The Reckless Engineer

by Jac Wright

  Wednesday was a cold day with the wind stealing in through the window that Sally had messed up. After the evening meal she took about four of the powerful painkillers she had been covertly hiding in her cheek and saving. Her shoulder was healing well and the pills should take care of the pain. It was a hospital regulation that the doors of the patients’ rooms be kept ajar at night. During the day she messed up the window a little more, and went to bed with three of the duvets over her. The night nurse came in and tried to close the window to keep the cold winds out of the lounge. Having failed, she closed the door to Sally’s room fully.

  Good, that would block out any noise and lessen the risk of being seen.

  According to the ward regulations the nurse on duty had to check the patients from the window to the lounge every half hour after dark-look in through the window at the patient sleeping just below it, and mark the register. It was called a “check-in.”

  As soon as the 9:00 p.m. check-in was done, Sally slipped out of bed and started making her rope by knotting the ends of the six bed sheets with the rock climbers’ Fisherman’s knot to form one long “rope.” She knotted the middle of the sheets at every two feet to give herself further grip. One bed sheet cleared about four fifths of a floor. She knotted together four sheets to clear the four floors. The other two picked up the slack and gave her enough length to tie the top end to something strong. She completed the knots and had her rope ready in less than 12 minutes. She then slipped back to bed to await the next check-in.

  After the 9:30 p.m. check-in, Sally got back to work. She ripped a corner of one pillow open and carefully emptied half of the stuffing to a pillowcase until the remainder formed a shape roughly the size of her head. She pushed everything under her bed, got back into bed, and awaited the next check-in.

  After the 10:00 p.m. check-in Sally fitted the screwdriver head she had tested to the screw of the right rod holding the windowpane from opening out. In a couple of minutes she had it off. Then she tied one end of her “rope” to the metal bar of the bed that was cemented to the floor and flung the rest of the rope out of the window. The part of the white sheet “rope” running from the bed to the window was too conspicuous; the nurse would spot it and she would not have enough time to get away. She climbed out the window, holding onto the rope and tied the free end of her “rope” to a metal sewer pipe running down the wall about 2 feet from her window. She tugged at the rope to test that the metal brackets attaching the pipe to the wall at regular intervals—the one at her room level—stopped the “rope” from slipping down the pipe. She climbed back in, untied the end of the rope tied to the bed post, folded the “rope” into loops, and hung it out the window from the rod she had unscrewed. She then closed the window with the “rope” now dangling outside and out of sight.

  After the 10:30 p.m. check-in Sally got up, wrung out the rainwater from her wet “rope” and tied both her shoes to what was to be the bottom end. She then arranged the pillows under the three duvets to look like her sleeping figure. It was the norm that the patients slept with their heads under the shadow just below the check-in window to keep the light out of their eyes. In this space Sally arranged the small pillow wrapped in her black sweater. It looked like the head of her sleeping figure.

  Then she dropped the shoes out the window, holding onto the top part of the rope. She climbed out, closed the window behind her, and abseiled down the wall. At the bottom she untied her shoes off her “rope” and tied the rope to the pipe at the foot of the building. She then ran around the building to her car, got in, started it quietly, and drove slowly into the dripping darkness of the night.

  Sally drove straight home for she had only wanted to get to her bed. She parked the car a block down so that the neighbours would not notice, walked to her house and let herself in into the darkness, tripping over the post. She felt around and picked up the post while her eyes adjusted to the thicker darkness inside. Without switching the lights on, she walked upstairs in the dark. She turned the heating on, took all her wet clothes off, and laid them out over the radiators. She then got into the warmth and comfort of her bed and went to sleep.

  Sally woke about an hour past midnight and decided she would sleep in her bed and wait for the police to come and get her, for she knew that they would come for her. Not only had Michelle and Jack ruined her career and bullied her out of the country, but had also kicked her out of her own house and bed.

