Both doctors waited for the blow.
“A few days ago, one of your colleagues was found dead in his bed – a Doctor Alan Burgess. He was murdered. Our investigation has brought us to speak to you, Doctor Miller, as it seems you were one of the last people to see him alive.”
Meakin searched Frank’s face as he delivered the news. He always thought this an important part of any investigation – watching people’s reactions. He’d learned however, that though people could hide what they were feeling some of the time, the first impact was always the most difficult to cover. The shock on Miller’s face was genuine. Meakin witnessed the struggle for control.
“How….when…what do you mean that I…?” Frank stammered.
Alan dead – he thought he was away with his wife; a long-awaited holiday. It was always difficult to get away in this job; the patients were so demanding. It was vital that they removed themselves every so often or they’d be patients themselves.
Pulling himself together he added, “I mean, I thought Alan was on holiday. He’d left the fundraiser early to be home with his wife – they were to leave early the next morning; that’s why Mary never came with him. She’d stayed home with their young son, doing last minute packing. They’d been looking forward to it for a long time. Their marriage had been through a rough patch and the holiday was going to hold them together as a family.”
Frank knew he was rambling, it was always more difficult to stay professional when it was someone you knew who was in trouble.
“Witnesses have said they saw you leaving the venue with him,” Meakin said, his voice quiet and calm.
He could see the agitation in the doctor’s face. His hand fiddled with his pen and shook as he lifted his cup – then put it down again without drinking.
Anne looked at them both with horror.
“Yes, I saw him to his car. We talked about the coming sponsorship and how we’d tackle all the research we were going to have to do. I wished him good luck with his holiday – we’d all been friends for a long time, I didn’t want to see his marriage go bust like mine had. I like them both so much. I didn’t kill him, why would I?”
Frank had begun to feel the sorrow of this devastating news. Not only had he lost a friend but a damn good partner in their new venture. He must go to see Mary – she’d be shattered, she’d had such high hopes for their future. She’d confided in him many times. She wanted their marriage to work – especially because of Sean, their son.
“You were quite friendly with his wife, Mary Burgess. You’ve been seen many times in her company.”
Meakin again looked for Frank’s reaction to this statement.
Frank was alarmed at the inference.
“We are just friends. There’s never been anything else between us!”
“You have a reputation as a ladies’ man, Doctor Miller.”
“That may be, but I never….never, Alan was my friend. I like women, yes, but I’ve never….” He broke off, not knowing what to say. It was all such a terrible shock.
Meakin turned to Anne.
“Doctor Blake, do you remember seeing anything suspicious at the fundraiser? Nothing you thought unusual?”
“Nothing at all...it all went very well.”
Her face blanched, and he could barely hear her.
“Very well, I’ll need to speak to both of you again; I’ll need your statements about your movements on the night of the fundraiser.”
He looked at them both, as he rose from his chair.
Putting away his notebook, he smiled grimly at the doctors before saying his goodbyes.
“I must go! I’ll speak to you soon,” whispered Anne and quickly left Frank’s office.
She followed Meakin to the lift and touched his arm saying, “I have to say that Frank would never, ever, break up a marriage.”
“What about murder, Doctor Blake, do you think him capable of that?” Meakin looked at Anne with his usual composure.
Anne stepped back with the shock of his words, stammering, “No, of course not! Frank is a brilliant doctor and a good friend; I would stake my life on his honesty and caring.”
“But that doesn’t stop him from being capable of murder.”
“That’s ridiculous! You’re wrong, Inspector, I know it.”
“Well, we’ll have to see, our investigation isn’t over yet. By the way, I did see your friend, Missus King. On the face of it, it doesn’t seem like her case is connected to the others. However, I have warned her to be vigilant and to keep on with the notebook. If we can establish a pattern, there may be a way of catching this one.
“Though listening to what she’s been through, it seems different, though I can’t quite put my finger on it...just a hunch. It doesn’t fit into the usual mode of obsession – it feels more like a predator.”
Dismayed, Anne realised the importance of these words.
“If that’s the case, then shouldn’t she be warned about the danger? Can you give her some protection? Why would someone do this to her?”
“You are more qualified than I into why it should happen. My experience knows it takes all sorts to make up this world – many of them very sick. Protection isn’t warranted at this stage, there have been no direct threats. I didn’t think it prudent to emphasise the jeopardy of the case. She didn’t seem the type to withstand the pressure. Her husband should be told, however, I have a meeting with him later today.”
“She’s very intelligent and sensible but I think the birth of her twins left her a little nervous. You may be right though, she may not be strong enough to know the truth...if it is indeed the truth. I’d feel happier if she had some proper protection.”
Anne felt sick.
“I’ll talk to David too, between us we can give her enough protection until……you must find who’s doing this, and soon. There’s got to be some clue as to who it could be.”
“I’ve already told you, it is very difficult to identify stalkers, especially if they are determined to stay hidden. They are often a loner, obsessed with their fantasy. They can be very clever. Though, I say again, in Jenny’s case I do feel there is something more to it than the usual stalker.”
Seeing the look on Anne’s face he added, “I will ask a patrol car to unofficially drive past their house. That alone may deter whoever it is from getting closer. They have obviously kept their distance so far.”
“Yes, but for how long?”
Anne was scared.
Meakin didn’t answer as he stepped into the lift.
Anne heard the ping as the doors began to close.
Too much was happening at once. Jenny’s stalker, Mrs Armstrong’s murder and now Alan Burgess was dead.
“You never said how Alan was killed.”
