Her Dr. Wright

by Meredith Webber

  ‘Nonsense!’ David said. ‘I’m city-bred, yet after three years I can’t imagine living anywhere else.’

  Though I may have to after this, common sense reminded him. But Ted was seriously rattled, which was enough to concern David about the situation. Sufficient, even, to divert at least part of his mind from his huge personal problems.

  ‘I thought a woman doctor might have some insight into what’s happening with Kelly,’ Ted added lamely.

  ‘Not without seeing the patient,’ David told him. ‘It’s OK for you to come in and lay the groundwork, but how were you going to get Kelly here?’

  Ted lifted his broad shoulders in a heavy shrug.

  ‘I hadn’t figured out the next move. In fact, I knew you and this Sarah were friends, so I’d thought maybe…’

  ‘We could do it socially? Sunday afternoon barbecue at the Withers’?’

  ‘Something like that,’ Ted admitted.

  ‘We could probably still do it but you’d be better off talking to Kelly. She’d kill you if she found out you’d set this up behind her back. Talk to the woman, ask her what’s wrong.’

  ‘You ever tried that with a woman?’ Ted asked. ‘First they say, “nothing”, in a voice that suggests it’s far worse than you imagined, then if you persist they launch into the kind of explanation Freud himself would have found frightening, losing you about the fourth sentence so you haven’t a clue what they’re talking about, though you’re fairly sure it’s all your fault.’

  David found himself smiling.

  ‘Kelly’s not like that,’ he protested. ‘In fact, I’ve rarely met a person, male or female, more able to speak her mind. She wasn’t selected as head of the island’s tourism board for nothing.’

  ‘Well, she’s changed!’ Ted said forcefully.

  ‘Physically, is she well? I mean, does she look well? Or is she tired, run down? Couldn’t you persuade her to see a doctor? Sarah should be here tomorrow…’

  He didn’t feel any different, but something must have shown in his face as his mind flashed back to where Sarah was now, for Ted stood up again and reached out to clasp his shoulder, muttering an oath against his own stupidity at the same time.

  ‘Here I am, blathering on, and you’re obviously out of it yourself. Rough night with a patient? Some tragedy that hasn’t hit the gossip lines yet?’

  David rubbed his hands across his face.

  ‘You’ll hear soon enough. Sue-Ellen’s body has been found.’

  ‘Out at the farm? At your place?’

  David gave a huff of helpless mirth.

  ‘Where else?’ he said, shaking his head in a weary denial of the impossible fact. ‘It’s as if some malign fate is determined I’ll never be happy again!’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Ted repudiated this gloomy assumption, then swore to himself, adding aloud, ‘Oh, man! I’m so sorry! Sorry I ever got you involved with the Merlyn family! But for you to have to go through this! Where was she? Had she fallen somewhere? Down a well? Did the place have wells?’

  Ted was thinking about accidents—which David himself had assumed when Sue-Ellen had disappeared. But he could no longer hide behind such a contrarily comforting thought.

  ‘She was in a trunk—it has to be murder.’

  Ted’s fingers tightened on his shoulder.

  ‘David! Oh, mate! What can I say? But you shouldn’t be here, listening to people tell their tales of woe. You’ve said yourself people mostly want reassurance, not doctoring, so go home—let their wives or husbands, their mothers, anyone else, reassure them.’

  ‘I’m better off at work,’ David told him. ‘Though once word gets out I probably won’t even have that to cling to.’

  ‘Nonsense. Islanders judge people for themselves. They’d already decided you were an innocent party in Sue-Ellen’s disappearance long before you came back here to practise. In fact, they found your return quite touching—as if you needed to be close to your memories of her.’

  David considered this for a moment. He’d given up paediatrics and left the city because the gossip had hurt and saddened him, but he’d never fully analysed his reasons for choosing Three Ships as his future home.

  He’d simply come.

  ‘Close to where the happy memories were, perhaps,’ he told Ted. ‘Back when I came over for a holiday at your place and first met Sue-Ellen. I thought she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen—the most precious. Like a Dresden figurine.’

