Trauma (26 page)

They, whoever they were, must be feeling pretty secure now that everyone in the cemetery that night was dead. Perhaps letting the newspapers know that the four men who died in the car fire were the same four who dug up his son might start some people thinking and asking questions. The police already knew of course, but having the glare of publicity shone on them wouldn't do his case any harm at all. The suggestion of murder might get some decent action out of them.

Main towelled himself down lightly so as not to antagonise the headache. It was only when he bent over to dry his toes that the pain soared again. He steadied himself on the side of the bath for a moment before returning to the bedroom to get dressed.

Lafferty was in the side chapel when he heard the phone ringing. The little chapel was his favourite place at St Xavier's. It wasn't really a chapel at all in the strict sense of the word, in that it wasn't separate from the church, just a small alcove off the left hand aisle, but it was somewhere he felt comfortable. There was a small altar covered with a fading purple cloth edged in gold, six chairs with wooden backs and raffia seating and above them, and a single stained glass window depicting scenes from the Crimea.

The chapel had been added to the church at the behest and expense of a wealthy local family at a time when wealthy families in the community held much more sway in church affairs than they did in current times. The family had all but died out in the area and only one elderly lady in the congregation, Miss Catherine Bell, represented the original benefactors and the reason why it was called the Bell Chapel and not, as was so often supposed that it had something to do with the church bells.

The chapel had never proved popular with the congregation either as a place for silent worship or simply for contemplation but Lafferty used it a lot for both. For some reason he couldn't fathom he felt closer to God here. It afforded him perfect solitude. It wasn't hard to see why the others didn't like it. It faced north so it was cold and dark; sunlight never backlit its window. Even if it had, the Crimean scene on the glass was one of despair rather than hope, depicting wounded soldiers with bandaged heads leaning heavily on crutches fashioned from tree branches as they were led in single file from the battle field by a nurse with a large red cross on her apron.

Lafferty hurried through to answer the phone, suspecting that it would be John Main. It was.

'I'm ringing to apologise,' said Main.

'No need,' said Lafferty.

'I just felt so awful last night, I climbed into the bottle.'

'No explanations are necessary,' said Lafferty.

'Thanks. Something you said last night started me thinking,' said Main.

'What was that?'

'Something about luck or fate having nothing to do with the deaths. What did you mean by that?'

Lafferty paused for a moment, wondering just how far he should go in voicing his suspicions. 'I'm not sure myself,' he said.

Main seemed to understand his difficulty 'I know it's hard to suggest anything without proof,' he said, 'but the coincidence factor in this case is just too high to accept without question.'

'I agree,' said Lafferty, relieved that Main had taken the initiative.

'The question is what do we do about it?'

'Yes.'

'I've decided to give matters a little nudge,' said Main.

'By doing what?'

'By telling the papers about the connection. What do you think?'

'Good idea,' said Lafferty after a moment's thought. 'That should get other people asking questions, not just us.'

'That's the idea,' said Main.

'You'll have to be careful,' said Lafferty, a bit hesitantly.

'What do you mean?'

'Just that . . . if the four deaths weren't accidental we are dealing with some pretty nasty and powerful people. You might be putting yourself in the firing line so to speak.'

'I've thought of that,' agreed Main. 'I'll watch my back.'

'And your front,' added Lafferty.

Lafferty returned to the Bell Chapel and tried to put thoughts of Main out of his mind. He had to think about Mary O'Donnell's funeral, the reason he had gone there in the first place. He desperately wanted to get things right on the day. Unlike so many funerals these days, where he neither knew the deceased or the family and had to improvise on what few sketchy details he could glean in the few days leading up to the funeral, he did know the O'Donnells and knew what they were going through. In particular, Jean was having a crisis in the faith that had meant so much to her over the years and Joe was agonising over the strained relationship he'd had with his daughter before she died. He had a duty to these people. He had to present Mary's death to them in a way that would allow them to recover from it without lasting doubt and bitterness. He had not only to thank the Lord for Mary O'Donnell's life but to explain satisfactorily why she had died. He had to convince the O'Donnells that the Lord had had a purpose in . . . sending Mary over the handlebars to smash her skull on a tree. Lafferty leaned forward in his seat to cradle his head in his hands. Above him, cold light came in from the Crimean window. How could he do that? he asked himself when he couldn't understand it himself.

The moment of crisis passed. It was time to keep busy, he decided. There was lots to do and throwing himself into his work would stop him agonising, albeit temporarily. It was taking the easy way out but why not? What was the point in actively pursuing mental agony when it seemed to find him all too readily as it was?

* * * * *

Sarah smoothed the front of her dress and touched her hair lightly as she examined herself in the mirror. It had been ages since she had dressed up properly to go out and it felt good. The irony was that she wasn't actually going anywhere; she was staying in the hospital but the reception and sherry party for the Tyndall brothers was a good enough excuse. Paddy Duncan was going to escort her and she was looking forward to the occasion. She felt like a human being again instead of what she had been for the past few months, an automaton waiting for the next call out.

Derek Logan had told Tyndall that he would remain on duty in HTU in order to let 'other staff' attend the party. Sarah felt sure that he had only been collecting brownie points with a display of selfless dedication for Tyndall's benefit - she even suspected that he must have weighed up the pros and cons of going or not going to the party and had decided that the opportunities for furthering his career would not outweigh the opportunity of impressing Murdoch Tyndall. But it didn't matter. What mattered was that she was going and she felt like a woman again. She applied a thin film of pale lipstick to her lips and snapped the cap back on before making a final appraisal in the mirror. 'You'll do,' she muttered as a knock came to her door. It was Paddy Duncan.

