'But I'm not one of them,' he added, smiling at his own joke.
'Oh.'
'I believe you said your predecessor had broken his leg while skiing, Inspector.'
'Yes, I'm afraid so. I've read his reports but I find the personal approach more useful.'
'I can understand that. We were all devastated by Clive's Mr. Jordan's death. He was one of the best obs and gynae surgeons in the business and one of the finest human beings I've ever known. The Lord truly moves in mysterious ways How can I help you, Inspector?'
I'd just noticed the tiny crucifix in his lapel. 'I believe,' I said, 'that you perform abortions here?'
'We do, Inspector, but do not confuse that by assuming we approve of them. Nobody approves of abortion. It is wrong, full stop. However, the issue is not as simple as that. I'm sure you know the arguments, but to fast forward to the bottom line, the attitude of the White Rose Clinic is to be in favour of giving the prospective mother the informed choice of either continuing with the pregnancy or having a termination.
Ultimately, it is between her and God, or her conscience. We create a safe, non-judge mental environment in which she can reach a decision, and supply all the counselling and medical support she needs. We consider this to be a responsible approach to a very difficult situation.'
Perhaps, I thought. 'And Dr. Jordan actually performed the terminations?' I suggested.
'Yes, he did.'
'So how many would he do?'
'Most of our other clients are with us for two, sometimes three, days.
We work to a cycle which means most beds are available on Wednesdays and Saturdays, which is when we perform the terminations. The usual figure is somewhere between a dozen and… oh, as many as twenty on a Wednesday, with perhaps six or eight on a Saturday.'
Cicely came in with the coffee and returned the smile I gave her. This time I decided to indulge myself, and used the cream and sugar.
I quizzed the doctor about the workings of a private clinic. He was helpful and completely at ease with the situation. The cosmetic surgery was usually done on Mondays and Thursdays, by surgeons moonlighting from other hospitals, although he didn't use that word.
He'd moved into administration early in his career, after finding that 'It was all something over nothing,' he said, his brow furrowed with concentration, 'but I can't remember the details. It was completely unfounded, I can assure you of that. We'd just opened, and Clive had been highly recommended to us, then this happened, at the General. It put a bit of a cloud over him for a few weeks, but it all blew over.
Your best bet will be to ask at the General they'll tell you all about it.'
'If I can find someone to ask,' I said. 'If I can cut through all the red tape. If I can find someone who doesn't start telling me about confidentiality. There are ways of extracting information from institutions like the General, Dr. Barraclough, but like I said, I prefer the personal approach. I'd be very grateful if you could give me a head start.'
'Yes, I know what you mean, but I'm sure it was all a storm in a teacup.'
'It might not have been a storm in a teacup to the complainant.'
'You mean someone might have borne him a grudge?'
'Something like that.'
'Could you leave it with me, Inspector? You're quite right, there was something, a few days after he joined us, but it all blew over. I'd forgotten all about it but it should be in there, somewhere. My secretary is off today, but I'll ask her to dig out Clive's file, first thing in the morning, if that's OK?'
'That will be fine. I'll look forward to hearing from you and thanks for your cooperation.'
I went down the short corridor that led back to the foyer. I thought about standing there and yelling: 'Step forward everybody that Clive Jordan was shagging!' but decided it might be against Dr.
Barraclough's guidelines, and I didn't want anyone killed in the stampede. I'd have to do it the hard way.
Mrs. Cicely Henderson was not one of the names I'd highlighted, but I decided to start with her. I like to keep my methods flexible.
'Thanks for the coffee,' I said.
'You're welcome,' she replied. 'Was Dr. Barraclough able to help you?'
'Yes, he was. And he's given me permission to talk to all the staff, so I've decided to start with you.' I gave her my lopsided grin and just knew her legs were turning to jelly Some of her make-up had rubbed off on to the edge of her tunic's mandarin collar. She'd have to have a fresh clean one every day, eye-squinting white and crisp as an iceberg lettuce. I wondered what she was like at ironing shirts I told her about Makinson' sbroken leg, just to be friendly and explained that I was doing follow-up interviews. Someone had spoken to her early in the enquiry, but she'd said that she rarely saw the doctor and had heard no scurrilous gossip about him.
'How often did you see him?' I asked.
'Just once a week, when he came in on a Wednesday ' 'Did you speak to him?'
'He'd stop here for a moment and ask me how I was that's all.'
'I get the impression that he was a bit of a charmer' 'Yes, he was, if you like that sort of thing.'
'A ladies' man?'
'Yes, I'd say so.'
'You're an attractive woman,' I stated. 'Did he ever approach you?
Chat you up? Invite you out?' I gave myself a small pat on the back for slipping the compliment in and making it sound like a professional observation She looked uncomfortable and might even have blushed under the make- up.
'N-No,' she stuttered, meaning yes.
'You don't seem sure.'
'Well, it doesn't seem right, talking about the dead when they can't defend themselves.'
'The doctor was murdered, Mrs. Henderson,' I reminded her. 'It's my job to defend him, by tracking down his killer. If you know something that isn't in your previous statement you'd better tell me right now.'
She sighed and said: 'Right.'
I was standing at her desk and there was no handy chair for me to pull closer. 'Come and sit over here,' I said, and walked across to a small sofa.
She sat down next to me and crossed her legs. Her tights were the same shade as the pancake mix on her face. 'That's better,' I said. 'Now what do you want to tell me?'
'About four years ago,' she began. 'Clive Mr. Jordan invited me out.
I'd left my husband about three years earlier and was still off men. He was very persistent but I kept saying no. Then he stopped asking me.'
'Right,' I said. 'Right. Thank you. He must have been very disappointed.'
'There's more.'
'Oh. Go on, then.'
'As I said earlier, two of us work full-time on reception. This week I'm covering from eight a.m. to four p.m. My opposite number is called Josephine Farrier. She comes on at three and stays until ten. Josie Mrs. Farrier was having an affair with Clive.'
'Are you sure?'
'She told me herself. He must have approached her after I turned him down. Last summer she poured her heart out to me said she loved him, wanted to leave Eric, her husband, and the two children. Unfortunately for her, that was the last thing on Clive's mind. It was all a bit pathetic real Marj Proops stuff. It had been going on for years, she said, after work. When she was on early she was supposed to be at a pottery class, would you believe?'
'It happens,' I said. 'People in love do desperate things. Do you think her husband Eric knew?'
'I don't know. I told her not to be so stupid. Men only wanted one thing, I told her, and Clive was no different to the rest of them.'
For a moment I felt… invisible. 'You weren't very sympathetic,' I said.
'It wasn't sympathy she needed, it was a good shaking.'
'Right. Did you tell her that she'd been the doc's second choice, after you?'