  In great distress she got out of bed and back into her clothes. She had left her shoes in her car. She slipped on a pair of black tennis shoes. Putting latex gloves on and using a small penlight torch, she entered the garage through the exit from the kitchen and took out one of the three boxes of chocolates. Back in her small office on the ground floor she typed up the message from Jack on her PC: “Congratulations on our little baby boy! Love, Jack.” She printed it out on extra thick embossed paper, cut it, and made it into a nice card. She tied a red ribbon around the box and stuck the card on with a bit of tape.

  2:20 a.m. Sally drove over to Michelle’s house and parked the car two blocks away. She walked through the deserted street and slipped the box of chocolates through the letterbox. The only hard part was the climb back up the hospital wall which she managed after returning to her car and putting on her rock climbing shoes she had in the boot-Boreal boots with flat rubber-soles made for grip.

  Back in her room in the hospital, she slipped straight into bed and awaited the next check-in. After the 4:30 check-in, Sally pulled up and wrung out the water from her rope, untied the bed sheets, folded and put them away behind her stack of pillows in the cupboard. She reconstructed the pillow she had taken apart. Then she screwed up the window, slipped back into bed, and went to sleep.

  The next morning Sally told each nurse on duty that she had used all the sheets because it had been a cold night, but she had wet her bed because she’d been frightened of the thunder and the howling winds. She had tried washing them in the patients’ bathtub, but they were not clean, she said. She wanted her dry bed sheets back, she cried, because her cupboard was bare. The unsuspecting nurses gave Sally a fresh stack of sheets to keep in her cupboard.

  CHAPTER 42

  Wednesday, November 3 — Nineteen Days Later

  Jeremy was twelve minutes late for Sally’s Section 2 Appeal hearing. He should not have worried because Alan had made it there himself and had held back the hearing waiting for Jeremy’s arrival. Alan was not a man who liked to do things alone. He was always at the top of a group of people he trusted, such as Jack, Sally, and Jeremy, and he worked the team together.

  Dr. Phil Harding opposed Sally’s discharge. He agreed that Sally’s mental state had improved somewhat since the visits from Alan and Jeremy, but he was not yet certain that she was not a threat to herself or to others. Despite their delivering her personal possessions to her, she was still hoarding pillows and bed sheets and there were signs of great inner disturbance of mind from a series of stresses in her life aggravated by sustained bullying.

  Alan made a persuasive case for her release. It was not the hospital but the company of her friends and her work that had improved her mental state and lifted her from the depression, he argued.

  In the end, the hearing managers ruled to grant a conditional discharge, “with great reservations” and despite protests from Doctor Harding, on the basis that Sally would voluntarily check herself in every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday until further review of her condition.

  Back in her room, Alan and Jeremy helped Sally pack her things.

  ‘Jeremy, I can take it from here if you need to be back to Jack and Harry. I heard on the news that the police were heading out to charge the real murderers,’ Alan offered.

  Sally dropped her clothes and sat down on the bed.

  ‘Yes, they are charging Caitlin McAllen and Gavin Hunter, Caitlin’s lover and the father of her child, for the murder. Harry is with Jack getting his charges dropped. Harry’s got it all in hand. I can stay with you guys.’r />
  On their way out Alan insisted that Sally stay with him for a few nights.

  ‘I’m worried about your staying alone right now. The kids are with their mother and I have a big empty house. I will set up the guest bedroom for you.’

  ‘Thanks, Alan, but it would be good to be in my own bed again. I need to clean out the house, the car, and the garage. There’s no one who can do it for me. I can come over next week and we can get started on the Marine work.’

  In the end, Alan reluctantly agreed to return to work while Jeremy drove Sally home in her car and stayed with her for the afternoon.

  Alan and Jeremy took Sally’s cases and walked with her to her car.

  Suddenly about seven or eight plain-clothed policemen sprang out from the unmarked vehicles parked around Sally’s Golf.

