‘As much as I appreciate your attempt at wit, this is murder we are dealing with. I must insist that we put these feeble scruples aside and –’
McGray grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out of the office. ‘Sorry, Doctor. Ye don’t need to hear what I’m gonnae tell this dandy.’ He banged the door and whispered irately: ‘Keep yer sanctimonious police procedure shite to yerself! I won’t let ye ruin Clouston’s career.’
‘Sanctimonious! Is that not too long a word for you?’
I thought he was going to punch me. ‘It’s not a bloody joke, Frey.’
‘You owe your loyalties to Clouston and I understand that. In fact, I understand it too well. Which makes me think it would be best for everyone if you were not involved in this case.’
‘How could I not be?’ McGray rubbed his face in frustration. ‘When my sister and me were in the worst way he stepped in. Haven’t ye just heard? He even saved the bloody house where yer staying now!’
‘Not because I want to, I may add –’
‘Of course I bloody owe him!’ McGray banged his fist on the wall. ‘Now that he needs help, I’ll do anything I can, even if it takes me all the way to hell.’
Then he turned and went back in, slamming the door mightily.
‘I’m sure you will,’ I said with a sigh, ‘and you will drag me with you.’
4
While we waited for our forensic man to arrive, Clouston let us use his office to make our preliminary enquiries. The first person we called was the head nurse, Cassandra Smith.
An unassuming woman in her late thirties, she could not have been called handsome, with her brittle hair, dull skin and wrinkles around her eyes. Her hands, long and lean, had been mercilessly roughened by work. Still, there was a certain sharpness in the way she talked and held our stares. That, and her immaculate apron, told me she was a very intelligent, diligent person. She was, understandably, very stressed, but seemed to compose herself rather well: she must have seen things as grim as this before.
‘I must apologize for those ants,’ she said before we had a chance to ask her anything. I could tell she was suppressing some of her Scottish dialect for my benefit. ‘That entire corridor has been infested for a while. We’ve tried everything, but not even the winter’s affected them.’
She was looking at me with rather motherly concern, and I had to clear my throat in embarrassment.
‘It is quite all right, miss,’ I replied as I jotted her name in my pocket notebook.
‘Clouston tells us ye weren’t supposed to be around,’ McGray said.
‘Aye, Mr McGray,’ she replied with some familiarity; she must know him well, after looking after his sister for five years. ‘I was taking the morning off to see my father. He hasn’t been well – very auld, the poor man.’
‘Sorry to hear that, hen. So why did ye come back?’
‘I thought I wouldn’t need my hat. Very silly of me – in the small hours on a winter’s night.’
I frowned a little. ‘What time was that?’
‘I’d say past midnight, sir.’
‘Were you heading off that late?’
‘Aye, sir. That’s when my shift ended.’
‘Do you live in the city?’
‘Aye, sir. Not far from the Meadows.’
I frowned a little more. ‘Was it safe to go home on your own, at that time, on such a dark night?’
‘Oh, I wasn’t alone, sir. Tom was leaving as well and he has a cart, y’see. I usually try to match my shifts with his or other people’s, Dr Clouston included. Sometimes it’s not possible; then I simply spend the night here.’
I nodded, making a quick note to question this Tom character too.
‘Tell us what happened when ye came back,’ McGray asked.
For a moment Miss Smith fixed her dark eyes on the wall, her lips tense. ‘Well, as I told youse, it was too cold so I asked Tom to come back. I went to my desk, in the nurses’ quarters, and it was then that I heard a noise. Shattering plates – I’ve heard it so many times when the patients throw their meals at us. Then I heard her screaming. I didn’t recognize her voice at first; she sounded odd. I guess she must have been choking.’
‘Did you go directly to the room?’
‘Well, no. First I ran back to the entrance; I was going to call Tom. I knew something was wrong and I didn’t want to go up there on my own. We have a number of violent patients.’
‘Did you manage to call him?’
‘No. I hadn’t reached the door when I heard the window smashing. It was an awful sound, sir, and Miss Greenwood sounded in anguish, so I turned on my heels and went directly to her.’
