Trauma (35 page)

'And maybe even later than that,' said Sarah. 'It also depends on my off-duty. That's partly why I was hoping to see Professor Tyndall this afternoon. I'm off duty until tomorrow morning.'

'I see,' said Lafferty. 'Look, John Main is coming round later. Why don't you come over and join us?'

'What time?'

'Come whenever you're ready.'

Sarah arrived at St Xavier's a little after seven to find Lafferty 'doing a bit of tidying up' as he put it. 'My housekeeper will be off for a few days,' he said. 'She's had a bit of a shock.' When Main arrived at half past, Lafferty told them both about the cause of her shock.

'How awful,' said Sarah.

'Another warning,' said Main.

'One for each of us,' said Lafferty. 'On the plus side it means that they still think it worthwhile trying to convince us that black magic is involved.'

'And on the minus?' asked Sarah.

'They know we are working together. That must have come from Logan seeing us together. 'It's just possible that Sarah might get a little 'present' from them too.

Sarah screwed up her face at the thought of it.

'In the meantime, we are running out of time,' said Lafferty.

'How so?' asked Main.

'The Keegan boy is due to be buried on Thursday and Sarah doesn't think she will get a chance to sniff around at the medical school by then.'

'Then maybe I could try?' suggested Main.

Lafferty and Sarah looked at each other in surprise. 'How?' Sarah asked.

'You tell me,' said Main. 'What sort of people visit the medical school?'

Sarah shrugged and said, 'Company reps, service engineers, undertakers, delivery men, all sorts.'

'Then there's lots to choose from,' said Main positively. 'We just have to decide what I'm going to be.'

'And which part of the building you want to be in,' said Sarah. 'It's a big place.'

'There is that,' agreed Main.

'But the bodies must all end up in the medical school mortuary, surely?' said Lafferty.

'I suppose they must,' agreed Sarah,

'That would fit with what the undertaker told me,' said Lafferty.

'Then I could be an undertaker's man,' said Main.

'Wouldn't you need a hearse?' asked Sarah.

'Not necessarily,' said Main. 'I remember you said something a while ago about undertakers measuring bodies?' replied Main.

'That's right,' said Sarah, sounding more positive as she followed Main's line of thought. 'Most of them pay the mortuary attendants to measure the bodies for them so they can supply the right size of coffin but a few firms prefer to do it themselves. You could turn up to measure a body.'

Main nodded.

'Are you sure you feel up to it,' asked Lafferty.

'I'm up to it,' replied Main.

'But who would you be measuring?' asked Sarah.

'I'll make up a name,' said Main. 'The real point is to gain access to the mortuary. If I give a name and there's no body to match it then someone will have to check with somebody else and so on and so forth. Mix-ups and incompetence are a way of life in most public service institutions. While they’re looking for someone who's not there, I'll be taking a look at who is.'

'It might just work,' agreed Lafferty.

'There aren't that many undertakers in town,' said Sarah. 'It's likely that the mortuary attendants know them all. They will spot you as an imposter right away.'

Main thought for a moment then said, 'I could be from out of town. That's it! The hospital must have patients from all over the country in it. I could be acting for a firm in Aberdeen or Inverness or anywhere.'

Sarah could think of no further objection. She looked at Lafferty who shrugged and said, 'Personally, I think it's worth a try.'

'Good,' said Main. 'Then it's settled.'

As she walked across the courtyard to the main hospital, Sarah saw Murdoch Tyndall's dark green Jaguar parked outside HTU. If Tyndall was in at this time in the morning she decided, something was wrong. She wasn't surprised therefore when Sister Roche told her that the professor wanted to see her.

'Come in Sarah, sit down.'

Sarah sat down in front of Tyndall's desk and saw that he wasn't his usual urbane self. 'I'm afraid Dr Logan has left us,' he said.

'Left?' exclaimed Sarah with genuine surprise.

'I'm afraid so,' said Tyndall. 'For whatever reason, Dr Logan feels that he can no longer work here so he won't be coming back.'

'I see,' said Sarah, though nothing could have been further from the truth. She was feverishly trying to work things out in her own head. Had things become too hot for Logan to handle?

'This of course, leaves us with a problem,' continued Tyndall.

'A problem sir?' asked Sarah almost absent mindedly.

'With Dr Logan gone, I am afraid I can no longer sanction your secondment to the medical school. We will need all the experienced people we have.'

'Of course,' replied Sarah.

'But as Dr Logan was the source of your 'discontent' perhaps this won't come as too big a blow to you?'

'No, of course not sir,' replied Sarah. She was still trying to work out the repercussions. Even if Logan had made a bolt for it, could they still nail him? They could if they could show that Martin Keegan's body had been taken, she decided. But now, it looked as if John Main was going to be their only chance of proving it.

'I'm arranging for a locum of course,' said Tyndall. 'But for the meantime I would be grateful if you do your best to hold the fort. As soon as I get things organised today I myself will take over Dr Logan's shifts.'

'Very good sir.'

'Now that you're here I'll take myself off to the administration people and see if I can get some action out of them. I'll be wearing my bleeper. Call me if you need me.'

Sarah watched Tyndall disappear through the door and collected her thoughts for a few moments before walking through to the duty room where Sister Roche and three nurses were in a huddle.

'Is it true that Derek's done a runner?’ asked the night staff nurse who had lingered on because of the rumour. Sister Roche shot her a disapproving glance. She didn't like her nurses being too familiar.

'Apparently,' said Sarah.

'Why?' asked the nurse.

