Sorry for the long delay to this up-date. I do hope it proves worth it, my dear readers! :)
Chapter Forty Nine
Lestrade took advantage of the tea break to remove, with Donovan, to a nearby examination room to review Nurse McCarthy's statement so far, and confer over whether there were more questions to ask in respect of the nurse's disclosures. In their absence, the WPC took a seat inside Christine's hospital room and a member of the medical staff did a routine check on the nurse's vital signs. It was noted that the patient's blood pressure was slightly elevated. But the cup of tea, sourced from the Pathology Department by Molly, worked its magic and Nurse McCarthy began to feel much more calm and collected.
As she sipped her tea, she watched Molly fingering the pendent at her throat and rubbing the moonstone with her thumb.
'That's lovely, your pendant,' the nurse said. 'Is it new?'
'Yes,' Molly smiled, dipping her head, self-consciously. She didn't usually wear jewellery to work – it tended to get in the way and it was a haven for bacteria – but she just couldn't take the pendent off, that morning.
'I thought so. You weren't wearing it on Friday,' Christine murmured.
'No. it was a gift…' Molly felt awkward talking about herself in this situation.
'Ah, that's nice,' said the nurse. 'Someone must love you very much.'
Molly blushed, wishing this conversation was not taking place. It was just too personal. She wouldn't wear the necklace for work again.
'Yes, I think so,' she replied and tucked the pendant inside her blouse, giving Nurse McCarthy an apologetic smile.
Thankfully, Lestrade and Donovan returned and the interview resumed.
'What happened next, Christine?' asked Lestrade, gently but firmly. 'What did Jarred Shaw say when you asked him where Nurse Mullein had been at that time?'
Nurse McCarthy lowered her hands to the bed covers, twisting the bed sheet between her fingers and, after a few moments of reflection and a sip of water, she continued with her story.
'It was when he told me Nurse Mullein had been on his break – that's when I knew for sure. While I had been ringing the Women's ward and the Porters' station, trying to get help, desperate for someone to come and take Iris Bowles back to her bed, and Mrs Bowles was wandering around the Men's ward, helping herself to everyone's medication, Jarred and Jane had been…up to no good, in the supply cupboard.'
There was a long pause, during which the nurse twisted the sheet tighter and tighter.
'And he seemed so pleased with himself, you know. He was actually boasting about it, as if it was something to be proud of.'
Her voice was flat, expressionless and unemotional.
She released the sheet and took another sip of water, and her expression softened a little.
'He didn't mean to boast. He was a young man, full of life, full of fun. He wasn't to know what would happen to poor Iris.'
Molly couldn't quite concur with that statement. The nurse and the porter were both at work, on duty, responsible for patient care, when they gave in to their baser instincts and indulged in a romp in the supply cupboard. Nurse Crosby and Jarred Shaw had been derelict in their duty of care to all the patients, not just Iris, so not entirely innocent of blame…not by a long chalk.
But Christine was speaking again.
'We came into Whitechapel and Jarred said I could drop him on the main road and he would walk from there. I stopped the car and he went to get out. When he opened the car door, the inside light came on and he turned to say goodbye. That's when I saw his face. He was grinning. Grinning…'
Another sip of water, then she said – so quietly, it was barely audible - ,
'And he said, 'Cheer up, love, it might never happen!' and jumped out of the car.'
The nurse grasped Molly's hand and held it tight as she continued her tale, in a harsh whisper.
'He put on his headphones, shut the door and walked away along the pavement. I just sat there…I don't know how long. I was shocked…and angry. 'It might never happen,' he said! 'It might never happen!' But it had happened! Mrs Bowles was dead and I had said nothing about the pill pots!'
Christine stared wildly around the room, as though looking for a means of escape from her predicament, but there was no way out. She was trapped in her own living nightmare. She continued, her voice rising steadily in pitch and volume.
'I'm not sure what happened, after that. Something in my head just…clicked, like a switch - click. I put the car in gear and drove. I think I was crying…I don't remember. I came to the corner…saw him crossing the road further down. I knew I should drive on…but I didn't. I turned the corner and put my foot down…hard…and drove straight at him. He didn't even look around 'til it was too late and when he did, oh, his face…he was so…surprised! I think he knew it was me…I'm sure he did.'
