Barney shook his head impatiently. ‘No. I mean—Lucy and I, we overheard something that’s almost incredible—but it must be part of this mess we’re in——’
Jeff sobered immediately and looked more alert, his eyes narrowing.
‘What? Something to do with those patients’ deaths?’
‘Yes—it must be. Listen——’
‘No, Barney!’ Lucy hardly knew that she had spoken so sharply, until both men jumped and looked round at her. ‘Not here,’ she said more gently. ‘It’s—well, it isn’t something to talk about in a public sort of place. You know quite well that they wouldn’t have said anything if they’d known we were there.’
She looked round the Casualty waiting room, where two or three people still sat. ‘Can’t we wait to talk about it when we’re quiet somewhere?’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ Barney said a little unwillingly, ‘though I imagine Jeff will be as interested as I was——’
The double doors that led to the main part of the hospital, via the outpatient department, swung and flapped their rubber edges, and Stroud came through with three other men, one of whom was in the uniform of a senior fire officer, the other two wearing sober dark suits and rather grubby buff coloured mackintoshes.
‘Plain clothes police?’ Barney breathed softly, staring at them, and Jeff whirled and stared too.
Stroud saw them, and hesitated for a moment. Then he said something to one of the men, who looked sharply at the little group in the corner. Then they crossed the waiting room.
‘Ah—erm—Dr. Elliot—Dr. Heath—I hadn’t intended to say much about this at this stage, but since you are both here, there seems little point in delaying. Er——’ He seemed embarrassed, and coughed sharply before going on.
‘The fact is, as a result of—er—something else that happened here tonight—and you may as well know what it is now as later, I suppose—as a result of the fire, which does not appear to—to have been entirely an accident—matters need investigating. Not only the fire, you understand, but the other business—the one we were discussing this afternoon.’
‘The murdered patients,’ Barney said baldly, and Stroud looked intensely uncomfortable and coughed again.
‘You think they were murdered?’ The taller of the two men in raincoats spoke sharply in a flat London voice that just stopped short of being cockney.
Barney looked briefly at Jeff and Lucy and nodded crisply.
‘We all do. We’ve been talking about it.’
‘Oh, I do wish you wouldn’t—really you should not gossip about such matters!’ Stroud said distressfully, and Barney raised his eyebrows at him.
‘Hardly gossip, when both Heath and I appear to have been involved!’
‘They’ll have to talk about it, Mr. Stroud,’ the tall man said, easily. ‘Like it or not, there’s going to be a lot of talk. I’m goin’ to encourage it, too, since that’s the best way of finding out what’s what. Now, Dr.—Elliot, is it? My name is Spain, Detective Inspector Joseph Spain. This is Detective Sergeant Travers. Quite a day you’ve had here today, hmm?’
‘Two deaths and a fire,’ Jeff grunted. ‘You could call it quite a day, I suppose.’
‘Ah, yes, you’ll be Dr. Heath. How d’y’do. As I understand it, both of you have something to contribute to any investigations I make, so I’ll be wanting to talk to both of you——’
Inspector Spain looked at Lucy then and smiled. It was an attractive smile, lifting his rather heavy face into a friendly expression.
‘And who might this young lady be? One of these gentlemen’s girl friends?’
‘I’m Sister Beaumont,’ Lucy said, with considerable dignity.
The smile broadened. ‘Really? Who’d have thought it? You don’t look the sort of battleaxe I imagined sisters to be.’
Lucy reddened. Had she realised just how young she looked, with her hair ruffled and her round face smudged with dirt, she might have been less annoyed at Spain’s attitude.
‘Do you know much about what’s been going on here?’ Spain went on.
‘Only what Barney—Dr. Elliot has told me,’ Lucy said, and Inspector Spain nodded.
‘I see. Well, that’s interesting too. Always useful to know who’s on whose side, as it were. Helps sort out the information we collect, doesn’t it, Travers?’ And Lucy blushed furiously again at Travers’ knowing grin.