“He was found by his wife when she awoke, lying next to her; he’d been stabbed,” Meakin responded.
Anne took a sharp intake of breath, as she watched him disappear behind the lift doors.
******
Anne went through the rest of the day in a fog.
Thoughts mingled around her head, but nothing concrete or rational was formed. It was all such a shock – and frightening too. She was worried for Jenny and David; for Frank too. She felt sorry for Mary and her young son, and for Peter who too had suffered a tragic event.
What was going on? Everything was so fragmented; didn’t make sense.
Could there be a connection between Mrs Armstrong’s death and Alan’s? There was a link in how they were killed but there was nothing to connect them otherwise. Alan had never met the Armstrongs – in fact nobody at Tadmore knew of them properly – they’d never even got to the hospital. No, it must be a coincidence about the way they had been killed.
She’d gone back to Frank’s office for a little while before her rounds, to see how he was coping with the outrageous news, but had said nothing of her conversation with Meakin.
He’d dealt with the initial shock and they talked about how terrible it must be for Mary. He said he would ‘phone her and see if she wanted to talk.
“You don’t believe anything Meakin said about Mary and me, do you?”
He’d looked so pathetic and worried; his handsome face had aged since he’d heard the news.
“You don’t have to ask, Frank – no. I think Meakin is just putting out feelers, only doing his job. Go and see Mary, she’ll need your help,” she’d advised before leaving his office.
After checking on her patients – two were ready to be released – she completed some paperwork.
Faith Summers had needed help when her baby had died suddenly – a tragic cot death. But she had come to terms with her loss up to a point, and Anne knew she was ready to face the world again. Nothing would take away the pain of what had happened, but now she should be able to cope. Faith and her husband had thanked her and Anne had watched sadly as they’d left the ward.
Phillip Green had been a patient for eight months; his schizophrenia was now under control. His family was now happy to have him home.
“Don’t forget to take your medication, Phillip,” she had said, smiling at this success. He’d been such a mess when he’d arrived. “Your outpatient appointment is on your card – it’s important you attend,” Anne had warned.
“I know, Doctor. I feel so much better - I don’t want to go back to that crushing weight in my head. Thank you so much. Mum and Dad understand too now, thanks to you. They know what this terrible illness is about, and know I can be helped. I’m going back to college next week. I have my life back – thanks again.”
She’d seen his eyes fill with tears and remembered his embarrassment.
She’d smiled and told him, “Phillip, you made the first step, you knew you needed help. Now, with your medication and understanding, your life should be as good as you want it to be. Now, off you go, I’ll see you at your outpatient appointment. I’m not going to say good luck because everything is going to be fine. Goodbye, Phillip.”
She’d watched him walk down the corridor; his parents there to greet him.
She sighed with pleasure – two more fixed – then got to her feet to continue her rounds.
She didn’t see Barbara until she was having a quick break in the cafeteria. She’d just sat down to have her coffee and chocolate bar – she needed it for energy and shock – when Barbara joined her.
“Naughty! You know you shouldn’t eat chocolate. You’ll have to work twice as hard at the gym now,” Barbara joked.
Her tray held black coffee and an apple.
“I know, I know,” Anne laughed. “But it’s been a hard day – I need some pampering.”
“Why, what’s the matter? You work too hard, I’m always telling you.”
Barbara bit into her apple.
“It’s not work. I’ve had some terrible news. Haven’t you heard?” Anne responded.
“Heard what?” Barbara said between bites.
“About Alan Burgess, he’s been killed, murdered!”
Barbara stopped chewing and put down her apple.
“How do you know?”
Anne told her about Meakin’s visit - about how he’d suspected Frank and why. Barbara shook her head, saying, “I don’t believe it!”
“That’s what I told Meakin, Frank wouldn’t go after his friend’s wife, nor is he capable of murder.”
“Well, everyone’s capable of murder, working here should have told you that. Look at the cases that are brought here.”
Barbara drank her coffee but left the apple going brown on the tray.
“Yes, but, they’re ill. They are extreme cases, a lot because of years of abuse. Something snaps and….well, you know. And I know that people can kill in self-defence or when protecting someone. There are also cold-blooded killers, but even in these cases, there are usually reasons behind them – and Frank’s certainly not one of those.”
“I think we are all capable of murder – some can even hide it. Remember the case where that man had been killing for years, yet he was seen as respectable with a family, holding down a good job? It was years before he was caught. Nobody would ever have suspected – it was only that he made a mistake and his wife became suspicious.”
“Psychotic cases are rare, you know that. Do you think that’s how Alan died? One of his patients had somehow found out where he lived?” Anne asked.
She’d never thought of that. It was just like Barbara to sound out something like this. Yes of course it could be – she must talk to Meakin about looking at Alan’s patient list.
“You’ve such an incredible mind, Barbara, I’ve never understood why you didn’t become a doctor instead of a nurse – you could have easily made the grade. I sometimes think you know more about mental illness than all of us put together.”
Barbara answered thoughtfully, “When you become a doctor, you remove yourself from your patients. I feel I can have a more hands-on approach being a nurse. I’m with the patient more and feel I understand them in a way that can elude a doctor.”
“Yes, that makes some sense. But you’d be a great doctor. Didn’t your father have a practice once?”
“Yes, he did. He was always so busy with his patients, but never really seemed to understand them...not as much as the nurses seemed to. He used to take me on his rounds before he died, when I was training to be a doctor, and what I saw made me switch to nursing. He wasn’t very happy about that but accepted my decision. We’d been on our own for so long since my mother died, I hated to disappoint him, but I think he understood.”