‘That was bold,’ Nine-Nails said.
‘Aye, Mr McGray. I probably shouldn’t have, but when I found her I was glad I did. The poor girl was shaking and – well, youse saw her.’
‘Dr Clouston said she mentioned poison.’
‘Aye. She said the word “poisoned”. Once. I’m surprised she managed to talk at all when youse were there. She had convulsions and then vomited, and –’
She swiftly produced a handkerchief and covered her mouth. There were tears pooling in her eyes.
‘Were you close to her?’ I asked.
‘I try to be close to all the girls,’ she said with a certain pride, ‘but Miss Greenwood was particularly quiet. She kept a lot to herself.’
‘Can you tell us anything about her personal life at all?’
‘Well, a little. I know that she had no kin in Edinburgh. She was born in Cumbria and apparently she had to come north after some … awkward family affair.’
I looked up. ‘Do you know anything about that affair?’
‘Not really. She wasn’t keen to talk about it, and it’s not my place to speculate. If youse want details about her life, the best person to talk to would be Miss Oakley.’
‘Another nurse, I assume?’
‘Aye. She’s one of the most recent hires. In fact, Miss Greenwood was in charge of her training. They became very close.’
‘Can ye call her?’
‘I’m afraid she’s been ill for the past couple of days, but I can give youse her address. She’s a very well-mannered lass, and I’m sure she’ll answer all your questions.’
She was already reaching for a pen and paper from Clouston’s desk. When she handed me the note I saw how swollen and reddened her eyes were.
‘One last thing,’ I said. ‘Did anything else odd happen yesterday? Anything at all, no matter how inconsequential it may seem.’
She twisted her mouth almost wryly. I sensed trouble coming.
‘Indeed, sir. Two things. Well, one is rather silly.’
‘Tell us.’
She hesitated, but in the end she did speak. ‘I mention this simply because I know youse will hear it from some of the girls. The moon.’
McGray leaned forwards. ‘The moon? D’ye mean the lack of it?’
‘Aye, sir. Some patients have told us they’ve seen … ghosts, apparitions … lurking around, always on new moon nights.’
McGray’s eyes widened. His pupils cradled that spark that I’ve come to fear.
‘Silly indeed,’ I said in a monotone, ‘but I shall take note of it anyway.’
‘What d’ye ken about those ghosts?’ McGray was angling now.
Miss Smith shrugged. ‘Not much, sir. I’ve heard a few patients and orderlies talking about dark, shadowy figures, apparently wandering through the corridors and sometimes the gardens, but only when there’s no moon in the sky.’
‘Take good note o’ that, dandy,’ McGray told me.
‘You mentioned two things,’ I prompted, trying to put an end to the talk of ghosts. ‘The second is … ?’
Miss Smith looked intently at McGray. ‘That’s a wee bit more … delicate.’
‘Go on.’
‘Youse noticed that all this mayhem happened in the room right next to Miss McGray’s.’
I could see Nine-Nails slowly clenching his hands, his entire body becoming t
ense. ‘Aye.’
‘Well, sir, that’s not by coincidence. They were – sort of friends.’
‘Friends? What d’ye mean?’
‘Mr McGray, as you know, Pansy – excuse me for talking about her with such familiarity – she never said a word after Dr Clouston brought her in. After her violent fits receded, she became what youse see now: silent, barely aware of her surrounds; all she does is stare out of the window …’
McGray turned his face away.
‘I’m sorry, sir.’
He shook his head. ‘Don’t apologize, hen. Go on.’
‘Well, Lord Bampot – you’ll excuse me, we came to call him that because of the privacy issue – he liked his books. They seemed to be the one thing that kept him from another suicide attempt – he suffered acute depression – so we encouraged him to read aloud for other patients. Pansy was still rather unstable, but she seemed to find his voice soothing. And then, when she finally became quiet but absent, those readings had the opposite effect: where everything else had failed, they appeared to bring her a little nearer to us. I could see the life coming back into her eyes. I could almost swear that I saw her leaning forwards or gripping the arms of her chair whenever Lord Bampot read an exciting passage of Wilkie Collins.’