'I've no idea.'

'Well, I'm not going to shed any tears,' said the youngest of the three nurses, a second year student. 'He was bloody rude.'

'That's enough Nurse,' said Roche sharply. She had decided that things had gone far enough; the reins of discipline had to be applied.

The gathering broke up and Sarah started to read through the patients' charts. She glanced up at the clock on the wall and saw that it was just after nine thirty. She wondered if John Main was on his way to the medical school.

Main checked his pockets to see that he had everything he needed. He knew he was just doing it out of nerves. It was third time he had done so in as many minutes. Satisfied again that his wallet and keys and a measuring tape - his one stage prop - were where they should be, he left the flat and set off for the medical school.

At ten o'clock on a Tuesday morning the traffic was beginning to thin out a bit after the rush hour but he still experienced a couple of hold ups, both courtesy of the gas board who had dug up the road in order to drink tea and read newspapers inside Bedford vans, thought Main uncharitably as the final hold up extended to over four minutes. He considered trying to park inside the hospital gates on the grounds that he was there on official business but then decided against it. He had nothing on paper that he could use to convince officialdom. He toured slowly around the neighbouring streets until he found a space being vacated by a delivery van. He noted that waiting was 'limited to twenty minutes' in this area but decided to take his chances. If he managed to get what he had come for, the fine would be a small price to pay. He asked at the medical school gate house for directions to the mortuary and was given instructions by a uniformed man who stepped outside in order to add pointing to his verbal directions. Main noticed that he said 'left' while his hand pointed to the right but he picked up the general gist of it.

When he finally reached the door with MORTUARY above it, he could find no other instructions. There didn't seem to be any kind of Reception area or office nearby. There was no one around so he tried the handle and the door opened. He stepped inside.

The mortuary was much larger than Main had anticipated but then he realised that he had overlooked the student training aspect of the place. Many of the bodies here would be class material bound for the dissecting tables of first year anatomy and physiology students, perhaps not the noble end their owners had in mind when they had donated their bodies for the furthering of medical research but necessary all the same.

'Can I help you?' asked a voice.

Main nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't heard anyone come up behind him. He turned to find a small, thin man wearing white overalls with a green plastic apron tied on over them. He was looking at Main through glasses that seemed so thick Main felt they must weigh a kilo. His skin was red as if it had been exposed to the sun for too long but this was Scotland in winter. There had to be a more pathological reason.

'I'm from Magraw and Littlejohn,' said Main. 'I've come to measure up Andrew Lamont for his wooden overcoat.'

The eyes behind the glasses stared at him as if he was an insect under a magnifying glass. 'Who did you say you were from?'

Magraw and Littlejohn in Aberdeen,' answered Main.

Another stare but this time the man said, 'We've got no Lamont here that I know of.' He called out, 'Malcolm! Know anything about an Andrew Lamont?'

A second man appeared from an adjoining room. He was wearing the same overalls as the first and was holding a large sewing needle in his hand with what looked a length of plastic thread trailing from it. He had obviously been disturbed in the middle of something. Main preferred not to think what.

'Have you checked the book?' asked the second man.

'No. Thought you might know,' said the first man. He left Main alone while he went off to check and the second man disappeared from sight again. Main started to look around. Most of the bodies would be in the refrigerated body vaults but he was looking for a coffin. There were four in the room, one on the floor in a far corner and three were set out side by side on wooden trestles at the end of the row of body vaults. He moved quickly and silently across the room to the one on the floor and saw there was no name plate on the lid. He pushed his foot against the side and it moved. It was empty. Just as he was crossing to the other coffins, the man with the glasses returned. Once again he did so silently and caught Main unawares. Almost subconsciously Main looked at the man's feet and saw he was wearing purple socks and slippers. All he needs is a name like 'Igor' thought Main. 'Big place,' he said with what he hoped was a disarming smile. The man with the glasses stared at him again then said, 'There's no one called Lamont in the book.

'Oh shit,' exclaimed Main. 'There must be. You're not going to tell me I've come all this way and there's some bloody mix up in the paperwork? Someone's probably forgotten to enter him in the book?'

The man with glasses pointed to the body vaults and said forcibly, 'If he was in there I'd know about it. Right?'

Main backed off. He raised his hands, palms outwards and said, 'All right, all right, I believe you. But if he's not here, where the hell is he? Still lying up in the wards? I mean, shit, I can hardly tell my boss that the corpse isn't here and he'd better get the relations to cancel the funeral can I?'

The man with the glasses thought for a moment then said, 'Wait here.' He went off to confer with his colleague next door. Main decided that there wouldn't be enough time to examine the other three coffins. He was right. The man with the glasses returned quickly and said, 'I'll go up to the main office and check.'

'I'm obliged to you,' said Main as he watched the man go out through the door. As soon as it closed he hurried silently across to where the three coffins lay on their trestles and examined the first one. There was a brass plate on the lid. It said, Isabella Hartley and gave her dates. RIP. A paper label, also stuck on the lid, gave the name of the undertakers and the time of collection. Isabella Hartley was to be buried at two thirty that same afternoon.

Main was reading the name on the third coffin and drawing his third blank when the door opened and a man wearing a suit entered. His jacket was open to reveal a gold brocade waistcoat. He was carrying a case about twice the size of a conventional brief case and had a rolled-up newspaper under his other arm. He saw Main and asked who he was in a tone of voice that suggested he had the right to ask these things. Main told him and explained that there seemed to have been a mix-up in the paperwork over the body he had been sent to measure.