dead girl had been noisy too; demanding and cruel. Greedy, like everything in life belonged to her and she wanted it now and didn’t give a damn who she hurt. Too greedy; manipulating the vulnerable people that she’d met. She couldn’t be allowed to live.

  ***

  Hazel Gormley wasn’t Liam’s idea of a nursing sister. Sisters were clean and neat, with little white hats and their hair tied back, pristine nails and small feet in soft shoes that tapped quietly as they passed the sick. The loudest sound they made was a heightened ‘Shhh’ as someone noisily passed a sleeping patient’s bed, or the accidental clink of a tea-spoon while handing a relative a cup of tea. Sisters were the mother superiors of the ward, gliding smoothly through the cloisters to ensure that all was well. Hazel Gormley was none of those things.

  Liam stared at the young woman in front of him. She was young by anyone’s standards, no more than thirty-five, but if her face hadn’t betrayed her youth her style of dress definitely would have done. She wore an emerald green T-shirt that said ‘Stop me and buy one’ and jeans that Liam recognised as this years’ fashion from both Nicky and his wife. Her long, thick hair was streaked with alternate blonde and pink stripes and a small blue butterfly adorned one inner wrist. But it was her feet that bothered Liam most. They were shod in flip-flops the same colour as her top and her toenails were painted green to match.

  He shook his head, unaware that disapproval was written all over his face. Hazel Gormley smiled up at him, reading his mind.

  “You’d rather I was dressed like Sister Norton, wouldn’t you, Chief Inspector?”

  Liam sniffed. “Not for me to say.”

  “Ah, but you already have. Very loudly.” She smiled again as Liam blushed. “Don’t worry, you won’t be the first. Practically everyone over fifty has the same idea.”

  Liam’s eyes widened as he blustered. “I’m not over fifty.” He was forty-nine and he was staying there till he reached his sixtieth.

  The sister laughed. “Sorry. But you know what I mean. Your generation was brought up with ‘Carry on Nurse’ and you think all of us should dress like that.”

  Liam pointed through her office door, indicating the residential suite. “What do they make of you, then? Half of them must remember the lady with the lamp!”

  Gormley poured two cups of tea and Liam thought that at least she knew how to do that. When she replied it wasn’t the answer he’d expected to hear.

  “They asked me to dress like this.” She added milk and sugar to her cup and nodded Liam to do the same. “They took a vote at the beginning against people wearing hospital uniforms. You see, this isn’t a hospital ward, Inspector. Not really. Yes, all of the people here have slight health issues, but show me someone over fifty who doesn’t have some complaint.” She glanced pointedly at him. “I saw you holding your back earlier on.”

  Liam blustered again. “That’s not health, that’s my height. It’s always taken a toll on my spine.”

  “Whatever it is there won’t be anyone in the world who doesn’t have something similar at your age, even if it’s only aches and pains. My residents are just as fit as you, give or take.”

  “Why are they here then?”

  “Because they answered an advert.”

  She said it so matter-of-factly that he laughed.

  “What?”

  “They answered an advert in their GPs’ surgeries. Many of them had already given thought to selling their houses and moving into folds or homes, but they weren’t chronically ill. They could easily have continued to live independently for years.”

  Liam interrupted. “Here, the other day you said your people were too frail to have killed anyone, now you’re saying they’re fit and well.”

  Gormley shook her head. “They aren’t sick, that doesn’t mean that they’re strong enough to kill. I stand by what I said.” She shot Liam a challenging look and he liked her for it. “Do you want to hear about this advert or not?”

  He nodded her on.

  “OK. The Prof designed a long-term trial, and when I say long-term I mean over ten years, to look at the effect of older people receiving immediate and appropriate care. So, basically, what would happen if they lived in a community where any illness they suffered, big or small, would be picked up immediately.” She paused and sipped her tea. “They also get the best of food, vitamin supplements and regular check-ups.”

  Liam scratched his head, finding it hard to imagine anyone wanting to live in such a supervised way. It was like a lab with curtains. Gormley smiled.

  “They can and do go out, see their families, go to the pub etc. But I agree it wouldn’t suit everyone as a way of life. That’s why it was advertised, that way you get a pool of volunteers to select from. Oh, and did I mention that it was completely free? They still have the money from their house-sales in the bank and don’t have to pay nursing home fees.”

  Liam was starting to find the idea appealing. The realisation disturbed him and he swiftly changed tack.

  “OK, so everyone here volunteered. What was the percentage rejected?”

  Gormley twisted a strand of hair round her finger as she thought. “Ninety-two percent. Of the eight percent accepted a few dropped out in the early months, but we’ve had this cohort of residents since 2009.”

  “No-one died yet?”

  It was a conversational swerve and Gormley swerved in response. “No, and no pregnancies either.”

  Liam guffawed. It was cut short by her next words.