Then her voice dropped again and she said,
'When the car hit him, he just…disappeared. And then I saw something flash by, in the rear view mirror, falling to the ground behind me. He'd gone right over the roof. Right over...'
As she retold the events of that fateful night, she stared straight ahead, watching the action in her head.
'I stopped the car and ran back. I tried to find a pulse…but I knew he was dead. His head…it was cracked open…just like a broken egg.
I didn't know what to do. It was like being in a dream. It wasn't real…it couldn't be real...but it was…'
Her expression hardened, and her voice along with it.
'I had to get rid of the car.
I drove it to a place I know, in Limehouse, down by the canal. It's quiet there. Nobody around. I had a cloth in the glove compartment that I used for wiping the windscreen. I stuck it in the petrol tank – like a wick, you know?'
Her voice took on a whimsical tone, and her eyes a faraway expression, as she reminisced,
'They used to do that a lot, in Derry, during The Troubles, when I was growing up. We young ones used to watch them from our bedroom window.'
Then she was on a roll, the words coming thick and fast,
'I lit the cloth and walked away. I didn't know if it would work. I didn't know how much petrol was in the tank or how much petrol it took to make a car burn. If it didn't work, I didn't know what I would do next.'
Her speech slowed, like a clockwork automaton, winding down,
'But it worked. The petrol tank…blew up…the car set on fire…and…the tyres exploded…one by one, and I just…walked…away.'
Nurse McCarthy cupped her hands over her face, taking shallow, rapid breaths. She seemed to curl in on herself and began to rock, backwards and forwards, making a strange, keening sound.
Molly and Lestrade exchanged looks then Molly put a hand on Christine's arm, to comfort her but the nurse was beyond comfort. She began to shake with wracking sobs that rattled the whole bed and the keening noise rose in volume. And then she was screaming, wailing, howling and two nurses rushed into the room.
ooOoo
Molly walked into the Path Lab and past her colleagues – lab assistants and other pathologists - straight into her office, closing the door behind her. She needed to be alone, just for a while. The interview with Christine McCarthy had been harrowing. The way in which one incident had led to another and another and another – the proverbial Domino Effect – made the whole affair seem so much more desperate, showing so clearly how one moment, one thought, one action could ultimately destroy so many lives. If only! Molly thought. They must surely be the saddest words in the English language.
A tap on the door caused Molly to snatch up a tissue from the box on her desk and dab at her cheeks, whilst turning away from the door and calling,
'Just a minute!' in a falsely bright tone.
However, the door opened, a hand came in and deposited a mug of tea on the countertop before retreating and reclosing the door, leaving her safe in her sanctuary.
ooOoo
'What are you thinking, sir?' DS Donovan asked, as she and DI Lestrade drove back towards New Scotland Yard.
Lestrade pursed his lips and hummed, thoughtfully, before replying,
'I think if she ever makes it to court it will be a miracle.'
'Well, by her own admission, she went out of her way to run him over. I mean, she actually turned the corner and drove at him,' Donovan pointed out.
'Yes, but even if she ever faced a judge and jury, the Defence would claim she committed the act whilst the balance of her mind was disturbed. And I suspect the Psych Report will find her unfit to plead.'
'But if that's the case, presumably, she'll be sent to a secure psychiatric unit, won't she? Possibly for the rest of her days?'
'Who knows? Anyway, it's not our call. We'll just prepare our case and submit it to the Crown Prosecution Service. After that, it's up to them.'
The DI pulled into the underground car park at New Scotland Yard and into his reserved parking space.
'Right,' he said, giving himself a mental shake, 'let's see what's been going on back at the ranch, while we've off on our jolly.'
As the DI walked into his department, one of the uniformed constables approached him.
'Er, sir, you have a visitor,' he said.
'Oh, really?' exclaimed Lestrade. 'Anyone I know?'
'Unfortunately, yes,' the PC replied and nodded his head, regretfully, in the direction of the whiteboard used to list the occupants of the department's three interview rooms.
Lestrade recognised one name - Margaret Edwards - the Senior Administrator of St Bart's Hospital.
'We told her you were out of the office but she insisted on waiting to speak with you,' the PC added.
'That's OK, Price,' the DI reassured his junior officer. 'The mood I'm in right now, I can't think of another person I'd rather speak to.'