  ‘But tough as teak beneath the fragile beauty,’ Ted put in. ‘I imagine you discovered that somewhere along the way.’

  ‘Like on our honeymoon!’ David admitted. ‘She was flabbergasted to think I’d expected her to ski on a skiing holiday. Soon put me right.’

  ‘I tried to tell you,’ Ted reminded him. ‘Lovely to look at but lethal as hell, both those girls—or women, I should say. They matured very young—knew all the tricks to drive a man wild. Leading him on then turning away. I dated Mary-Ellen—though I was never entirely sure which one I was going out with—one summer when I was still at school. I thought I’d die from the pain she caused with her teasing.’

  ‘But, whatever they were, it doesn’t alter the fact Sue-Ellen’s dead,’ David said. ‘And no one has the right to take another person’s life. No one had the right to deny Sue-Ellen her life. Especially not Sue-Ellen, who was so essentially alive, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘You’re not talking like a murderer,’ Ted said, homing in on the real problem with a friend’s accuracy.

  ‘I’ve never thought or acted like one either,’ David assured him, ‘though I doubt many people will believe it. I’m afraid it’s going to be hard to prove I didn’t do it—and without proof people will make up their own minds.’

  Ted gave him a little shake.

  ‘In your favour! OK, the proof might be hard to come by, but the islanders’ll stand by you. They judge the person they know, not what they hear about him.’

  ‘Oh, come on!’ David said, but he smiled, albeit grimly. ‘The islanders are just the same as people everywhere. They’ll roll out all the clichés like “There’s no smoke without fire” and discuss it ad nauseam, at the same time casting dubious glances my way to see if somehow I’ve developed a mark of Cain.’

  Ted made a muted noise of disagreement, but David knew he was right. Unless whoever had killed Sue-Ellen was found, his life on the island was over.

  And just as dead as his lost wife were his hopes of wooing and winning Rowena.

  Which reminded him, he’d promised Margo he’d contact Barry.

  Beyond the window he could see kids coming home from school, shoving each other and laughing.

  How could everyday life go on as if nothing had happened? Was personal disaster so insignificant it had no effect on the rest of the world?

  ‘Let’s consider a physical cause first, as far as Kelly is concerned. Talk her into coming in to see Sarah. Tell her you’re concerned about her health, that you think she’s doing too much, and ask her to come for your sake—just to set your mind at rest.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ Ted said, sighing deeply, but whether over the problem of getting his wife to a doctor or David’s tenuous hold on islander loyalty, David couldn’t tell.

  He saw Ted out, greeted Mrs Smythe, one of the island’s two centenarians, then glanced up as the doorbell tinkled again. His heart did its lurching thing as Rowena walked in. Obviously the brain and heart must operate on different wavelengths where emotions were concerned. Far from disappearing, the physical manifestations of his attraction to Rowena seemed, if anything, to have increased in strength.

  She smiled at him, making things worse internally, and murmured, ‘When you’ve seen Mrs Smythe, maybe you could pop across to the hospital. Barry’s already there, but no one’s told him about Margo yet. He’ll probably be more panicky than her and, as there could be another twelve to eighteen hours before Junior Ryan arrives, I thought he might be best left in ignorance for a short time, anyway.’

&nb
sp; She paused, then went on, ‘And it turns out Nell’s on the mainland, due back on tomorrow’s flight, if it comes, so it looks like you’ll be it as far as the delivery is concerned.’

  ‘Me? Both the sisters at the hospital can deliver babies, so can you—you’ve had the training and must have done some prac. work when you trained.’

  ‘A hundred years ago!’ Rowena said, exaggerating tenfold. ‘And anyway, I don’t think Margo would be happy with any of us. As far as she’s concerned, it’s Nell or you—preferably both!’

  ‘Margo’s at the hospital?’ David asked, but although the conversation must have seemed quite normal to Rowena, and no doubt to Mrs Smythe had she been able to hear it, to him it seemed unbelievable—removed to a distance by the thoughts churning in his head.

