by Ian Williams
‘Wake up lazy bones we’re here.’
‘Eh..what…where, oh right yeah.’ Ian sat upright in the passenger seat of Nicola’s Mercedes. He had got in the car at 5 a.m. croaked a hello then put the seat back and slept all the way there. They had made good time and were outside the offices of the NHS UK Transplant centre at nine. Ian wiped his left cheek where he had been drooling in his sleep. He wiped the leather seat head rest he had managed to drool all over with the sleeve of his coat. Thank god it was leather thought Ian.
‘You were snoring lazy arse’ stated Nicola as she shut her door
‘No I wasn’t…’ replied Ian
‘Well how would you know stupid, you were asleep’
‘Oh yeah, well never mind eh, that car is very comfy, shame you aren’t driving me back as well.’
‘Don’t push it Carragher. Come on we can get a sandwich and a coffee from that café over there as we have an hour.’
At 9:58 they walked into the building, through the glass rotating doors and up to the large polished wood and chrome reception desk. The girl with the nice eyes and a friendly smile asked ‘Yes Sir, Madam, can I help you?
‘Yes hello, we are here to see Mrs Sylvia Lawson please.’ Nicola stated as she held her Police ID in front of her as confirmation of who she was.
‘Thank you Inspector Trenchyard, Mrs Lawson is expecting you so I will phone her now to come and get you, you may take a seat over there.’ The receptionist said, pointing at two cream sofas in the corner to the left.
Ian and Nicola sat down. There was a large forty two inch flat screen TV on the wall showing Sky News. Luckily for Ian they were showing the sport report and he sat forward, craning his neck so he could hear what was being said. The volume of the TV was very low so it was tricky. Nicola picked up the Financial Times and began to read. The two of them were expecting to wait a while. However no sooner had Nicola finished the small front page article on the impending credit crunch in the US when a woman, probably in her fifties came bounding over. She wore a long black skirt and standard issue office white blouse with a long pearl necklace, gold watch and small black framed glasses perched on the top of her head, attached to a silver chain which was around her neck. On first glance Ian noticed she looked a little agitated but then didn’t most people when they were at work.
‘Hello Officers, I am Sylvia Lawson, how may I be of assistance?’
‘Hello, my name is DI Ian Carragher and this is Inspector Nicola Trenchyard. We are with the Metropolitan Police and would like to ask you some questions about donation of organs and their recipients.’ Ian responded in an official tone.
‘Well okay then, please come this way.’ Sylvia turned on her heels and led them through the security barriers and up to the silver doors of the elevators. As the button was pressed the elevator to the far left pinged and the doors opened. They went inside and stood in silence (as all people seem to do in lifts for some reason) and exited at the fifth floor. Sylvia escorted them to a small meeting room, with a table and six chairs. The strip lighting was quite severe so Sylvia turned the lights off and opened the grey roll top blinds. ‘I do so hate artificial light, it gives me terrible headaches, and I much prefer the natural stuff, don’t you?’ Before they could answer she continued ‘Now please make yourselves comfortable and can I get you a drink, its either water or brown sludge I am afraid, the coffee machine here leaves a lot to be desired.’
‘Coffee for me please Mrs Lawson and can you put three sugars in it, and Ms Trenchyard here will have a water.’
Sylvia exited the room to get the drinks. Ian and Nicola took off their jackets and put them on the backs of the chair. Nicola efficiently set up her laptop and got out all her notes. Ian put his mobile phone on silent and put a small notepad and pen on the table.
‘So you are telling me what to drink now are you DI Carragher’ Nicola said in a slightly annoyed tone.
‘Oh behave Nic, come on, you only ever drink water….or wine, and I figured at ten in the morning a large glass of Pinot Grigio is out of the question.’
Nicola was about to answer when Sylvia came back in the room holding two white plastic cups which she put down on the table. She was actually shaking slightly and nearly knocked the water all over Nicola’s laptop.
‘Are you okay Mrs Lawson?’ enquired Nicola.
‘Yes, sorry, I am getting a bit old and the nerves aren’t what they used to be. Also I have a lot of work on this week and am a bit behind so if I am being honest I could have done without this meeting today. Anyway never mind that, now before we proceed please can I see the court order which allows you to ask me questions.’
Nicola handed over an official looking document which had been signed by a judge confirming that the questions asked needed to be answered as best as possible but on the proviso that anonymity of the donors and recipients be kept intact as best as possible. Sylvia read the document page by page. There seemed no need to do this but she seemed to want to read every word so Nicola and Ian just sat there in silence for ten minutes waiting for Sylvia to finish.
‘Okay then, that all seems in order. Now please note it does say we must try and keep the anonymity of the donors and recipients intact so please don’t be offended if I ask you to re-phrase or refuse to answer your questions.’
