“Oh, I didn’t know about the other doctors.”
“Yes, she went to the media about it, but only named Ben when she spoke to them. His Tourette’s Syndrome made him a soft target. It was easy for the media to paint him as weird.”
“That’s a shame,” said Fay.
“There was a lot of negative publicity for a while. Ben says he found it very hard. Eventually the lawsuit was dropped and the whole thing went away, but the damage had already been done.”
“I can imagine.”
“He didn’t have the stomach to carry on with his practice after his reputation had been ruined. So, he shut up shop and emigrated to the UK.”
Fay nodded as she absorbed this information. “The details on the internet are a little scanty.”
“It’s always hard to know what really happened after such a long time.”
“Exactly. That woman might have been misdiagnosed, only to have the medical fraternity close ranks against her. Or she might have been an attention-seeker who destroyed a good doctor’s reputation.”
“I’m glad it’s not my job to try and sort out the truth. By the way, Laetitia said I should thank you too for staying with Dad.”
Fay suspected that this might have been a white lie, but she appreciated the sentiment.
She left the surgery and walked up the steep hill leading to Penrose House. She wasn’t going home just yet. While she was sitting with Doc Dyer, she had received a text from Mrs. Binnie letting her know that there was a staff meeting happening at Sunset Acres.
Mrs. Binnie knew that Fay wanted to speak to the two night-shift nurses, Meredith Disick and Rowan Court. Today they would be in the same place at the same time.
As Fay walked along the road towards the retirement center, she noticed more overturned garbage cans with garbage strewn over a wide area. Someone had probably already reported it, but Fay worried about the vandalism it seemed to represent. It was unusual for Bluebell Village to attract that kind of mean-spirited destructiveness. She considered phoning the police station, but that would mean spending at least twenty minutes talking to Sergeant Jones’s extremely chatty mother.
She couldn’t afford the time. Luckily, she had recently acquired the private cellphone numbers of Bluebell Island’s finest.
She sent a text to Sergeant Jones letting him know that someone was tampering with garbage cans all over the village and then copied it to his junior officer, Constable Chegwin, as well.
Fay didn’t have a huge amount of faith that they would catch the culprit, but at least she had done her duty by reporting them.
She signed in at the guardhouse at Sunset Acres and made her way to the administrative offices next to the dining hall, where the staff meeting was being held. The guard told her that the meeting had started an hour earlier, so she hoped to catch the end of it.
As she arrived at the small conference room, the door opened, and people began filing out. The frail-care staff walked out together in a group, headed by Matron Sale. She looked surprised to see Fay.
“You again, Miss Penrose? What can we do for you this time?”
“I’d like to speak to Rowan and Meredith, if possible.”
“Are you still representing the Binnie family?”
“That’s right.”
“Then they can give you some time now. Most of us are going to the dining hall for lunch. Would you care to join us?”
Fay’s stomach rebelled at the thought of more soft food. “Oh, no thanks. I have to be somewhere for lunch. If I can just talk to the two of them, I’ll be on my way.”
Matron Sale signaled to Rowan. “You’re up, Nurse Court. You can use the room we were just in.”
Rowan Court was in his off-duty clothes – jeans and a T-shirt. Fay remembered that he and Meredith were on a break after a month of being on the night shift. He sat at the conference table and looked expectantly at Fay.
“As Mrs. Sale said, I represent the Binnie family, but I’m also interested in the death of Iona Busby. What did you make of two fairly healthy women like that passing away in similar circumstances within a few days of each other? They were relatively young too.”
Rowan looked thoughtful. “I think the fact that they were living in a retirement estate is an indication that they weren’t young by any measure.”
“True,” said Fay. “But you know what I mean. Compared to some of the other residents here they weren’t all that old. Mrs. Binnie had underlying health issues, but Mrs. Busby didn’t. She was perfectly healthy.”
“No one who has been admitted into the frail-care unit is perfectly healthy.”
“She’d had some local injections to remove moles on her back. She had a slight reaction to the anesthetic. That’s why she was being kept in overnight. Well, that’s what I was told.”
“That’s right,” said Rowan. “Dr. Farlow warned us to monitor her carefully. He told us – that’s Meredith and me – that an allergic reaction like that could affect a patient’s heart, especially when the patient was elderly, like Mrs. Busby. You ask Meredith – she’ll tell you the same thing.”
“But don’t you think it’s strange that two patients died in such a similar way at almost the same time? They both passed away in the early hours of the morning.”
Rowan rubbed a hand over his face as though he were still tired after his month of continuous night-shift work. “To tell you the truth, Miss Penrose, most of our patients pass away exactly like that. Their deaths are mostly caused by cardiac arrest. That means that the heart simply stops. Sometimes it is quiet and peaceful, and sometimes it is quite dramatic, with the body protesting its own end. Obviously as nurses it is easier for us when it’s less traumatic, but it doesn’t always work like that, sadly.”
“You must get quite attached to the patients over time.”