  Foremost of which was how he felt about the woman to whom he was talking, how precious she’d suddenly become to him, how attractive her tall, lissom figure, the long blonde hair casually pulled back into its customary loose knot at the nape of her neck. But jostling attraction from centre stage was the desire to protect her, to distance her from all of this—or himself from her lest he taint her with its mire.

  Then, of course, were the even more unwelcome thoughts. Barry’s presence at the hospital meant Sarah must also be there—with a trunk and the pitiful remains of what had once been a vital, vibrant woman.

  A woman he had loved, then lost, even before she’d disappeared.

  ‘I’ll see Mrs Smythe then pop across. Who else is on the list? Can you remember?’

  ‘Sally Jenkins—young Harry’s second lot of shots. I’ll phone her and ask her to come tomorrow instead. If I can’t get hold of her, I’ll do the immunisation and she can see you about any other problems or worries she might have some other time.’

  ‘Bless you,’ David said, and he smiled at her, though he knew he shouldn’t because smiles drew people closer, and he was supposed to be doing a distancing thing!

  Rowena carried the smile with her as she turned away. She tucked it into the cold place in her heart where the previous evening’s rejection had turned heat to ice in a split second. Felt the arrival of the smile thaw a little of the ice.

  Behind her, David was helping Mrs Smythe to her feet and supporting her arm as she headed, in her slightly tipsy fashion, towards the consulting room.

  Like the Carters, Mrs Smythe would have come to check out the new doctor so she, too, would be disappointed. Normally, David went to see her when she needed a consultation, while a roster of women, including Rowena, called on a daily basis to see to her housekeeping and shopping.

  ‘Tough!’ Rowena murmured to herself, then was dismayed at the lack of sympathy in her reaction.

  But this afternoon, the inquisitiveness of the local population seemed irritating, while imagining how they’d react to the news of Sue-Ellen’s murder made Rowena’s stomach churn.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SARAH drove back to town in David’s car, following the police vehicle to the hospital. She had to admire the way Barry handled things, backing up close to the small building behind the hospital, sending the constable for the key, then the two policemen lifting the trunk, now loosely covered by a tarpaulin, straight through the door so there was minimum exposure to anyone who might have been about.

  With a tightening of her gut, Sarah followed, telling herself it didn’t matter who it was—all she had to do was document her findings. She parked to the right of the building, between it and the hospital, so the car was in the shade.

  The room had a stark look of abandonment and the accompanying echoes of despair, though it was clean enough and equipped with a small table on which the two men had placed the trunk, a stainless-steel dissecting table, a bench against one wall, deep sinks and taps, one with a hose already attached, and a tired-looking metal folding chair.

  ‘I’ve a sheet of plastic in the trunk. Nick, you know where it is. Fetch it, would you? Then pop into the hospital and let Jane know we’re here so she doesn’t think the place is being invaded. After that, you can go back and mind the shop in case a crime wave breaks out on the island.’

  The young policeman departed—eagerly! Glad to be out of the place, no doubt. Although some young constables were excited by the novelty, and here on the island, Sarah imagined, anything would serve to break the monotony.

  He returned to hand a flat plastic bag to Barry, then dutifully withdrew.

  Barry opened the sealed bag and pulled out a folded sheet of plastic.

  ‘They give us all this stuff for use in and around crime scenes, but I’ve never had much need of it,’ he said. ‘Never even had to dust for fingertips since I’ve been here, because if you see young Aaron West disappearing through someone’s bathroom window, you don’t have far to look for a suspect when something goes missing. Mind you, that time he was going in because Mrs Ross had locked her keys inside, but you get to know who nicks what and they’ll usually tell you if you ask.’

  He was talking to ease his own tension, Sarah guessed, but she didn’t mind as it was helping her as well. Together they spread the plastic on the stainless-steel trolley. As Sarah looked around to see what was available in the way of equipment, Jane Ross, the senior sister at the hospital, appeared.

  ‘What do you need?’ she asked, addressing her question to Sarah but glancing curiously at the trunk. ‘I don’t keep anything out here as the room is a bit damp and things go musty.’