  “Although we have had a few STDs.”

  Liam gawped and she nodded. “Oh, yes. They can be a bawdy bunch. One of the married men played away with a woman he met at the pub and caught syphilis. Thankfully it was treated quickly. The Prof was very pleased.”

  Liam’s eyes widened. “Pleased that someone caught a dose!”

  “Yes. It means they aren’t living in a bubble. The research is supposed to see what happens if people are diagnosed and treated quickly, not if they never get sick at all.”

  Liam’s eyes narrowed, as if he’d just thought of something. “How w
ell did you know Eleanor Rudd – the nurse that died?”

  An uneasy look crossed Gormley’s face. “I…I knew her well. She used to work here sometimes, on her days off.”

  Liam nodded. “Agency nurse?”

  “Yes. Professor Taylor pays excellent rates.”

  Something about the sister’s expression made Liam dig further.

  “You either didn’t like Rudd, didn’t rate her as a nurse, or something happened while she worked here. Which was it?”

  Gormley didn’t answer so Liam decided to get the information by the back door.

  “Don’t tell me. One of the patients got her pregnant.”

  Gormley laughed and then stopped herself, as if the idea wasn’t as ludicrous as it seemed. “No. But I wouldn’t have put it past some of our patients, or Rudd. She got around.” As soon as her words hit the air she tried to bite them back. “I mean…if she had got…” She gave up halfway and pursed her lips in disapproval. “Very clever, Chief Inspector. All right, you asked me how well I knew Eleanor Rudd, the answer is too well and I didn’t like her.”

  She paused as if reluctant to betray a colleague, especially a dead one, but Liam urged her on.

  “Eleanor Rudd wasn’t very nice, not in my book. She always had her eye to the main chance, if you know what I mean.”

  Liam knew exactly. He’d worked with cops like that over the years; all for one and one for all, except when it came to their turn, then it was every man for himself. They were the men who would climb over anyone to get promotion and made sure their errors always fell at someone else’s feet. He nodded the sister to continue.

  “Rudd did her work, but only just. She was lazy and cut corners and I know that if Sister Norton was being truthful she would say the same.” She smiled. “Janey will never speak ill of the dead but I bloody well will. Eleanor Rudd didn’t care about anyone but herself, not her friends and definitely not her patients. She probably didn’t even care about the men she dated, except for what they could give her.”

  Liam interjected. “Who was she dating? Do you know?”

  Gormley paused for a moment and then shrugged as if she’d decided to be hung for the whole sheep. “The ones I know of for sure were Adrian Cooke, the unit’s middle-grade doctor, and Prof Taylor, but there might have been more.” She shrugged again. “More fool them. Rudd was a good looking girl, but there are lots of those about and a lot nicer as well.”

  Liam sniffed carefully for the scent of sour grapes but there was none. Hazel Gormley read his mind.

  “No, I wasn’t jealous of her. I’m happily in love and she was welcome to both Taylor and Cooke. Neither of them is exactly a prize.”

  Liam smiled, liking Hazel Gormley more by the minute. Craig had often told him he shouldn’t judge a book by its cover and in this case he was right.

  “OK, so I’ve two more questions for you. One, did the Prof and Cooke know about each other? And two, you said that Rudd used to do agency work here. Did that stop when she died or before then?”

  Gormley laughed. “Very sharp. To answer your second question first. She stopped working here two months before she died because some of the residents complained that she’d been harsh with them, and they weren’t people who normally complained about anything.”

  “What sort of harsh?”

  Gormley face clouded. “We have some elderly ladies who need help dressing. Rudd was rough and rushed them. She dug her nails into one, which I’m pretty sure was deliberate, and she left bruises on another’s arms.” She furrowed her brow. “They’re the things I found out about, God knows what else she did. I told the agency that I wouldn’t have her back.”

  Liam nodded. Cruelty might have been motive for murder if a relative had found out. “What about my first question; did Cooke and the Prof know about each other?”

  Gormley shook her head. “I honestly have no idea. But it’s a small place and if I knew what Rudd was doing I can’t imagine that the men didn’t.”

  Suddenly her eyes widened and Liam knew something had just occurred to her.

  “You’ve just thought of something, what is it?”

  The sister shook her head hastily but Liam stared insistently into her eyes. “What?”

  Gormley sighed and shook her head. There was a sadness about it, as if what she was about to say was a betrayal. Her voice dropped.

  “Adrian…Dr Cooke…he’s a bit of a waster but he’s a good doctor, he really is. He cares about his patients.”

  Liam leaned forward, straining to hear her words. “OK, he’s a good doctor. But?”

  “But…he had a problem…last year.” She rushed to add. “He got help for it, I know he did.”

  Liam was unyielding. “What did he need help for, Sister Gormley?”

