Fourth Attempt

by Claire Rayner

  She thought for a while and then said uneasily, ‘Well, I suppose I could pump him. Ask a lot of innocent questions and see what comes out of it.’

  He frowned, clearly not liking the idea one bit. And then, suddenly, he laughed. ‘Dolly,’ he said suddenly. ‘You’re looking peaky.’

  ‘Eh?’ She was amazed. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘You look tired,’ he translated. ‘Off your peak. Short of a vitamin or two. I think you need a nice night out, just as a pick-me-up. No, not alone with the Dishy One, but with a few buddies, people you can enjoy being with.’

  ‘Try being a little denser,’ she said acidly. ‘I want to go over to see how Jerry is and I really haven’t time for all this silliness.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said and beamed. ‘I’ll come over with you, A & E, is it? I’ll be glad to hear how the poor fella’s coping. And of course, good old Hattie’ll be there, won’t she? It’ll be nice to see Hatt. Haven’t seen her for an age. It’d be really good to have a chance to get my knees under her table again and my belly wrapped round one of her chicken pies. Best chicken pies in the world, hers.’

  ‘Gus,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t!’

  ‘Oh, wouldn’t I?’ He laughed and got to his feet, holding out his hands to pull her up too. ‘Just you watch me. By the time I’ve finished with our Hatt, she’ll be convinced she had the idea of giving a party for a few mates all on her own. And what’s more she’ll include your pal with the buzzy name as though it was the most natural thing in the world!’

  19

  Quite how he would do it, she didn’t know, and she didn’t want to. Hattie was one of her best friends, and they were on very comfortable terms, but she would never have had the gall to ask her to give a dinner party in her own home in order to help with an investigation. Apart from anything else, Hattie would insist, and justifiably so, on George telling her all the whys and wherefores, who were the suspects and what the investigation was all about, and George knew perfectly well that she would find it very difficult to avoid doing so. Gus, on the other hand, would manage it easily because, as George knew all too well, he could be the most persuasive of people. And it was important that Hattie wasn’t told why, because, bless her, George thought, she had the most open and confiding of natures and would never be able to hide from anyone how she thought about them. The thought of Hattie watching Zack over her own dinner table for signs of wrongdoing was more than George could contemplate.

  So, when they reached A & E she deliberately detached herself from Gus and went in search of Jerry. He was, she was told, in the A & E recovery room; he might need to be admitted to the ward later, Adam Parotsky told her, but it was by no means certain.

  ‘He’s recovering fast,’ he said when George put her head between the curtains of the cubicle where he was busily sewing up a lacerated hand on a nervous Turkish woman in late middle age who had brought most of her relations with her to supervise her care. No wonder Adam looked flustered, George thought, glad it wasn’t her task. ‘Go and have a look at him yourself. I’ll see him as soon as I’ve finished here — Yes, I won’t be long.’ This was directed at a flood of angry complaint from a man who seemed to feel he was in charge of the proceedings. ‘Then I’ll talk to you about what we do for him next. Now, Mrs Othman, let me just turn your hand this way. That’s it…’

  George escaped to the recovery room, grimly amused to see Gus disappear into Hattie’s office as she did so. Would he get away with it? Probably.

  Jerry was the only patient in Recovery, which was a relief. It could have been tricky talking comfortably to him while others were listening. He was dozing and she stood beside his bed for a moment, feeling a wash of affection for the man. He had been one of the staff of the lab when she had arrived at Old East coming up for four years ago, and though he could be maddening, with a chirpy manner and a vein of bawdy in his speech that drove some of his colleagues to despair and often irritated George herself, he was hard working and deeply loyal to her. She knew that and she was appreciative of it. Looking at him now, she felt a little sad. He was still fairly young — well on the right side of forty — yet he had a tired, slightly hunted look that showed more clearly now he was off his guard. She suspected he was a lonely man, lacking any important people in his life, which was why he worked as hard as she did, starting early and finishing late. He had told her a little of himself once, shortly after she had arrived at Old East, but that had been as far as it had gone. He had never spoken truthfully of private matters again, only ever making jokes, and wouldn’t have done so that one time if he hadn’t inadvertently become involved in one of her cases. I should encourage him to open out more, she thought now with compunction. Maybe he needs a friend. And she touched his hand gently.