'Stunning!' exclaimed Paddy.

'Thank you kind sir,' replied Sarah before collecting her bag and opening it to make sure she had her key.

'All ready?' asked Paddy.

'Ready,' smiled Sarah.

'I feel we should be going out to a swish restaurant with you looking like this,' said Paddy. 'Instead it's going to be Bulgarian red and hospital chit chat.'

'I'm looking forward to meeting the great man,' said Sarah. 'It's not often you meet someone who has genuinely made a real advance in medicine, something that's going to effect the lives of everyone in the future.'

'Steady on, advances are being made all the time,' said Paddy.

'But not real advances,' countered Sarah. 'You get the "i" dotters and the "t" crossers who leak their "breakthrough" to the press and then declare coyly that everything's at "a very early stage", once they've got the publicity they set out to achieve. That's usually the last you ever hear of it. But this is different. This is real! '

'I suppose you're right,' agreed Paddy, amused at Sarah's obvious enthusiasm. 'I just hope you're not disappointed.'

Sarah was aware of heads turning when she and Paddy entered the reception room above the hospital's main offices and it pleased her. She did her best to appear nonchalant and responded to Paddy's offer of a drink with, 'I think it's coming to us.'

'How posh,' whispered Paddy as he saw the waitress approach with a silver tray laden with glasses. 'But I bet it's still Bulgarian.'

Sarah took in her surroundings while she sipped her drink and responded at appropriate intervals to Paddy's observations. She couldn't see Tyndall and said so to Paddy.

'Over there in the corner,' said Paddy, 'He's half hidden by Hugh Carfax.'

Sarah found the pathologist easily enough by virtue of his red hair and did her best to look round him. She managed to glimpse the silver hair of Murdoch Tyndall and saw that he was standing beside a much shorter man. 'Is that his brother beside him?' she asked Paddy.

'Paddy craned one way and then the other before saying, 'Could be, I've never met him myself.'

'Doesn't look much like Murdoch,' said Sarah. She saw that Murdoch was scintillating as he usually did in company. He flashed a smile at regular intervals like a lighthouse and she could see the others in the group move their shoulders as they laughed at what he was saying. The shorter man however seemed strangely detached. He wasn't smiling and didn't appear to be interested in what was being said. No stomach for small talk, she concluded.

'Shall we try to get closer?' suggested Paddy.

Sarah nodded enthusiastically.

There was a table with food on it near to where Murdoch Tyndall's group were standing. They used this as an excuse for moving in that direction. Paddy picked up a plastic plate from the pile at the far end of the table and allowed the two serving waitresses to load it. He seemed to say "yes" to everything. Sarah accompanied him in the line but took nothing herself. There would be time to eat later. Some people moved away leaving a gap behind Tyndall's group. Sarah steered Paddy towards it, ignoring his protest that he hadn't finished heaping his plate.

'You can get more later!' scolded Sarah, 'I want to meet the great man.'

'You're a medical groupie!' hissed Paddy.

'I only want to talk to him,' replied Sarah with a smile. 'Find out what makes him tick, see what sets him apart from the rest of us.'

'Luck,' said Paddy. 'Being in the right place at the right time.'

Sarah shook her head and said, 'No, I think there's more to it than that.'

'The stamp of greatness?' smiled Paddy. 'Don't believe in it.'

'Cynic!' retorted Sarah.

'Realist,' said Paddy. He saw that Sarah's smile was being directed over his left shoulder and half turned to see who she was smiling at. Murdoch Tyndall had detached himself from his group and was coming towards them. He moved aside slightly to allow Tyndall access to Sarah.

'Dr Lasseter, you look positively ravishing,' said Tyndall. His eyes said that he meant it. 'I'm so glad you could come.' He half turned towards Paddy and said, 'And Dr ...'

'Duncan sir,' said Paddy.

'Ah yes, Dr Duncan. Glad you could make it.'

'It was good of Dr Logan to remain on duty this evening,' said Sarah.

'Quite so,' said Tyndall. 'But I've arranged some relief for him later so he won't miss all the fun.'

Sarah exchanged glances with Paddy. So that's it, she thought. Logan was getting the brownie points
and
the party. He would no doubt appear in a couple of hours time, still wearing his white coat and playing the role of the selfless, dedicated medic who had just managed to tear himself away from the care of the sick for a few moments.

'Good,' said Sarah. Paddy stifled a smile.

Sarah changed the subject quickly in case Tyndall had noticed. 'I didn't realise you had an interest in immunology sir?' she said.

Tyndall smiled self deprecatingly and said, 'It's my brother who's the star, Doctor but we discuss everything and I contribute the occasional idea.'

'I'm sure you are being far too modest sir,' said Sarah.

'I don't think you've met my brother Doctor,' said Tyndall turning away to look behind him.

Paddy shot Sarah an amused glance and whispered, 'Talk about Logan brown nosing!'

'Play 'em at their own game,' replied Sarah as Tyndall called to his brother to join them.

The man who joined them was the short man who Sarah had wondered about earlier. He still didn't smile but nodded curtly and shook hands with both Sarah and Paddy in turn as Murdoch Tyndall introduced them.

'Congratulations, Professor,' said Sarah. 'A brilliant piece of work.'

Tyndall smiled for the first time, a shy introverted smile which told Sarah that he was uneasy in the company of women. 'That's kind of you to say so Doctor,' he said. 'Do you have an interest in this kind of research?'

'I got interested in molecular biology at medical school Professor,' said Sarah. 'I understand that you identified the molecular trigger sequence of the virus?'