The bookcase on the wall was locked and glancing at the titles, he thought he could understand why: there was the first edition of an old friend, Dacie and Lewis, an ancient Topley and Wilson and an equally venerable David. He would have loved to look through them, but didn’t dare.
The desk drawers were locked as well and he was sorting out which key to use when there was a knock on the door –
“Philip? Philip, are you there?”
Several things happened at once: he jumped as he recognised the voice - Ranjid’s - and dropped the keys, which made a loud rattle on the desk …
“Philip?” The door handle rattled – “Who is in there?”
Fraser had grabbed the keys and was halfway to the window when he heard another kind of rattle, the one of a key going into a lock … Christ! Did he have one to Philip’s room as well?
The blind made screeching noises as he fought his way underneath and scrabbled at the handle of the window … it squeaked open and he tumbled through and onto a rose bed … picked himself up and ran -
Into the darkness between the unit and the next building … he heard a shout from the window but kept running -
Frasier stopped … he hadn’t been seen by anyone yet, but if he was seen running, they’d remember …
He walked – fast, but not too fast – back toward the flats, his heart beating sickeningly … he felt dizzy and drew deep breaths. He suddenly remembered the gloves and pulled them off –
They’d been shredded by the rose bushes and he hadn’t even noticed … he stuffed them into a pocket.
He looked at his watch, half nine, and his hands were bleeding …
Ranjid was probably already calling the police – would he be suspected? Possibly, by Ranjid – but what the hell was he doing there?
Never mind that now, think … he’d been seen at just after eight by Terri – but not since …
If he get to Bristol, he could establish an alibi …
Yeah - drive there now, straight to Mary’s.
Pick up a few things, wash his hands? No, go straight there.
He found the car, unzipped the tonneau and drove off - fortunately, there was a back way out, so he didn’t have to drive past the unit. He drove gently, not making too much noise.
He’d been sweating earlier, but was shivering after a mile. He stopped and put up the hood.
On the motorway, he kept under 80 – wouldn’t do his alibi a lot of good to be caught speeding – and reached Mary’s at a quarter past ten.
“Fraser! Is something the matter … what have you done to your hands?”
*
Once inside, the more he tried to explain, the more bemused she looked. At last she said tiredly:
“All right Fraser, I don’t know what you’ve got yourself into this time, but I’ll say you were here at nine.”
He cleaned up his hand, then phoned Tom.
The silence at the other end as he told him about it was more eloquent than any amount of swearing could have been. Then Tom said wearily,
“What possessed you, Fraser?”
“It seemed … “ He swallowed.
“Like a good idea at the time?”
“Just too good an opportunity to miss. I thought I might find something useful ... ”
“And did you?”
“No.”
“Two rules, Fraser – no, three. Never search peoples’ offices unless you’ve got a specific object in mind. Never do so unless you’ve got either an escape route or an explanation for being there. And never, never forget that Sod’s law will invariably operate. Got that?”
Fraser nodded miserably. “Aye.” He swallowed again. “Sorry.”
“All right.” A sigh drifted down the line (possibly because Tom could remember doing much the same sort of thing himself when he’d started). “You did right to get back to Bristol. Is your mother in law OK about giving you an alibi?”
“I think so.”
“Better let me speak to her.”
Fraser handed her the receiver. Yes, she did remember Mr Jones, and yes, she thought she realised the importance of what Fraser was doing.
She handed it back.
“Should I still come up tomorrow?” Fraser asked him “I mean, what if the police come looking for me here?”
Tom thought for a moment, then said, “No, stick to what you were going to do – we’ve got a lot of stuff to talk about. See you tomorrow.”
Fraser got his story straight with Mary, then went home.
*
He caught the nine o’clock train in the morning. He was the last to arrive again.
“Ah, Fraser,” Marcus said. “You’d better sit down and tell us about it.”
He spoke, Fraser thought, more in sorrow than in anger - Shakespeare? He put it out of his mind as Marcus poured him some coffee. Neither of the other two said anything.
“Thanks.” He took a gulp of the coffee, burned his mouth, and began telling them, feeling his face burning as well.
When he’d finished, Tom said, “You heard a shout as you ran away – could he have recognised you?”
Fraser shook his head. “Unlikely. I was into the shadows before I heard it.”
“OK. You’re certain no one saw you going into the hospital?”
“Aye. I wouldn’t have gone through with it otherwise.”
“So no one saw you there after eight?”
“No.”
“And you’re sure you didn’t leave any prints?”
“I am.”
Tom let out a breath. “Well, thanks to a mix of luck and serendipity, I think we may have got away with it.”
Jo said, “But whoever’s doing the killing is going hear about this – won’t it put them on their guard?”
Thanks Jo, Fraser thought.
“No, I don’t think so,” said Tom. “That’s what I meant by we. Hospitals get broken into all the time. Since none of the doors they know the intruder got through were locked, there’s no mystery as to how it was done. Fraser had a perfectly good reason for being there at eight, and thanks to his alibi, couldn’t have been there at nine. I think we’re OK.”