  He woke at once, turning his head on the pillow to stare at her with very wide startled eyes that had fear in their depths, and then, as he saw who it was, relaxed.

  ‘Hi there, Chief,’ he said, his voice husky. ‘Gee, the things some guys’ll do to get ’emselves noticed, huh?’

  ‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘How are you? At least you’re rid of that laryngeal tube.’

  He grimaced. ‘I have to tell you that that is the nastiest thing you can have shoved into any of your orifices. And I’m an expert on the subject.’ He coughed, a thick bubbling sound, and she held out a tissue from the box on the bedside locker. He took it and turned his head aside so that he could spit into it.

  ‘Is it very uncomfortable?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, a bit sore is all.’ He managed a grin. ‘Like smoothish barbed wire.’

  ‘It should ease fairly quickly,’ she said. ‘I don’t think you got too heavy a dose.’

  ‘No, I didn’t. As soon as I smelled it I sort of knew. I pushed the stuff away and turned my head in the other direction but after that I couldn’t do a thing. I just stood there and held on, trying to breathe.’ He looked bleak for a moment. ‘I’ll tell you this much. It must be a hell of a way to go. It’s not much fun when you don’t go, if you see what I mean.’

  ‘I see,’ she said. ‘D’you feel up to telling me what happened?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said and coughed again but this time less painfully. ‘There was bleach in the Goddamn hydrochloric acid Winchester from the Beetle cupboard. There just wasn’t quite enough at the bottom of the bench bottle to work with and I stood there, cursing Louise and putting it in and —’ He stopped. ‘It was Sheila’s bottle I was filling.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I should have used my own, but to tell the truth, I couldn’t find it. I’d spread my slides so much that it was easier to use Sheila’s. Only like I say…’

  ‘It was a perfectly natural thing to do,’ she said. ‘Don’t feel bad about it.’

  There was a little silence and then he said, ‘Don’t tell Sheila. Poor cow’s scared enough.’

  ‘You’re a nice fella, Jerry,’ George said and touched his hand again.

  He managed a wobbly grin. ‘I’ll bet you say that to all the nice fellas,’ he murmured.

  She looked around for a chair, found a stool and pulled it over to the bedside. ‘Listen, Jerry, could you bear to have a bit of discussion of all this?’

  ‘As long as I don’t have to talk too much.’ He made a face. ‘My throat really is disgusting.’

  ‘I’ll try to keep it to yesses and noes,’ she said, reaching for the glass of water on his bedside locker. He took a sip, gratefully. ‘I was just wondering: has there been anything else that’s happened that I ought to know about? Have you noticed anything that worried you? Just say yes or no.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And I’ll have to talk. I want to. The break-in, remember?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘After that, the Beetle cupboard looked sort of … I couldn’t be sure. It seemed to me that maybe it had been meddled with.’

  She frowned sharply. ‘Why didn’t you tell me at the time?’

  ‘I tried to, but there was no
t enough to show. It was only a feeling. I thought maybe I was imagining things.’ He coughed, bubbly again, and once more she did the necessary with a tissue. ‘I thought I was being neurotic. Thought I’d just keep my eyes open. And then forgot, would you believe.’

  ‘You say you tried to tell me?’ She bit her lip. ‘How come you didn’t?’

  ‘You had other things on your mind at the time I tried. Your files.’

  ‘Oh, shit,’ she muttered. ‘I’m sorry, Jerry. P’raps I don’t always listen to you as much as I should, but you do rabbit on, sometimes.’

  ‘My fault.’ He managed another of his grins. ‘Boy who cried wolf, eh? Next time I’ll just come out with it. Hope there isn’t a next time.’

  ‘There better hadn’t be,’ she said grimly. She got to her feet to go and then stopped. ‘Has there been anything else you haven’t told me?’

  ‘Not a thing.’

  ‘You will, though, if anything else bothers you? Even if you think it’s your imagination?’

  ‘Yessir, Mum.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll try to be good.’

  ‘Make sure you are,’ she said with mock severity. ‘OK. I’ll go and talk with Adam now. He still hasn’t decided whether to admit you or not.’