‘Are you going to start your investigations tonight—er—this morning?’ Stroud cut in, a little irritably, looking up at the big clock above them. ‘It’s almost one o’clock you know, and it’s been a long day——’
‘Indeed it has,’ Inspector Spain said equably. ‘I’ve been working too, believe it or not. No, not now. We’ll need daylight to have a good look at that Pharmacy and work out what’s what, won’t we? What I’d like to suggest is a meeting with you gentlemen—and anyone else involved—at around nine o’clock. I’ll start in the Pharmacy at six-thirty or thereabouts. I’ll be glad if you can be there then, if you please, Mr. Stroud.’ He glanced a little maliciously at Stroud, whose face had fallen ludicrously, and then grinned again as he turned away.
Then he stopped, and looked back at Lucy. ‘You come too, Sister. If you’ve been discussing this business with your—friends—we’ll maybe be glad of your contributions as an on looker, as it were. Yes. See you at nine, then. Good morning!’
It was another half hour before Lucy went over to the Nurses’ Home to bed, with Barney escorting her across the courtyard. Jeff had insisted on knowing what they had heard at the scene of the fire, and since the waiting room was by then empty of people, Lucy had not demurred, although she was desperately tired and longing to go to bed. But Jeff had gone up to the doctors’ quarters at last, and Barney had insisted on seeing Lucy safely to the Home before going to bed himself.
‘Though what could happen between here and the Home, I can’t imagine——’ Lucy said, trying to pretend she didn’t particularly want him to accompany her. But Barney just smiled down at her and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.
They stood a little awkwardly at the door of the Nurses’ Home, in the still lingering smokiness, staring across at the wrecked Pharmacy building at the far end of the garden. And then suddenly Barney ducked his head, and kissed her cheek, holding her shoulders in a firm grip, before saying softly, ‘Goodnight, Lucy.’
‘Goodnight,’ she whispered, looking up at him in the darkness, wishing he’d kissed her properly. ‘I—I’ll see you in the morning then?’
‘Yes——’ He still stood there, and there was a moment’s silence. Then he said, almost whispering himself, ‘Thank you for being so nice tonight, Lucy. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been around.’
And then he chuckled softly. ‘This was one hell of a first date, wasn’t it? Next time, we’ll have a less—strenuous time, I promise. Yes? We’ll go out somewhere together, properly.’
‘I’d like that,’ Lucy said, and suddenly aware that if she didn’t go she would almost certainly throw her arms round him and kiss him herself, she turned, and slipped in through the big doors, leaving Barney to take himself back to the main block and the doctors’ quarters in a dreamlike state composed of fatigue and anxiety and an extraordinary sense of elation which was, he thought, quite ridiculous under the circumstances.
In the broad light of the following morning, the sense of elation had subsided, but it left a deep warm glow that helped him to face breakfast in the doctors’ dining room with far more equanimity than he would have thought possible.
Not that breakfast was a particularly pleasant meal. Jeff sat and glowered but then Jeff tended to be a glum sort of man at the best of times, and the others were strained and silent as Barney came in and helped himself to scrambled eggs and toast.
‘Any further developments?’ he asked Colin Jackson, who was barricaded behind the Telegraph.
‘What sort of developments do you want?’ Colin said harshly. ‘Haven’t we had enough to satisfy
you?’ He looked at Barney with an expression almost of dislike, and suddenly dropped his paper and leaned forwards.
‘I’ll tell you this much, Elliot, and I’ll tell Heath too. In my estimation there’s been a great deal of hot air talked around here. Two patients died under strange circumstances, I know—but they aren’t that strange. It could still be due to plain old fashioned negligence, and I for one am not going to be swept off my feet by a lot of dramatic talk about murders. Talk like that could be a very useful smoke-screen——’
‘What the hell are you getting at?’ Barney felt his face whiten.
‘Just what I say. Until I see the result of the post mortems I’m not going to go around saying “poor devils” about either of you. Murder! For God’s sake, why? And more to the point, how? Tell me how that poor bastard of a sailor died, and show me that it was nothing to do with the anaesthetic you gave and maybe I’ll listen to talk about killing—but until you can show me facts like that, I’ll stick to my own ideas. And you might as well know it——’
‘Be quiet, Colin.’ This was Cantrell, enjoying an early breakfast at the hospital’s expense, although as a married man he was non-resident. An even tempered person, rather older than the average for anaesthetic registrars, he was the only man in the room approaching Colin Jackson in seniority, and so the only one really able to talk to him on equal terms.