“Won’t they wonder why Armitage’s door was locked if he usually leaves it unlocked?” – Jo again.
“I’m not too worried about that either,” Tom said. “The intruder might have locked it with the key inside, or if there wasn’t one, maybe Singh got confused about whether it really was locked or not.”
Marcus asked whether they’d got anything positive out of it? “For instance, those names you took down Fraser … ”
Fraser said he’d look them up when he got back. “I don’t think they’ll tell us anything though, they just didn’t seem right.”
“We’ve learned a bit about their peccadilloes though, haven’t we?” Jo observed. “The bosses, I mean - I wonder what Fraser would’ve found if he’d made it into Armitage’s desk.”
Marcus smiled faintly, then turned back to Fraser. “It wasn’t a bad idea keeping an eye on the patients, although it’ll be a lot easier when you can both do it.” He paused. “I imagine Tom’s already said all that’s needed about the other.”
Fraser nodded. He could feel his cheeks glowing again and hoped that his beard hid it.
“Did you bring the other list? The at risk patients?”
He found it and handed it over. Marcus glanced down it, then handed it on to Tom, who did the same before passing it to Jo.
Tom said, “But they’re all well at the moment?”
“They were at eight last night. There have been two others, though ... “ He told them about the false alarms.
“But these weren’t people you’d thought of as at risk?” Tom said.
Fraser shook his head. “And they got better.” He drew a breath. “After last night,” he said, “I hope to God I’m right about all this … “
“Well, now would certainly be a great time to tell us you’d got doubts,” Jo murmured into the silence.
�
�A week’s nothing,” Tom said after shooting her a look. “Forget it.”
After another short silence, Marcus asked him if he’d been able to look at the drug system and he told him what he’d found out from the two nurses.
“Sounds like standard practice,” said Jo. “I’ll take a closer look at it when I get there.”
“There is another problem,” said Fraser. “I should’ve thought of it before, but it only occurred to me during the false alarms.” He looked round. “What do we do if one of these patients does get resistant pneumonia before we work out how it’s being done?”
“I’d wondered about that,” said Jo.
“How d’you mean?” said Tom.
“Well, I couldn’t just stand by and watch them die, but if we did anything to prevent it, then we risk whoever’s doing it realising we know.”
Marcus said, “Couldn’t you, as a doctor, simply put them on a different antibiotic?”
“I probably could, although I’d likely be asked to explain why later. Jo couldn’t. She’d have to suggest it to a doctor and she’d almost certainly be told to give the ampicillin more time to work.”
“And by the time I did manage to persuade someone,” said Jo, “it’d probably be too late. I don’t like it either.”
“Tom?” said Marcus.
“It’s a problem.” Tom thought for a moment. “If - when - it happens,” he said, “Could you, Jo, give them some antibiotic we knew was OK without anyone knowing?”
“I won’t know that until I’ve seen the set-up. Then, maybe, so long as they were on my patch.”
“And if they weren’t?”
“Then I’d have no business going anywhere near them.” She continued quickly - “But if I was caught giving unauthorised drugs to anyone, I could be struck off. I want a written guarantee that that won’t happen, Marcus.”
“You can both have that,” Marcus said.
“Fraser, could you do it?” Tom said.
“Aye, so long as they were on Edwina’s list. But there’s still the other problem – if they got better, won’t the person responsible wonder why?”
“Couldn’t we use that to our advantage?” - Jo.
“How?” - Marcus.
She leaned forward. “Say we have a patient, Mrs Smith – she gets pneumonia and is put on ampicillin. Either I do the drugs round myself and make sure she gets the real thing, or I give her some on the side later – extra ampicillin won’t hurt her – “
“But how will you know you’re giving her the real thing?”
“I’ll break open a new pack, then keep some back and have it tested. Then, when she doesn’t die, the person who gave them the dummy might give themselves away.”
“It’s worth a try,” said Tom. “What d’you think Fraser?”
He nodded. “It’s probably the best we can do. But if we’re going to do that, Jo and I have got to be able to meet and talk, in my room, if necessary.”
“You can’t afford to be seen together,” said Tom. “You’ll have to use the hotel room.”
“There might not be time for that ... ”
They eventually agreed that if one of them found a case, they would immediately phone the other’s mobile.
“Which means mobiles on at all times,” Marcus said, looking from one to the other.
“What if they’re not allowed?” – Jo.
“Leave it on and say you forgot.” – Tom.
After a pause, Marcus continued, “There’s one more thing before we go to lunch - death certificates. Fraser, what actually goes on the victims’ for cause of death?”
Fraser shrugged. “Pneumonia, I suppose.”
“But you don’t know for a fact?”
He shook his head.
“What I’m getting at is that you could argue that they wouldn’t have got pneumonia if they hadn’t had cancer in the first place. So what’s put on them - pneumonia or cancer? Can you find out? It does strike me there’s scope for hiding dodgy deaths there.”
They went for lunch in the same place. Jo said she had to leave early again and this time, Fraser went with her.