  ‘I’m OK,’ Jerry said. ‘Nothing a day in bed won’t cure.’ He swivelled his eyes and peered at her. ‘Feel like volunteering to help with that? I can’t think of a faster cure than having you there with me …’

  ‘Don’t think you can hide behind disability, my friend,’ she said with even more mock severity. ‘I’ll beat you up, you go on sexually harassing me that way. Get better soon, klutz.’ And after a brief moment of hesitation she bent and kissed his cheek, then went back to the cubicle to see if Adam had finished his repair job.

  He had, and she found him at the main desk filling in some notes. He looked up and said, ‘I’ll be right with you,’ and she nodded and waited, looking about her.

  The place wasn’t unduly busy, and several of the staff seemed to be standing about talking to each other. She recognized the senior A & E staff nurse she knew best — though she had to admit she didn’t know the girl’s name, which was horribly typical of the relations between nurses and doctors. She thought, I really ought to try to get to know the nursing staff better. They know more about what goes on in this place than anyone else. Except for Sheila, of course.

  She smiled a little crookedly at that thought. No one was like Sheila when it came to gossip; her appetite for it was insatiable. She’d do anything to find out what was going on just for the sheer pleasure of knowing…

  It was a sort of epiphany. Standing there in the middle of A & E, hearing the commonplace sounds of voices, the distant clatter of bowls and instruments, the clacking of computer terminals and the buzzing of the lift door at the far side, smelling the familiar mix of spirit and disinfectant and anxious people, she saw quite clearly what lay at the core of the situation they were in.

  Sheila, she thought. Sheila was undoubtedly the source of it all. Sheila who let people think she knew so much about what was happening here, that she had the ear of everyone, who was indefatigable in her search for titbits of news; not for any wicked reason, not because she had any intention of using her garnerings in a malicious way, but for the sheer delight of knowing. It gave her status in her own eyes, made her feel in control of everything about her in a way that she clearly found comforting. It was a harmless foible, George knew, and there was no need for anyone to get upset over it.

  But not everyone realized that. The hospital must, George thought, be full of people who were convinced that Sheila really did see all, hear all, know all. And because someone somewhere had a secret they didn’t want uncovered, Sheila became a threat. That was why she had been attacked — and why those other three had died.

  Whoever it was who had the secret, George told herself, staring sightlessly across the A & E department, was one very frightened person. Frightened enough actually to kill. But why kill those other people? Why make ineffective attacks on Sheila? Surely the simplest way for the frightened person to soothe his — or her — fears was to get rid of Sheila. The rest — Tony Mendez, Lally Lamark, Pam Frean — they couldn’t hurt him or her as much as Sheila could. Or so the criminal must surely think.

  Or — and now her mind went into overdrive — or maybe he knew that the three had real knowledge of him and his activities (remember to think her and she as well, she scolded herself). If he did know for sure that was the case, then he’d have to kill them. It was the only way to ensure their silence. But if he didn’t know what Sheila might possibly know, he was in trouble. That she might have damning evidence was clear, but what was it? It would not be safe to get rid of Sheila completely until he knew just what it was she knew that was a danger to him. Then he would be able to cover it up and go on to killing Sheila. But if he killed Sheila without knowing what it was, there was always the risk it would emerge later in some way. Meanwhile, trying to frighten Sheila so much she’d run away — or be off duty sick — could give him space. Space and time in which to look further (where? George didn’t know; think about that later) and see just where his danger lay.

  Absurdly convoluted, she told herself. Ridiculous. Wasn’t it? But it was the nearest she had come to finding a solid reason for the two situations: three deaths and three clumsy attempts at causing a death, but very efficiently causing fear and incapacity. She and Gus had talked about Sheila’s role before, but hadn’t reached any satisfactory conclusion. Now, she was sure she had, and she focused her eyes again to look eagerly about the place and see if there was any sign of Gus. This had to be talked about.

  ‘Right, I’m all yours.’ Adam came out from behind the desk to stand beside her. ‘How does he seem to you?’

  ‘Hmm?’ She blinked at him, puzzled for a moment.

  ‘Jerry.’ He frowned. ‘Didn’t you go to see him?’

  Her face cleared. ‘Oh, yes, of course I did! Poor old Jerry. He seems in a pretty good state, overall. Bit bubbly but no real harm done.’

