Shadows Behind A Screen by Andrew Puckett

Author:Andrew Puckett [Puckett, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sharpe Books
Published: 2020-05-04T22:00:00+00:00

14

Back at the hotel, Tom rang Chris Parker and arranged to see him first thing in the morning, then phoned Marcus.

‘Tom - how’s it going?’

‘All right.’

‘It doesn’t sound like it.’

‘I’ve got a filthy headache I can’t shift.’

‘Self-inflicted?’

‘No, overwork.’ He told him how he’d met Liz the previous evening and what they’d worked out between them.

‘But there still wouldn’t have been enough time for anyone to alter the result, surely?’ Marcus said.

‘There might. I’ve had an idea and I’m seeing the computer chief again tomorrow about it. And two of the lab staff do have pretty strong motives, as well as opportunity.’ He gave him a run-down of the day’s interviews.

‘Well, they’re certainly worth following up,’ Marcus said. ‘What did you make of Benedict?’

‘Just about the most selfish and graceless individual I’ve ever met.’ He described Harry and some of his peccadilloes. ‘I can’t for the life of me understand what all these women see in him,’ he grumbled.

‘Ah, Tom - If women like them like men like those...’

‘Yeah, yeah - Why don’t women like me?’ Tom finished. ‘That’s not what I - ‘

‘And he has suffered a shattering double bereavement,’ Marcus continued quietly. ‘Grief can bring out the worst in people. You ought to know that.’

‘Yeah, all right.’ Tom knew that his own behaviour hadn’t been particularly gracious when Frank had died.

‘So what’s your next step?’

‘I’m just off to talk to the sister in the Children’s Ward - the one who also happens to be Benedict’s latest girlfriend.’

‘That is a rather bizarre coincidence, isn’t it?’

‘I suppose so, although not so much when you consider the way Benedict puts it about.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Anyway, Marcus, I’d better go, if I’m not to be late for her.’

He swallowed some more paracetamol and went down to his car. The traffic was still heavy and it was six by the time he’d parked and threaded his way through the flowered courtyards of the New Hospital to the modest, unassuming entrance of the Old. Inside, his eye was caught by a much polished brass plaque attached to the wall and something made him stop for a moment and look at it.

This hospital is respectfully dedicated to the American Doctors,

Nurses, Administrators and Technicians who came here in time

of war to serve their fellow citizens.

He followed the signs up the wide, old corridors, thinking: It’s a part of our history, this place - maybe it is worth preserving ... A door opened and a porter emerged, pushing an old lady in a wheelchair. Her body was wasted and her face a mosaic, but her eyes missed nothing and she grinned conspiratorially at him.

He found Ward A and pressed the intercom button. A tinny, and somehow irritating, voice answered almost immediately.

‘Children’s Ward A, Student Nurse Ashfield speaking.’

He told her who he was, and about half a minute later the door was opened by Sally herself.

‘Come in, Mr Jones. We’ll go to my office.’ As she shut the door, he became aware of the indefinable odours of the infirm.

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