‘Of course Mrs Lawson, we appreciate the need for confidentiality in these matters?’ answered Nicola.
‘Anyway Mrs Lawson?’ interrupted Ian ‘We would like to discuss a murder enquiry which is going on in London at the minute. You have probably heard there is a possible serial killer on the loose, it’s been on the news and in the papers extensively.’ Ian paused as Sylvia nodded slightly to confirm she was aware of the murders. ‘So what I would like to do is give you three names and I would like you to tell me who the donor was please. So firstly we have a James Benjamin Langan. He had his corneas replaced about twelve months ago. Next on the list is Mel Johnston. He had two heart valves replaced over two years ago and last on the list is Saul Barraghan, he had a liver transplant eighteen months ago. We would like to know if there is any link between the three as at the minute it seems hugely coincidental that three people have been murdered who have all had an organ donation in the last two years.
‘Okay, I have those details I will go and look. However please note officers you would be surprised how many people have actually had an organ donation in this country. Do you know that on average there are about three thousand operations a year, predominantly kidney transplants in about eighteen hundred cases but there are also operations for heart, liver, lungs, pancreas, small bowel, corneas, heart valves and bone can all be transplanted. Tell me, do you two have an organ donor card?’
‘Yes I do, Mrs Lawson, but to be honest I am not sure my bits are up to standard as I seem to abuse my body on a daily basis.’ Answered Ian almost immediately.
Sylvia gave Ian a funny look before exiting the room. Nicola looked at Ian, gave a large sigh, shook her head then continued to read her emails.
Sylvia was gone for about thirty minutes. When she came back she had various files with her which she loudly deposited on the desk before sitting down and placing her reading glasses on her nose. ‘Now then officers, I have had a look through the records and I have found the files on Mr Barraghan and Mr Johnston; however I am unable to find the files on Mr Langan. I will have to take a look for those. Somebody has probably got them on their desk somewhere. Anyway I would like to confirm to you that there is no link between the three people. If you don’t mind I won’t mention any names but I can confirm that Mr Barraghan received his liver from a donor in Chorleywood, Hertfordshire and Mr Johnston received his heart valves from a donor in Brighton. I will confirm the donor of Mr Langans corneas once I find the file.’
‘Ah, that’s a shame.’ Replied Ian ‘I thought there would have been a link as it is a strange coincidence. Could you please show me the file or at least some of it so I can confirm the details?’
‘Please Mr Carragher, I would r
ather not. Please just accept my word that this is the case. As the court papers state we must try and keep the anonymity intact.’
‘Yes I know that Mrs Lawson but please just for my own confidence just show me a part of it.’
Sylvia got more agitated and shaky. ‘To be honest DI Carragher, it’s a bit embarrassing really but we are having IT difficulties at the minute, there are a few teething troubles and to be honest I am getting on a bit now and it takes me longer and longer to work out how to work the new system. I will show you what I have but I need more time please in order to do a proper job.’
She took the file on Mel Johnston and covered most of it up before showing that the donor had been one Nicholas Donovan, and that the operation had taken place in Brighton. For the folder on Mel Johnston she was even more cautious and just showed them that the operation had happened in London but that the donors address was actually in Chorleywood, Hertfordshire.
Nicola looked at Ian and seemed satisfied with the explanation. But there was something knawing away at Ian which he didn’t quite like…then again that could have just been the sausage sandwich he had consumed earlier.
Ian and Nicola asked various other questions but the answers from Sylvia were often rambling and provided very little detail.
‘Okay then well thank you for your time Mrs Lawson, we won’t keep you any longer.’ So Ian and Nicola stood up, Nicola packed away her things in two minutes and Ian put his jacket on and shook Sylvia by the hand.
Sylvia escorted them downstairs where they were then signed out and left the building. Ian was in contemplative mood. Nicola looked at him and asked ‘Is there something up?’
‘I’m not sure Nic, she seemed a bit too agitated to me, and why not show us the files, it’s no big deal surely. I am going to ring somebody else up on Monday and get them to find the Langan file.’
So the two of them got in the car. Nicola dropped Ian off at the station where he caught the 13:30 back to London from Bristol. He was playing the events through in his head when he nodded off. He slept silently all the way back to London.
Meanwhile back in Bristol, Sylvia was making a phone call. She was twirling the phone cord around her hand, she still smelt of tobacco as she had been outside where she had just consumed three cigarettes in a row. She knew she had been nervous when the police were there but it seemed as if she had gotten away with it. However she was now more concerned with the phone call, what on earth had she started? How had it come to this? Was it all her fault? She needed answers, but the phone just kept on ringing……
Chapter 12 – ‘It’s pronounced Shemek you idiot’