  ‘I think you’re probably right,’ he said. ‘I think I’ll try to get him a bed in Day Care, just till this evening, and all being well, send him home after that’

  ‘Will he be fit to come back to work tomorrow, then?’

  He lifted his brows at her. ‘Wow! I didn’t have you down as a whip-cracking type of boss at all!’

  She shook her head, embarrassed. ‘Hell no. It’s not that. It’s just that he lives alone and I think he’d be better off here with us than left alone at home all day. Too much time to fret, you know’

  ‘Ah! I see.’ Adam looked happier. ‘Fine. I’ll tell him to get back to work as soon as possible. There’s no reason why he shouldn’t. The worst he’ll be left with is a slightly productive cough for a few days. We’ve had cases like this before: usually it’s over-houseproud women cleaning their loos with everything they can think of, all at the same time. And they do fine. I can’t remember the last time we had one that didn’t.’

  ‘Good,’ she said fervently. ‘So you think I’ll see him tomorrow in the lab?’

  ‘All being well,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and see him now,’ and then switched his gaze from her face to over her shoulder. ‘Ah, Sister, about Jerry Swann in the recovery room …’

  George whirled. ‘Good morning, Hattie! How’s this for another drama then?’

  ‘I know’ Hattie was bright-eyed with interest. ‘I’ve been hearing all about it. OK, Adam. What do you want to do about Jerry?’

  ‘I’ll check him over, but it’s my guess that after a day in a Day Care Unit bed sleeping it off, he’ll be able to go home this evening. George wants him back at work tomorrow —’

  ‘Slave-driver,’ Hattie said equably.

  ‘So that she can keep an eye on him,’ Adam finished. ‘All of which makes sense to me. So, I’ll fix that up — unless you wouldn’t mind doing the necessary phoning and arranging for me?’ His voice took on a wheedling note. ‘I’m up to my hocks in pape
rwork.’

  ‘Oh, all right,’ Hattie said good-naturedly. ‘Leave him to me.’ And Adam linked his hands together in a boxer’s salute of victory as he went away.

  ‘Um, has Gus gone?’ George said. ‘I wanted another word with him.’

  ‘He’s in my office still. I came out to find you and bring you in for coffee. Listen, I’ve had a thought. It’s been an age since we got a chance to be matey, you and Gus and Sam and me. I’ve been lazy, I suppose, what with the kids and school exams and so forth, but I was just thinking: what about dinner this weekend? The girls’ll both be away on school trips — how’s that for glory? — so I’ll have a chance to do some cooking.’

  George blinked. ‘Oh? Whose idea was that?’

  Hattie looked startled. ‘Eh?’

  ‘I mean, what made you think of that?’

  ‘I told you! The girls are away, and talking to Gus was fun and I thought — Well, anyway, he says it’s OK with him for this Saturday if it is for you. Are you on? And are you fed up to the back teeth with salmon? Because I’ve got a new recipe I’d love to try.’

  ‘Not at all,’ she said, a touch abstractedly, trying to imagine how Gus had worked the oracle so completely. It was obvious that Hattie was convinced this was all her own idea. ‘Whatever you make’ll be great, I’m sure. I’ll look forward to it. Just us, will it be?’

  ‘Oh, maybe a few more,’ Hattie said airily. ‘If I’m going to do it, I might as well make a job of it. Cooking for four is no different from cooking for eight. Anyone you fancy?’

  ‘Oh, it’s up to you,’ George said hastily. ‘I mean —’

  ‘Would it embarrass you if I asked Dr Zacharius?’ Hattie looked at her a shade wickedly. ‘I mean, he was being flirty with you.’

  ‘Of course not!’ George said and flushed slightly. ‘There’s absolutely no reason why you shouldn’t ask anyone you like.’

  ‘OK,’ Hattie said happily, turning to lead the way back towards her office. ‘Let me see now. I’ll need another female to balance Zack … I think perhaps Kate Sayers. Her Oliver’s off on some assignment or other and she’s fretting over him. He’s not precisely in the front line or anything, but it’s in the former Yugoslavia, so she’s a bit twitchy. She’s the last woman who ought to be shacked up with a journalist. And then there’s that rather nice shy young chap, who comes and confides his worries in me and makes me feel like a Jewish mother: I might as well feed him like one. What’s his name?’