‘You know as well as I do that Barney is in one hell of an equivocal position. To actually prove a conclusive cause of death in a case like this is bloody nearly impossible. I don’t blame him for seizing on the possibility there’s been—what do the police call it?—foul play? yes, foul play. I’d think the same thing in his position, damned if I wouldn’t——’
Barney had had a chance to simmer down from the rush of fury Colin’s icy disbelief had aroused in him, and thinking about what Colin had said, had to admit in all fairness that he had made a point.
How had the sailor died? He had arrived in theatre, a man in good general condition with a well defined surgical emergency condition, and no more. The operation had gone perfectly smoothly up until the point at which the pulse had begun to fail, and there could not for one moment be any possibility that the operative procedures had caused his death. It had undoubtedly been something to do with his anaesthetic. And Barney Elliot had given that anaesthetic.
The glow with which he had started the day diminished, flickered as he thought of Lucy and wondered whether she had had any bright ideas about it all, and then finally died when Jackson spoke again.
‘Oh, I don’t blame him for making the most of such excuses as he can. ‘I’m just saying I see them for what they are—excuses. Bad enough we had the deaths here, without the place being littered up with police. A little less noisy talk would have avoided them, and the upheaval and talk they’ll cause——’
‘Like hell it would,’ Barney said swiftly. ‘As I understand it, from what Inspector Spain said last night, they were called in because of the fire—because of the drug business.’
Jackson raised his head sharply. ‘Now, how do you know about that?’ he said softly.
Barney could have kicked himself. He and Lucy hadn’t deliberately listened in to the conversation Jackson and Stroud and Bruce had had last night, but all the same, it wasn’t pleasant to admit to eavesdropping.
‘I heard you,’ he said sulkily, after a moment. ‘Last night. Outside the Pharmacy. And if it’s true, then it seems reasonable to suppose that those deaths were in some way linked. You’d hardly get two different criminals at work in the same place at the same time.’
‘As I’ve already pointed out, there’s a good deal of doubt, in my mind at any rate, that there was anything criminal about those deaths anyway. I find the fact you know that last night’s fire was probably caused deliberately very significant——’
‘Deliberately? What’s that?’ John Hickson spoke for the first time, and Barney turned and looked at him. His face was extraordinarily pale.
Jackson stood up and made for the door. ‘You’ll all find out soon enough, I suppose,’ he said curtly. ‘There is evidence to suggest the fire was due to arson. The police have been over there since the crack of dawn, poking about, and I’ve already talked to Spain. He regards the evidence as conclusive. And Bruce is convinced that the arsonist was trying to cover up some drug stealing that had been going on. You’ll all be interviewed some time today, I gather—so how the hell I’m to keep the hospital working, God only knows! I must tell you, Elliot, that I have every intention of informing Spain that you knew about the fact it was arson before I told you. Good morning,’ and he went, slamming the door behind him.
Barney swore loudly and fluently, and Jeff leaned back in his chair and said flatly, ‘Shut up, Barney. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’
‘Nothing to worry about? With that—that sanctimonious devil after my blood? Not much!’
‘Oh, of course you haven’t!’ Jeff said impatiently. ‘You’ve got a witness, haven’t you? Lucy was with you. And you’ve got me. You began to tell me about it before Stroud spoke to us last night and told us officially. Simmer down, man.’
Jeff turned his head then, and looked very directly at Hickson.
‘What interests me, Hickson, is why you’re so agitated about all this. You looked sick when Jackson mentioned arson. Why? Are you involved in this mess by any chance?’
‘Me—what? Of course not. Not at all. I’m just—I didn’t like—I mean, it’s a horrible thought, isn’t——?’ Hickson was floundering badly, and his face was a sick greenish white as he got to his feet and made clumsily for the door. ‘The whole business is—just too horrible——’ and he too slammed the door behind him.