“Oh, we do. We get to know some of them really well. They confide their troubles to us. Many of them are finding retirement hard and don’t know what to do with themselves. They are used to being productive members of society and are struggling to find a purpose in life.”
“That’s hard.”
“It certainly is. And I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but it’s quite common for elderly patients to pass away at that time of night.”
“I’ve heard that, but I don’t understand why.”
“As medical professionals, we don’t completely understand it either, but the small hours of the morning are a low time for the human body. If someone is going to die, it will very often happen then.”
“So, you didn’t notice anything unusual on the nights they died? You didn’t notice anyone doing anything unusual or anyone who seemed out of place?”
“I can’t say I did. The usual people were there that evening - Penny Sweet from the candy store, Mrs. Tribble from the library, Dr. Farlow doing his ward rounds. And of course, Meredith and I. We’re both experienced nurses. Those patients did not die due to any negligence on our part, I can assure you. We monitored them frequently and did everything Dr. Farlow told us to do.”
Fay swiped through the information about the two nurses she had recorded on her phone. “You and Meredith both worked at large city hospitals before coming here, didn’t you? It must have been an adjustment to work in a small place like this.”
“Yes. It’s very different to my last job. But I like the slower pace of life here on the island. And the work keeps me busy enough. We offer medical services to every resident on the estate. If they can’t come into the frail-care unit for treatment, we make house calls to their cottages. It’s a demanding job, especially since they cut the number of duty nurses from three down to two.”
“I heard about that. Why did that happen?”
“Cost-cutting, I suppose. That’s the problem with privately run places like this. They’re always thinking about the bottom line. But we manage fine with just five nurses on duty. That’s three nurses on the day shift and two on the night shift. Yes, it’s more work for us, but you’ll find that
most nurses would rather be busy than sitting around twiddling their thumbs.”
“I can believe that.”
He gave Fay a long look.
“I presume the fact that you haven’t asked me why I left my last job means that you already know.”
“I do. I spoke to Mr. Argyle at Argyle Holdings. But it was one of the residents here that first tipped me off. There are rumors about you.”
His expression turned sad. “I suppose that incident will follow me around for the rest of my life. I should probably be thankful that I still have a job. Are you one of those that wants to see me publicly flogged?”
“Not at all. I can imagine nothing worse than seeing someone I love suffering. It must be the hardest thing in the world. You were asked to make a dreadfully difficult decision. I don’t know how I would have reacted in your shoes and I hope I never have to make that choice.”
He blinked hard and looked at his hands. “Thank you for understanding.”
“You’ve said that there’s no way Mrs. Binnie and Mrs. Busby died due to negligence, but what about due to a deliberate act? What if they were given something that made them go into cardiac arrest?”
He seemed to think about this. “What could they have been given though? I understand you have to look at every possibility, but that sounds far-fetched. What drug could cause that kind of reaction? Both patients were alone in their rooms when they went into distress. It would have to be something completely undetectable too, because Mrs. Busby’s blood was tested after her death. It just seems unlikely to me.”
Chapter 20
When Fay emerged from the conference room there was no sign of Meredith Disick.
She asked one of the residents and was told that the nurse had gone into the dining hall for lunch. She peeked in and saw her sitting at a table with Matron Sale and some of the other staff members.
“Are you sure you won’t join us for lunch, Miss Penrose?” asked Matron.
Fay looked at what was on offer. It was a thin lamb stew with watery mashed potatoes and overcooked vegetables.
“I’m afraid not, Matron. I’d like to speak to Nurse Disick and then I’ll be on my way.”
Meredith pulled a face as she led Fay to a different table so they could talk privately.
“You already spoke to me at the frail-care unit,” she said. “I don’t know what more you want from me.”
“I thought you might have something new to add. You’ve had a chance to think about what happened. Do you still think that those two women died of natural causes?”
“I don’t know.” Meredith looked troubled. “Taken in isolation, neither death is suspicious. They were both getting along in years and were in the frail-care unit for a reason. I admit that when you look at their deaths happening back to back like that and in such similar circumstances, it does raise questions. I can understand why Mrs. Binnie’s family is not happy.”
“They are very distressed. Especially since the same thing happened to someone else so soon afterwards.”
“All I can say is that Rowan and I did nothing wrong. When those patients started to go into cardiac arrest, we did everything we could to bring them back. Rowan especially. I was ready to call time on our resuscitation efforts, but he insisted on carrying on for another fifteen minutes. We were both shocked and upset by the outcome.”
“What medications were the patients on?”
“Mrs. Binnie was on cortisone and antibiotic tablets that she was taking herself orally. She also had an inhaler to keep her chest open. And then there was the drip. I’m not sure what that was for. Maybe hydration and electrolytes.”
“What about Mrs. Busby?”
“She was given adrenalin as soon as she started to react to the local anesthetic. Then she was put on oral antihistamines. And she also had a drip to keep her hydrated.”
“Who ordered the drips?”
“Dr. Farlow. He’s a big believer in drips. He likes to keep the patients hydrated.”
“And how long before her death was Mrs. Busby given adrenalin?”