  Hazel Gormley’s next words were so soft that Liam asked her to repeat them. He heard them loud and clear the second time.

  “Drug abuse. But he got help, I know he did.”

  Liam’s voice became stern. “What sort of drugs?”

  She shook her head. “He was using a mixture. Cocaine mainly and…”

  “And?”

  “He’s very physically fit.”

  She tightened her lips, signalling that she would say no more. She didn’t need to; the very fit Dr Cooke had obviously been using steroids. Mixed with cocaine and a two-timing girlfriend it was the perfect recipe for rage. Murder was just the next step.

  ***

  The C.C.U. 12 p.m.

  “Right, what have we got? Davy, you first, then Annette, then Liam. Fire away.”

  Davy began, running through the CCTV or lack of it, on and off the unit. “There’s nothing inside Reilly S…Suite at all, just cameras outside the door leading to the car park and tennis courts...”

  Nicky’s husky voice cut across his words. “Tennis courts! What is this place, a holiday camp?”

  Davy smiled. “Pretty much. OK, so I decided to check the cameras for three hours before and after the murder and I’ve s…shots of everyone who came and went. Could you all I.D. them with the staff?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Great. OK, so the front door of Reilly S…Suite; that leads to the linen room area, Newman Ward and the rest of the hospital. I’ve got some faces there. The tricky part is trying to work out who, if anyone, from Reilly left by either the front or back door and then entered the linen room area. W…We have no cameras there so I’ll have to pull the CCTV from the s…street outside Reilly’s back door and the rest of the hospital inside. Even that will only tell me who headed back towards the linen room and at w…what time; it won’t tell me where they’d been.”

  Craig nodded. “True, but if there’s a time gap between heading in that direction and re-appearing at Reilly we can narrow it down and ask people to account for their time in the gap.”

  Davy nodded and pushed his hair back from his face. Craig winced, seeing that the once solitary piercing on his earlobe had been joined by two more on the helix. He just hoped he wouldn’t play with them while he was around; people pulling at their piercings made him nauseous. The analyst saw what Craig was staring at and playfully moved a finger towards his ear. Craig continued hastily.

  “What about Newman Ward?”

  Davy smiled and turned back to the paper in his hand. “Everyone’s accounted for there, according to where they said they’d be. The only people who left the w…ward in that period were Eleanor Rudd, Caroline Hobbert and Hannah Donard.”

  “No-one went from Newman to Reilly, or vice versa?”

  Davy shook his head again. “No. S…So by that reckoning the only people who would have been anywhere near the linen room were the three nurses I just mentioned and anyone from Reilly w…who had detoured there.”

  Annette interjected. “Or anyone from anywhere else in the hospital that’d just wandered in.” She turned to Craig. “Even if we see people heading in the right direction, we can’t place them definitively at the scene because we’ve no CCTV in or around the linen room.�
�

  Craig sighed. She was right. All they could do was narrow down the pool.

  “We need a lot more than this. Any court would throw it out.”

  Jake cut in. “What about new visitors to the ward? Were there any relatives in or out?”

  “No again. Newman’s visiting hours are restricted to the afternoons. And any visitors to Reilly in that time will be I.D.ed off the CCTV outside.”

  Craig thought for a moment and then banged his forehead hard with his hand. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of it? Davy, have the forensics come through yet?”

  “Rudd’s tox-screen was clear. I won’t get the rest till Monday.”

  “OK, when you do, ask Des to isolate any prints on the linen room door. There were no prints on the body, so either our killer wore gloves or wiped them off, but they might have got careless and not put their gloves on until they were inside the room. It’s worth a shot.”

  “Cool. I’ll check.”

  “Anything else on Rudd?”

  “Just the usual. Twenty-five; had been a nurse for four years, moving around the Trust. One younger brother and both parents still alive.”

  Craig frowned, remembering Billy Rudd’s aggression. He wondered what Eleanor Rudd had learned growing up in that home.

  “One reprimand on her record and mediocre reports all the w…way through her career.”

  “What’s the general gist of them?”

  “Uncaring, veering towards cruel.” Davy shook his head. “She s…shouldn’t have been a nurse and that’s not just my opinion. It’s actually written on her assessment from the ward she was on before geriatrics.”

  A squeak from Annette made everyone turn. “Not geriatrics, Davy. It’s called Elderly Medicine nowadays.”

  “OK, whatever it’s called. The ‘Medicine for people over forty’ ward.”

  It was Craig and Liam’s turn to squeak. Craig recovered enough to speak. “OK, get me those reports. Anything else?”

  “Carmen and I did background checks on the s…staff and patients on Newman but there was nothing there. We’re still doing the ones on Reilly.”

  “Well done, and thanks for helping with that, Carmen. Keep digging. This seems as good a time as any to tell you about our visit to Eleanor Rudd’s home. Annette?”