It was a fine day and even the stately Plane trees seemed to be enjoying the sun. The breeze rustled in their leaves and caught Jo’s chestnut hair as she walked. Fraser had a job keeping up with her.
For something to say, he asked her how long it took her to get home.
“An hour and a half,“ she said, “So long as I catch the next train - ” she looked at her watch, “There isn’t another direct one today.”
“When is it?”
“Half an hour.”
“Ach, that’s loads of time.”
She smiled unwillingly. “I have a phobia about missing trains.”
They walked on in silence for a few moments, then he said, “Are you worried about Monday?”
“A bit, although I just want to get on with it now. Don’t you?”
“Yeah. I just hope I’m right about it.”
She looked at him curiously. “Are you really worried about that?”
He gave her a lop sided grin. “I’m worried about what Marcus’d say if I was wrong. Wouldn’t you be? Especially after Friday’s cock up.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that if I were you – I assure you Tom’s done worse things.” She paused. “As for the other, Marcus would never have agreed to set this up if he wasn’t convinced. Here’s the station.”
They bought tickets from the machine. Fraser said, “I’ll see you to your train.”
“We’re on different lines, aren’t we? You want Paddington, that’s Bakerloo.”
They stood awkwardly for a moment, then he thrust out his hand. “I’ll probably see you Monday, then. From afar, that is.”
She grinned at him as she took it, then waved as she vanished down the escalator.
Chapter 14
The police called an hour after he got home.
“Dr Callan?” Two of them, Sergeant Griffiths and Constable Davey of the Wiltshire police. “Can we come in, please sir?”
He took them to the living room. Offer them tea? No, he wouldn’t have done normally, not until he’d known what they wanted. They sat down and Davey pulled a notebook from his pocket.
“I believe you work as a locum staff grade at Wansborough Community Hospital, Dr Callan?”
“Aye, I do. Why?”
“Could you tell us where you were at nine o clock last night please sir?”
“At my mother in law’s at Horfield - why d’you want to know this?”
Davey looked at Griffiths, who nodded.
“An intruder got into the hospital last night, sir. We understand you were there yourself at eight o clock.”
“An intruder?” Don’t overdo it … “When?”
“About nine.”
“What for? Drugs?”
“Not so far as we know, sir. It was the director’s – “ He consulted the notebook again – “Dr Armitage’s office that was broken into.”
“Was anything taken?”
Not so far as they could make out, no … “Sister Stokes says you were there at just after eight – is that so?”
“It is,” he agreed.
Had he noticed anything suspicious, anyone hanging around?
He thought about it, then shook his head. “Sorry, but no, I didn’t.”
“What time did you leave the hospital?”
“Just after Sister Stokes saw me. Say five past or thereabouts.”
“Where did you go then?”
Back to his flat, he told them, where he’d picked up a few things and then driven to his mother in law’s.
What time had he arrived there?
“Oh, a bit before nine …”
“And she’d confirm that, would she, sir?”
“Of course she would – “ he looked from one to the other of them – “Are you trying to suggest I did it?”
“No sir, we’re not,” Griffiths said blandly, “At this stage, we’re just elimina
ting people from our enquiries. Could I have your mother in law’s address, please?”
Davey noted it down. They got to their feet and Griffiths handed him a card. “If you do remember anything else, sir … “
“I’ll tell you straight away.”
As soon as they’d gone, he phoned Tom’s mobile. “Should I warn Mary?”
“Has she got a mobile?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then don’t, not if it means using a land line. I think you should ring Armitage, though ... maybe Helen as well. Let me know what they say.”
He called Philip at home.
“No, nothing was either stolen or broken,” Philip told him. “Look, if you don’t mind Fraser, we’ll talk about it on Monday.”
He rang off. He sensed, although he didn’t know why, that Philip had someone with him.
He called Helen, but there was no answer, so he left a message.
“D’you think she’s with him?” Tom asked when he phoned him back.
“I’ve no idea.”
“What is their relationship? I know you’ve said they’re close, but how close?”
“Close, but platonic,” Fraser said after a pause.
“How d’you know that?” Tom persisted.
“Close because of the way they’re completely at ease with each other. Platonic because if she was two timing me with anyone, it’d be Ranjid.”
“Mm. All right,” Tom said, still dubious.
*
Fraser had intended going to see Philip first thing on Monday, but Philip pre-empted him by calling a meeting of all the medics and heads of departments.
He told them briefly what had happened. “We might never have known about it at all,” he said, “If it wasn’t for the fact that Ranjid had to go in with the on call bleep.”
Ranjid, who’d been staring at Fraser since he’d come in, said,
“What I’d like to know is what Dr Callan was doing here at eight o clock.” He turned back to Fraser. “You weren’t on call, were you?”
“You know perfectly well I wasn’t, Ranjid. As I told the police, I stayed to do some work in the library, then looked in on a patient before going home.”
“What patient?”
Fraser explained about Mrs Perkins and her infection. “I’ve not had much experience with C diff, so I was worried about her.”
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