  ‘Sally Trotter. We are arresting you on suspicion for the murder of Michelle Williams and for the child destruction of her unborn baby. You do not have to say anything when questioned . . .’

  Sally fainted into Jeremy’s arms.

  CHAPTER 43

  Wednesday, November 3 — Nineteen Days Later

  Despite his state of shock, Alan, as Sally’s appointed legal guardian, had the presence of mind to call back Matt Jennings, the mental health solicitor, and send him to the police station after Sally.

  Matt listened carefully to Alan’s disjointed briefing in the hospital car park and to Jeremy’s clarification of the situation. After calling his office, Jennings reassured Alan that he would do his best.

  ‘I’ve just talked to our criminal department. We think the chances are good, with some assistance from Dr. Harding, that we can successfully argue temporary insanity and have Sally taken to a secure psychiatric unit in hospital rather than to a prison. The police have already searched her house and her car before arresting her. It should have been done on a warrant, er, one minute please.’

  Jennings answered his ringing mobile and spoke briefly into it.

  ‘That was my associate from Criminal Defence. He’s at the police station. I need to meet him there first and then come back here to see Dr. Harding. Rest assured Mr. Walters that we shall handle everything in the best possible interest of the patient. I shall call to update you as soon as possible.’

  Jennings hurried off to his car.

  After touching base with Harry, who was on his way to Jack’s house, the charges against him dropped and the case dismissed, they agreed that Jeremy would stay with a shocked Alan. Harry forewarned that the police had just broken the news of Sally’s arrest and her being charged to the press for political reasons—to calm the public unrest over a bungling investigation and to minimize any lawsuits for damages arising from a bevy of false arrests. Magnus Laird had called Harry also and updated him that his associate Tim Brown and he were at the police station to pick up Douglas McAllen, Caitlin and, apparently, Gavin Hunter. Caitlin and Douglas McAllen were bringing Gavin home! This was going to be an interesting afternoon at the McAllen-Connor mansion. Correction, the McAllen mansion.

  Alan asked if he could stop by his room at the Marriott, which was just a block down the road from the AirWater Marine building, for a break before he had to face his panicking engineers again.

  ‘I don’t understand. This has to be a mistake. Sally was stuck in that hospital all this time. There is no way she could have done it. Did you know about the arrest in advance?’

  Alan sank into the couch in Jeremy’s hotel room and gratefully accepted a scotch whiskey.

  ‘She did it, Alan. She might have been not quite right in her mind when she did it, but she did it. I did know about the impending arrest, but I was told by the police to play it that way on my way to the hospital, to let the appeal and the review of her mental health conclude without any knowledge of the impending charges biasing it so that the lawyers could not manufacture an insanity defence. The police had the building surrounded all the while we were in that hearing. If I had gone against the police instructions in any way, I could have been facing charges myself—attempting to pervert the course of justice or something, they said. It could go well for her that Dr. Harding declared her unfit for release while having no knowledge of the impending arrest.’

  ‘When did you know? How could she have done it? She was in a secure hospital all the time.’

  ‘I knew when I was in the courtroom today, and I could kick myself for not seeing it sooner. The first clue was Sally’s shoes. She was arrested wearing her normal high-heeled ankle boots, you see. She dug one three-inch heel into Jack’s side and broke two ribs. I was reminded of it this morning, but it has been right in front of my eyes all this time. Yet when we came to see her, her first ever visitors, she only had her rock-climbing boots with her. The only way she could have got them was either from her house or from her car. So she had been out of that hospital.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I should have seen it, too. She always wore those high-heeled black boots to work with her jeans, and yet she was wearing the rock climbing shoes when I first saw her too. And the hospital told me I was her first ever visitor.’