‘How come no one told me?’ McGray asked.
‘Oh, sir, I never thought much of it. It was all so faint. I’d compare it to her reactions when you come to visit: a slight tilt o’ the head, a flicker in her eyes, a squeeze when ye hold her hand, that sort of thing.’
I arched an eyebrow. ‘So why do you think it is relevant now?’
Miss Smith’s mouth was tenser, fine wrinkles deepening around her lips.
‘I’m sure I heard them talking.’
I saw McGray’s chest swell, and I could almost feel the heartbeat he’d skipped.
‘What! When?’ he asked, gasping.
‘Last night, a few hours before it all happened, I’d say. Lord Bampot was in Pansy’s room; I took him there to read for her. I stayed around as usual, but I had to leave briefly for an emergency. I left the door ajar, of course, and stayed close enough to hear if anything happened. I came back a few minutes later, and just as I was about to reach the door – I heard them.’
McGray stood up and began pacing as before, covering his mouth with his bad hand.
‘That I was going to tell ye, Mr McGray,’ Miss Smith added. ‘I was going to ask Dr Clouston to send ye a message the next morning – well, today.’
McGray meditated for a moment, stroking his stubble. ‘Yer absolutely sure?’
‘Aye, sir. Not a shade of doubt.’
‘Could ye … hear what they said?’
She sighed, frowning. ‘I’m sorry. They were whispering. I couldn’t make out a word. I didn’t want to interrupt them, so I stood by the door until they were finished, which was very soon. Then I waited a good while, and only walked in when I was sure they wouldn’t resume.’
‘What happened then?’ I asked.
‘It was suppertime, sir, so I took Lord Bampot back to his room to be fed. After that I made a note to tell Dr Clouston first thing in the morning. I thought that, if Mr McGray agreed, of course, we could repeat the experiment: pretend to leave them alone and see if the lass spoke again.’
McGray turned around and stepped slowly towards the window, simply to stare out in silence.
I looked back at Miss Smith after a moment. ‘Had you left them alone before?’
‘Oh, occasionally, sir, but never for more than a couple of minutes and I’d always be within hearing distance. However, I don’t tend to them the entire time. It could have happened that a more junior nurse or an orderly left them alone for longer.’
‘We should probably question them too,’ I said, but there was a sombre look on Miss Smith’s face.
‘Well, sir … one of those nurses youse just saw die.’
5
My pocket watch showed a quarter past five when Dr Reed arrived, his face lined with pillow marks.
I still cannot believe he is the chief forensic for Edinbugh’s CID. The chap is in his early twenties but he looks sixteen; with his plump cheeks, childish eyes and totally hairless chin he always reminds me of a fidgety cocker spaniel. The young man is smart and capable, that I cannot deny, but as a fresh graduate his practical experience can only be described as limited.
I sighed impatiently as I saw him lean over Miss Greenwood’s dead body, his eyes open a little too wide for my liking.
‘It does look like strychnine poisoning,’ he said. ‘Typical arching of the back and …’
‘Can you perform a full post-mortem?’ I urged, for I knew all the symptoms by heart. ‘And I need you to look thoroughly; do not let the obvious signs distract you from other possibilities.’
‘Aye, sir.’
The body was taken away then, covered with a thick blanket that could not conceal the dreadful contortion of the woman’s back.
McGray and I were left in the wrecked room to do our own search. I was about to kneel down to look under the bed when someone knocked at the door. It was Sergeant Millar, a young man with possibly the fieriest ginger hair I have ever seen. He was struggling to catch his breath.
‘Sirs, we found this trail of footprints in the gardens. Youse should come and see it.’
‘Once we’ve inspected this room,’ I told him, but the young man faltered.
‘What is it?’ McGray asked.
‘Well – sirs, it’s snowing hard. The trail will be gone soon.’