‘That’s odd,’ Barney said, staring after him. ‘You’re right, Jeff. Why the hell is he in such a state? He looked like that last night, too——’
‘Last night?’ Jeff said quickly.
‘Mmm. At the fire. He came past us looking like death—really bothered. Do you suppose—no, it couldn’t be! Not that little wet——’
‘I don’t know. It could be anyone!’ Jeff said, showing some real animation for once. ‘Isn’t that the point Bruce made? Or so you said. It had to be a doctor—or perhaps a senior nurse—who meddled with the drug requisitions—why not Hickson?’
‘My God, this is horrible!’ Harry Caspar too made for the door, looking sick. ‘Is this what’s going to be going on here from now on? Everyone accusing everyone else, suspecting everyone else? It’ll be hell——’
‘That’s exactly what it’ll be like,’ Derek Foster said bitterly. ‘Exactly. I’ve already been talked at by those lousy police——’
‘What? You didn’t tell us!’ Barney said.
‘I haven’t had much of a chance,’ Derek snapped. ‘You’ve all been talking your flamin’ heads off. They copped me at seven o’clock, on my way in this morning——’
‘You were out last night? All night?’ Jeff asked quickly.
Derek grinned. ‘I was, pal, I was. I’ve got to get my love life in some time——’
‘Can you prove you were out all night?’ Barney asked. ‘Because if you can you’re in the clear. I imagine the police are going to want to know where everyone was last night, when the fire started, I mean——’
‘They do,’ Derek said. ‘I’ve already been asked that. And seein’ I’ve no old fashioned notions about protecting women’s names, I’ve satisfied ’em already. Well, up to a point. They still had a lot more questions to ask about that Polish sailor——’
There was a tap at the door, and Sheila, the red headed maid, put her head round it, and said breathlessly, ‘Inspector Spain’s compliments and would Dr. Elliot and Dr. Heath be so good as to remember the appointment he made with them last night, for which they are already late, and he’s waitin’ over in the Pharmacy for youse both, and will Mr. Foster please go too, he says.’
They walked over to the Pharmacy in silence, each busy with his own thoughts. Barney’s w
ere in a turmoil. As Harry had said, it was hell to find himself looking at each of his colleagues with a suspicious eye, but under the circumstances, it was impossible not to.
Why is Colin Jackson so adamant in his belief Jeff and I were negligent? Is it because he’s trying to cover himself in some way? Why did John Hickson look so sick about it all, and what was he doing last night at the Pharmacy to make him look so extraordinary when he pushed by us? Why was Derek Foster at such pains to tell us he was out last night? To make an alibi for himself? Is it because really he was here, and started the fire?
And come to think of it, what about those deaths and the part Sir James played in them? Was Chalky White telling us something important last night when he told us about the time a patient of Sir James’ died on the table?
And then there’s the nursing staff—did Staff Nurse Cooper really lock the anaesthetic room that night, or was she just creating a diversion in making such a fuss about it all?
By the time they reached the Pharmacy, Barney couldn’t think clearly at all. Indeed, he was so confused by his own thoughts that for a few moments he didn’t even notice Lucy was already there, looking crisp and fresh in her navy and white uniform, her hair curling prettily round her starched lace scrap of a cap. But she saw him immediately and felt good. No matter what happened, she was discovering, life was a pretty colourless business if Barney Elliot wasn’t around. And when he was, she could cope with anything—even the unhappy anxiety in his face. And she moved over to stand beside him in the burnt out shell of the main dispensing room, caring not a whit for the faintly raised eyebrows of Sister Osgood, who watched her closely.
They were all there, all the people who had been in Stroud’s office the previous day, even Sir James, but with the addition of John Hickson and Derek Foster, Mr. Bruce, who was sitting perched awkwardly on a pile of dusty masonry and looking rather ill, and Mr. Stroud’s secretary, whose thin face was agog with interest. She was the only person who seemed to be gaining any pleasure from the situation, with the exception of Inspector Spain, who turned from poking in the twisted metal shell of the safe as the three doctors arrived. He grinned agreeably at them.
Death on the Table Page 8