Meredith stopped eating as she tried to remember. “It must have been in the morning. She had her mole-removal procedure done in the morning and was given adrenalin by Doc Dyer as soon as she started to react to the anesthetic. She was admitted to the frail-care unit at about midday and passed away at around five o’clock the next morning. The adrenalin couldn’t have been responsible for her death. It was given many hours earlier.”
“Once a drip bag has been set up for a patient, is it quite easy to introduce a new kind of medication in addition to what is already being given? Or do you have to wait until the bag is empty and then set up another one?”
“No. It’s easy to introduce a new medication via a port in the drip line. You don’t have to wait for the bag to be finished.”
“What is the atmosphere like among the staff members at the frail-care unit since these deaths occurred?”
Meredith shrugged. “I’ve been on my break for the last few days, so I can’t really say. I believe there’s a lot of security in the unit now, and some staff members are finding that difficult. I’ve also heard that Argyle Holdings – that’s our parent company – has approved extra funding for the unit. I’m sure Matron is happy about that. She has been campaigning for more money for months.”
“Is that in response to the deaths, do you think?”
“It must be. They’re probably afraid of being sued. They don’t want people to think that patient deaths could have been caused by cost-cutting.”
“In your opinion, who should I speak to next in connection with the deaths? What would be a good use of my time?”
Meredith started eating her lunch. “There were only five of us there on those nights, apart from the patients. There was me, Rowan, the candy-striper girl, the library lady, and Dr. Farlow. Mind you, I thought I heard Matron’s voice the one evening, but I could have been mistaken about that. She would have left hours earlier.”
“Which night was that?”
“It was the second night – the night Iona Busby died. But as I say, I must have been mistaken. There were just five of us there until sometime after eight o’clock, and then there were just the two of us. As the nightshift nurses, we are alone with the patients for a ten-hour stretch every night.”
“It’s a big responsibility.”
“Yes, it is. But it’s one I’m always happy to assume. I’m just horrified that this happened on my watch. You’ve probably heard about the scandal at my last place of employment. This job is a second chance for me. I can’t stand the thought that something might happen to make me lose my position.”
“I’m sure no one wants to see that,” said Fay.
“If I seemed a bit defensive earlier, that’s why. I should have learnt from my previous experience that it is always better to talk things out. If I had only gone to the prescribing doctor back then and queried the dosage he had written down - instead of assuming that he was a short-tempered demigod who could do no wrong - that patient would be alive right now and I would still have a job in Yorkshire.”
Lunch at Penrose House consisted of a fragrant beef stroganoff served on a bed of tagliatelle noodles. It was accompanied by a green salad.
Fay could only be glad that she had not said yes to the watery stew at Sunset Acres. Morwen, Maggie, and Pen were full of anxious questions about Doc Dyer’s health. All they knew was that Fay had run off during breakfast when she heard he was ill.
“I stopped off at the surgery for an update on my way back here from Sunset Acres,” she said. “He’s more wakeful now as the sedative leaves his body. They say he’s recovering fast.”
Morwen handed the bowl of noodles to Pen. “That is such a relief. I can’t imagine how we would go on as a community without Doc Dyer. Quite apart from being the local doctor, he serves on every committee in town. And he’s a total sweetheart.”
“He’s the nicest man on earth,” agreed Maggie. “I didn’t even know he had he
art trouble. He always seemed so healthy.” Her voice broke on the last word as she gave way to unaccustomed emotion. Her grandmother’s death had rattled her badly.
“David doesn’t think he has a weak heart,” said Fay. “He thinks this was a one-off thing and that he’ll be fine soon.” She knew she sounded vague, but she was more determined than ever not to spread panic. Whoever was doing this was accelerating at a frightening pace. Causing panic seemed to be part of what they were hoping to achieve. They were probably wondering why the island wasn’t in an uproar already.
Pen nodded so that his chin almost dipped into his food. “Aye. I’ve known young Barty Dyer since we was boys together. He’s an ace bloke he is.”
Fay understood this to be praise of a high order.
“What’s the latest on my gran?” asked Maggie.
“There are a few people I still need to speak to. Apparently, there was money going missing from the frail-care unit. The company that owns Sunset Acres suspected the matron. That’s why they wouldn’t authorize any more spending in the unit even though they were doing things like upgrading the golf club.”
“Wow. Have you told my parents that?”
“I’ll email them an update this afternoon. Interestingly, Argyle Holdings have just authorized more funds for the unit today. They must have realized how it looks to have patients dying in their care while they are trying to save money.”
“I hear there used to be three nurses on duty at a time and now there are only two,” said Morwen.
“That’s true. They also hired two nurses who would accept a lower salary because of blots on their records.”
“What kind of blots?” Maggie’s eyes were narrow.
“The one misread a doctor’s handwriting on a prescription, but that seems to have been more the doctor’s fault than hers.”
“And the other?”
“He bought painkillers for his terminally ill mother knowing that she was planning to use them to overdose.”
The Cat That Was Bigger Than You Page 12