McGray and I turned to the window and immediately understood the urgency: the large snowflakes were not fluttering but falling hard. I calculated that we had a matter of minutes before every mark on that lawn was covered.
‘Come on, Frey. The laddie’s right.’
I drew nearer to McGray as we walked to the gardens. ‘We need more hands, McGray. This is becoming too complex to handle on our own: we have people to question, a room to inspect, Lord Ardglass’s medical files to go through, the surroundings to search … and then your sister to –’
McGray stopped, a hand over his mouth, the stump of his missing finger standing out. ‘Yer right,’ he groaned. ‘And it bloody annoys me when yer right. It gets ye all giddy.’
‘McGray …’
‘Send a note to Campbell. Tell him we need an extra couple of DIs, but I will assign their duties. Understood?’
He and Millar were away before I could respond. I asked a nurse to bring me pen and paper, and hastily scribbled a message to the superintendent. On my way out I gave it to one of the officers guarding the entrance, to be delivered immediately, no matter where Campbell was.
‘Frey, here!’ McGray shouted as soon as I stepped out. I saw him following Sergeant Millar, who lighted the grounds with a large lantern.
As I approached I saw the sharp shadows of a messy trail. I could imagine a grown man stamping and kicking the snow as he marched northwards.
‘No missing horses,’ Millar was saying, his hair alarmingly orange in the light. ‘He went on foot.’
‘Which means he might still be close,’ McGray said with a note of excitement.
We followed the footprints to the limits of the garden, where a thick, tall brick wall stood.
‘Did he climb over?’ I asked, but then Millar shed the light on a small servants’ gate. The oak was old and worn out, with a rusty iron latch that had been ripped off.
I nearly leaped forwards but Nine-Nails held me by the shoulder.
‘Don’t play the heroine,’ he said as he unholstered his revolver. As soon as I followed his example he kicked the shabby gate open.
Millar panned the light from left to right as we walked into the impenetrable darkness of the surrounding fields.
‘How could anyone find his way like this?’ I muttered, straining to see any hint of light ahead of us.
‘Guard our backs,’ McGray told me. ‘Lord Bampot might still be around.’
As soon as I turned I understo
od the vulnerability of our position – and how remote our chances of finding anything were: the lantern could illuminate a few yards around us, but the world beyond was all silence and blackness.
‘We should go back,’ I said.
‘Grow a pair, Frey.’
My head turned back and forth, both watching out and trying to keep pace with them. ‘This is reckless! We are not going to –’
‘Och, shush!’
I said no more, not because of McGray’s grunt but because the snow was falling into my mouth; it was becoming a downright blizzard.
Nine-Nails quickened his pace, trying desperately to follow the tracks. I heard him and Millar panting, and saw my own breath as bursts of steam. I could see the footprints becoming ever smoother, and within minutes I hardly recognized any trail other than ours. A gust of wind swept past us, as if the very elements were determined to erase any trace of the killer.
McGray went on nevertheless, until the snow on the ground was totally even, and then quite a few more yards. He finally spat out every imaginable curse – and a few I had never heard – and kicked the snow in frustration.
‘There is more we can achieve in the asylum,’ I said, but Nine-Nails did not reply; he simply turned and started to make his way back, his chest heaving.
I understood his anger all too well. If a man is not caught quickly, it is most likely he will never be found. We might have just lost our best chance.
6
Almost as if to compensate for our defeat, McGray went straight to see his sister. It was nearly six o’clock and he persuaded Miss Smith to wake Pansy an hour earlier than usual.
‘Dr Clouston doesn’t like to disrupt the patients’ routine,’ she was saying as she led the way, a breakfast tray in her hands. I was glad she did not call them inmates. ‘A predictable timetable seems to help soothe the mind.’
‘This has hardly been an ordinary morning,’ I said, looking at McGray out the corner of my eye.
‘And that is the only reason I’m agreeing to this,’ Miss Smith replied. ‘The poor girl must have heard everything …’
We reached Amy’s room, where Clouston was waiting for us.
A Fever of the Blood Page 4