  ‘The second clue was in what I picked up from her flat. The list that the nurse wrote down and had me sign was in my inside jacket pocket all this time. It fell on my lap this morning while I was in the court. I was asked to pick up only the post in through the door on the hallway carpet, and there were magazines only from the Thursday that Michelle’s body was found. She has these sporting magazines and the Sunday papers delivered every day of the week, you see, and the numbers of magazines was wrong for Friday, Saturday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday—one less than there should have been. She was taken to hospital straight after work on Friday, October 8, and I went to her house late Monday, October 25, to pick up her things. There should have been fifteen magazines and three Sunday papers, but there were only ten magazines and two Sunday papers. She made it clear that she had no one else who could enter her house or do her cleaning. So Sally had been in her house that Wednesday, the day before Michelle’s death. She had picked up her post from the carpet sometime after about 12 noon, the latest time for the post, and left it elsewhere. I just picked up what was left on the carpet from Thursday the 14th of October, and the very thorough nurse went through them to list everything when I brought them to the hospital.’

  ‘So Sally must have been in her house Wednesday afternoon or Wednesday night.’

  ‘I then thought about why she would choose her climbing boots. I have noticed, by personal experience that it is very easy to abseil down a wall, but it is very difficult to climb back up without proper grip on your feet. Where would Sally have anything to climb? Only the hospital wall under the window of her room. Then everything clicked into place—the bed sheets, the Swiss Army Knife, the damaged window, everything. She must have tied up the bed sheets and made a rope to get out.’

  Alan nodded, speechless.

  Jeremy continued: ‘I came in early for the appeal meeting today and met a detective from the CID, one of Edwards’ men, outside the hospital building, and sure enough there were muddy shoeprints leading up the wall to the window, and bare footprints on the ground running away from the window. It rained that day and it hasn’t rained since; we think Sally must have come back very late for it stopped raining about midnight. Hence, some of the prints have been preserved very well. It was her boot print. The police had enough for a search warrant and Harry said that Judge Morgan issued it right in front of him.’

  ‘Is it the timing of her excursion that ties her to the murder?’

  ‘That, and the fact that the vial of poison was found exactly where her car had stopped at Jack’s house. The motive was also strong given her recent turbulent relationship with both the murder victim and Jack. It gave them enough for a search warrant, and they have found everything she has used to make the poison in her garage. The extra chocolate boxes injected with cyanide were in her fridge, the extra vials in her car, and the typed message from Jack to Michelle on her computer: “Congratulations
on our little baby boy” everything.’

  ‘That witch put Sally through hell, Jeremy. Michelle had lied to her that I was having an affair with her (Michelle) and that I had issued the orders to remove her from her project, to fire Sally, and to refuse her a reference. She had all of us convinced that the notes to Jack’s family that Michelle had sent herself were from Sally, as you know. Sally came to me early on with her problem, Jeremy, and so did Douglas McAllen, the wise old man. And I did not have the foresight to fire Michelle. What kind of manager am I? It was all my fault.’ Alan’s shoulders slumped. He hid his face in his hands.

  ‘Please don’t beat yourself up about it, Alan. Harry thinks that Sally will succeed with a temporary insanity defence. She won’t be treated harshly.’

  Jeremy decided to leave it at that. He knew Alan was talking out of friendship and possibly love. Alan was to Sally what Jeremy was to Jack, and likely more. Alan had forgiven Sally. Alan would forgive her anything.

  CHAPTER 44

  Monday, November 15 — One Month Later

  Jeremy took a sip of coffee and watched the rising steam reveal hidden rays in the sunlight. A mid-morning sun was beaming down at Harry and him through the wall wide window, lighting a long stripe at the edge of the table and the carpet and touching Harry’s shoulders from behind on its slow exit out of the Barrett Stavers boardroom on the 4th floor offices of 127 Fleet Street. Harry was seated at the head of the table on the sunlit end and Jeremy was seated to his left with steaming mugs of coffee on the table before them.

  Jeremy twisted his ball pen round and round in circles with his two forefingers without dropping it. His world was sunny indeed. Brilliantly, outrageously sunny.

  ‘So Jack’s moved out of the McAllen house, ha?’ Harry asked, fishing for gossip.