He crossed the floor to his office, to unburden himself of his coat, accepted a mug of coffee from another colleague, who knew his habits well, and walked to Interview Room 3. Mrs Edwards looked up, as he entered, her annoyance at being kept waiting obvious in her facial expression.
'Mrs Edwards,' said Lestrade, by way of a greeting, 'what can I do for you?'
'You can inform the HSE that you have eliminated me from your enquiries, Detective Inspector, if you would be so kind,' Margaret Edwards replied, waspishly.
The DI put his mug of coffee on the table top, pulled out the chair opposite Mrs Edwards and sat down, a thoughtful expression on his face as though he were considering his answer. At last, he asked,
'Why would I do that?'
If the Senior Administrator seemed annoyed before, she looked positively furious, now.
'Because it's the truth!' she exclaimed. 'And because, until you do, I am under investigation and have been suspended from duty!'
'Madam, although I do entirely approve of the decision, I have to say I had absolutely no influence upon it being taken,' the DI replied.
'Of course you did! You must have!' she retorted.
'Whatever gives you that idea?' he enquired.
'Why else would the HSE imagine I had anything to do with these deaths?' Mrs Edwards declared. 'I have no contact with the patients. Our paths never cross. They are just numbers to me – they come in, they are processed, they leave. Goods in, goods out. How could I possibly be implicated in their deaths?'
Lestrade stared at the Senior Hospital Administrator, with a half-smile of incredulity playing upon his lips, and said,
'Madam, if it were not for the fact that I actually think you believe what you just said to be true, I might find your statement amusing.'
'Of course I believe it's true!' she squawked. 'It is true! And, anyway, you already have the guilty parties, do you not?'
'Do I?' he asked.
'Inspector, I think you are being deliberately evasive – and rather annoyingly so, if I may say so,' the woman snapped. 'I happen to know you have arrested a nurse for fraud, since she wasn't a nurse at all, and a second nurse tried to kill herself. That's as good as an admission of guilt, if you ask me!'
'Fortunately, madam, no one is asking you and I can neither confirm nor deny the number of arrests made so far, in this case, but I can assure you that no arrests have been made with regard to the deaths of any patients at the hospital,' Lestrade stated.
'But it's obvious, isn't it? Why else would the woman try to kill herself? She's clearly wracked with remorse for the terrible crimes she has committed,' Mrs Edwards replied, with a self-satisfied smirk.
'Not a sentiment that you are too familiar with, Mrs Edwards,' replied the DI.
'Indeed not, sir! And why should I be? I have done nothing wrong,' she retorted, archly.
Lestrade was fast approaching the limits of his patience. The woman's unquestioning self-belief - or self-delusion - was a wonder to behold.
'Madam,' he snorted, 'does it not occur to you that the toxic work environment that you created in this formerly world renowned hospital could have, in any way, contributed to the sad demise of these elderly patients? With such an attitude toward older people and ignorance of the vital importance of end of life care, you seem singularly unsuited to the job of Senior Administrator in a medical facility of any kind. And I can only hope that, when your time comes, you end up in an institution run according to your own philosophy '
'How dare you!' Mrs Edwards squeaked, indignantly. 'I will have you know that I was head hunted for my post by the Senior Executive of the Trust, himself, and that all my reforms have received his full approval! He was most complimentary, in fact. He said I was like a breath of fresh air!'
'A fatal breath, more like,' Lestrade growled and rose from his seat. 'I am no longer involved with the investigation into the recent suspicious deaths of patients at St Bart's and have no say in any of the decisions made by the Health and Safety Executive. However, when their enquiries are completed, if they should conclude that any criminal charges be made against you or anyone else – such as Corporate Manslaughter, for example – I will be more than happy to make the necessary arrests. Good day, madam. Please see yourself out.'
Lestrade strode from the room, leaving Margaret Edwards spluttering like an apoplectic hen, and took himself downstairs to the underground car park, where he paced up and down, puffing angrily on a cigarette, whilst giving voice to an impressive repertoire of colourful expletives. The other police officers, wisely, gave him a very wide berth.
ooOoo
So sorry that chapter took so long. The conversation between Lestrade and Mrs Edwards was a beast to write. I only hope I got it right, in the end!
Just the Epilogue to go, now. Thank you, my faithful readers for your patience and tolerance. Much appreciated. :)