  ‘Right now,’ Sarah told her, ‘I’d like gowns, plastic aprons, a small tape-recorder, if you happen to have such a thing, tapes, paper and pens. Goggles, masks, gloves—plenty of them. I want Barry to give me a hand in a minute and we’ll need to be double-gloved. Tongs and tweezers. Specimen jars.’

  Jane departed, a far-away look in her eyes suggesting that she was mentally repeating Sarah’s list.

  ‘I assume you have both paper and plastic evidence bags,’ Sarah said to Barry. ‘I don’t want to disturb anything I don’t have to, but if you need to see it’s all there, she’ll have to come out, and I’ll need to bag any clothes we take off her.’

  Her companion made a noise signifying agreement, but Sarah guessed he’d rather be anywhere but here.

  Though the smell wasn’t as bad as that of a body found after a few days. Insects must have found their way inside the trunk at some stage, but they’d left when satisfied and the dry air of the island summer, and the good ventilation in the shed, had dried out what was left.

  Or most of it.

  Jane returned from her foray into the hospital stock cupboards, pushing a trolley-load of equipment, including, Sarah was pleased to see, gowns, gloves, plastic aprons and a full face mask of clear plastic.

  ‘We had boots somewhere, but I can’t find them. I’ve sent the yardman up to the hardware shop to get a pair of wellies for you.’

  She hesitated, her hands on the trolley.

  ‘Do you need an assistant?’ she asked, then, before Sarah could reply, continued, ‘As the senior on duty, I’d help you myself, but we’ve just got a midwifery patient in and I’ll need to be on hand for her.’

  She glanced uneasily towards Barry, who’d returned with a couple of packs of evidence bags, then kept talking.

  ‘If you need someone, Rowena’s done this before. Once in a storm when a young man died unexpectedly and Peter, her husband who was the doctor here, did an autopsy. There are probably other times as well, which I can’t remember.’

  Sarah considered all the information.

  ‘I might need someone,’ she said, then she, too, glanced at Barry. ‘Unless you’d like to assist—you’ll be here anyway.’

  The look of horror on Barry’s face was enough to tell her what he thought of that idea, although most of the help Sarah needed would be photographic.

  ‘OK, could you phone Rowena, and ask her if she’d be willing to help? If so, she could come right over.’

  Jane slipped away again.

  ‘Have you got a good camera, apart from the Polaroid?’ Sa
rah asked Barry.

  ‘Sure! I’ll get Nick to bring it down.’

  He eased towards the door, but Sarah caught him before he escaped.

  ‘You’ve already got shots of her in the trunk, but I want to take more when she’s out, so how about you give me a hand before you go?’

  He came reluctantly forward, accepting the gown, apron, gloves and mask, then pulling the things on over his clothes, all the while grumbling under his breath. From the gist of it, his complaints were more against a policeman’s lot, rather than Sarah’s request for assistance.

  She started the tape-recorder so she could tape what she was doing. Later, when she wrote up her notes, she’d use the tape rather than rely on her memory.

  Then, with Barry’s help, Sarah, now also gloved and gowned and aproned, eased the skeletal remains out. Some joints, no doubt tastier to the insects than others, collapsed immediately; the clothes, as Sarah had suspected, disintegrated when touched. Bones, dust and drops of moisture from beneath the body dropped onto the plastic. As soon as the skeleton was safely on the sheet, Barry stepped away.

  ‘I’ll leave the rest up to you,’ he told Sarah, backing towards the door, the green hue of his face suggesting he needed to get out fast. Sarah heard a murmur of voices outside, then Barry’s deep bass, sounding upset. She ignored them, using tweezers to extract the remaining bones from the trunk.

  The door opened behind her and someone came in—two someones from the murmur of conversation.

  Rowena?

  She tweezered up another bone. Small bones of either the foot or the hand—hard to tell until she’d cleaned them up and set them in place with the rest of the skeleton. More conversation behind her, and when Rowena didn’t materialise nearby Sarah glanced around, to see the young policeman and David standing there.

  ‘Barry’s wife is having very early labour pains,’ David explained. ‘He’s popped into the hospital to see her while Nick makes sure you don’t throw anything away.’

  He spoke lightly but his voice was so strained Sarah wondered he could speak at all.