‘No,’ Lorimer broke in, ‘before that, please. We’d like you to tell us everything that happened from the time you arrived for your shift.’
‘Oh.’ The woman looked from one of them to the other. Her mouth was open and her eyes looked vacant for a moment. Lorimer wondered just how much medication she’d been given. And by whom? a little voice asked.
The mouth closed and the jaw became firmer. Her bosom heaved in a long sigh. ‘I start at ten so I was here at about twenty-to. The bus drops me off at the Monument and I walk the rest of the way. It only takes about five minutes or so. The patients are usually ready for their beds although there’s no strict rule. We don’t put out lights or anything like that. They can sit up and watch telly if they like. Some of them don’t sleep too well, either. But most of them are early bedders.
‘And which ones aren’t, Mrs Duncan?’ Lorimer wanted to know.
‘Oh,’ the woman looked confused as if unsure whether by imparting this information she might be implicating a patient.
‘Sometimes Leigh sits up late. He likes to watch the creepy programmes.’ She leant forward, speaking in a whisper of confidentiality, ‘I don’t think he should, mind you, but that kind of thing’s not my decision.’
‘Leigh?’ Lorimer was looking down the list of patients’ names.
‘Leigh Quinn,’ Mrs Duncan supplied. ‘The Irishman,’ Wilson added.
Lorimer nodded. Leigh Quinn had been practically non-verbal during his interview, staring out of the window mostly. Afterwards they’d decided that a good look at his case notes would be required. The man didn’t seem quite on the same planet as the other patients.
‘Did you notice anything unusual during the earlier part of your shift, Mrs, Duncan?’ asked Wilson.
Brenda Duncan chewed her bottom lip for a moment or two, her eyes fixed on the bag on her lap. Then she shook her head, still gazing down as if struggling to see the events of the previous night in her mind.
‘Nothing untoward, then. Just a normal night?’
The woman nodded her head.
‘Where were you before you found Nurse MacLeod’s body?’ Wilson spoke in a matter-of-fact voice.
‘Where was I?’ Brenda Duncan looked flustered. ‘I, em, I would be…’ her voice trailed off as she looked at the detective sergeant.
‘Just take your time,’ he told her. ‘Try to remember your movements. What you were doing on the normal night shift.’
‘I suppose I’d been round the doors. They leave some doors open for the patients. The ones that need a bit of watching, you know,’ she whispered again. ‘I chatted with Peter, he’s one of the nurses who sit with their patients at night. They all have designated nurses, you see,’ she explained, nodding to emphasise her point.
‘Can you remember what you chatted about?’ Wilson asked, an encouraging smile on his face.
‘He was telling me about his holidays. He’s just booked up a fortnight in Mallorca for himself and the family. I remember because it was such a windy night and I told him he was lucky to be getting away from all this horrible weather.’
‘And then?’ Alistair Wilson let the question dangle in front of the woman like bait. Lorimer had been watching her face with interest. It had become more and more animated as she’d continued, almost as if she was relishing the build-up to her discovery of Kirsty’s body. A dramatic event in a humdrum existence, perhaps? Sure enough there was a pause for effect and Brenda Duncan cast her eyes down. Lorimer watched her fumble in her handbag for a handkerchief. There was a loud blowing of her nose before the woman took up her story again.
‘I went to make cocoa for Kirsty and me. There’s a wee kitchen through the doors from where the patients’ rooms are. I was surprised when I saw Kirsty wasn’t there. She should’ve been down from checking the upstairs rooms by then. I thought maybe she’d gone to the bathroom, but I’d have seen her going past.’
‘It struck you as odd?’ Lorimer asked quietly, confirming the tone in the woman’s voice.
She nodded, ‘Aye. Odd. You could say that. Anyway she didn’t come back and the cocoa was getting cold so I thought I’d better go and find her. She wasn’t in the loo and she wasn’t in either of the residents’ lounges.’ Brenda Duncan bit her lip. ‘I don’t know what made me go along the back corridor. Maybe it was when the light came on.’
‘What light?’ Lorimer demanded.
Brenda Duncan frowned. ‘It was funny, now I come to think of it. The back corridor light just came on. I hadn’t noticed it was off until I was through the swing-doors then it just came on.’
Wilson scribbled something on his notepad.
‘Go on, please,’ Lorimer pressed her.
‘I didn’t see anything at first. I just walked along the corridor. It was that quiet. Then I heard a noise. A kind of scraping sound. It was the door down to the basement. Someone had left it open and it was creaking in the wind. I pushed it open and switched on the light. And then I saw her.’
This time the pause was for real. Lorimer could see fear loom large in the woman’s widening eyes and he could easily imagine her screams. But now her voice sank to a whisper as she stared past them.
‘She was lying on her back. I thought at first she’d fallen, so I hurried down the stairs.’ She swallowed hard. ‘Then I saw it. That flower. I knew then. I just knew she was dead.’
‘Did you feel for a pulse?’ Wilson asked.
She shook her head and Lorimer saw her eyes staring into space, mesmerised by that image fixed in her brain.
‘Kirsty was dead and all I could think of was that she hadn’t had her cocoa!’ Brenda Duncan suddenly burst into tears. The woman PC who had accompanied her into the lounge was by her side now and looking quizzically at Lorimer for instructions. No doubt she was expecting him to terminate the interview. Spare the poor woman any further suffering. Well, that wasn’t always Lorimer’s way. There were still things he needed to know.
‘How long was it between the time you saw Nurse MacLeod alive and the discovery of the body?’ The question brought a halt to the flow of tears. There was a wiping of eyes and the WPC retreated to her post by the lounge door. Brenda Duncan looked distractedly around her for a moment.
‘I’m not sure, really. I remember it was after midnight on the alarm clock in one of the rooms. I’d seen Kirsty about quarter-past eleven, maybe. She’d been writing up some paperwork before she went upstairs. I went through the front to check the rooms. I put fresh loo rolls in, give the basins a wipe, that sort of thing.’ She looked nervously at Lorimer. ‘I don’t know what time it was when I made the cocoa. Not long after.’
‘So that was the last time you saw her alive. At approximately eleven-fifteen?’
The woman’s lip trembled. ‘I just made her cocoa. We’d always have a blether. But she never came. She never came.’ Brenda Duncan clutched herself with both arms rocking back and forwards, whimpering softly.
‘Thank you, Mrs Duncan.’ Lorimer was finished with her for the moment. He nodded to Wilson who rose and helped the woman to her feet. ‘If you would just follow the officer out. We have a car to take you home,’ Lorimer’s detective sergeant reassured her. ‘There will be a statement to sign later on but we’ll let you know about that.’
‘Oh, just one more thing,’ Lorimer’s voice stopped them in their tracks. ‘What about the patient whose room is at the back of the nursing home?’
Brenda Duncan looked nonplussed. Then she gave a small shake of the head. ‘Oh. You mean Phyllis? She’s an MS patient. Totally paralysed. Can’t speak. Poor thing. Mrs Baillie can tell you more, I’m sure.’ She looked uncertainly at Lorimer then added, ‘Can I go now?’
‘Of course. Thank you for your help.’
Lorimer stood looking out as the police car drove off. She hadn’t mentioned seeing to Phyllis Logan that night. Had anybody spoken to the owner of the Grange? Was she even aware that a murder had taken place under her own roof?
Chapter Twelve
Sometimes he let his mind wander back to the time when he’d been happiest. In his memory the days were
