Chameleon

'You can't,' said the girl.

Jamieson thought he detected a sob in the girl's voice. He frowned and looked at Evans who was listening in. 'It's very important. Perhaps I could speak to your mother if your father isn't there?'

'No, you can't… Mummy's upset. Call back another time.' The phone went dead leaving Jamieson to exchange puzzled looks with Evans. 'What do you make of that?' he asked.

Evans shrugged and scratched at his red hair. It made a noise like sandpaper on wood. 'Something's obviously happened over at Thelwell's house.'

'I'm going to call Moira's flat again,' said Jamieson. He checked the number in Evans' book and dialled quickly. Once more Moira Lippman's flat-mate answered. 'No, she hasn't come back yet. Is something wrong?'

'Frankly I'm not sure,' replied Jamieson, feeling even more anxious. 'If she returns soon will you ask her to contact the hospital switchboard and leave a message for Dr Jamieson?'

'I'll do that,' said Moira's flatmate. 'Perhaps you would let me know if you find her first?'

'Of course,' said Jamieson.

'What now?' asked Evans.

Jamieson hesitated for a moment and then said, 'I think I'm going to go round to Thelwell's house.'

'At this time?' exclaimed Evans.

'You said yourself that there's something going on. I have to find out what.'

'I'll come with you,' said Evans seeing that Jamieson had made up his mind.

It took less than ten minutes to drive through the deserted streets to Latimer Gardens where the Thelwells lived. Jamieson found Thelwell's Volvo parked outside his house. Another car, a beige Rover was parked directly behind it and Jamieson thought it vaguely familiar.

Evans said, 'That's Carew's car.'

'Carew? What the hell is he doing here?'

Jamieson drew up behind the Rover and he and Evans walked briskly towards the gate. As they passed the Volvo, Jamieson put his hand on the bonnet and noted that it was cold. Thelwell had been home for some time.

It was Carew who opened the door of the house when they rang. When he got over his surprise at seeing Jamieson and Evans standing there he recovered his composure and said, 'How did you know? I was expecting the police.'

'Police?' asked Jamieson.

'You'd better come in,' said Carew. He put his hand on Jamieson's shoulder to signify that he should wait while he closed the door and then whispered, 'I'm afraid there's been a bit of a tragedy.'

Jamieson felt his heart sink.

'What kind of a tragedy?' asked Evans.

'Mr Thelwell is dead.'

Jamieson was stunned. He had been so afraid that he was going to hear some bad news about Moira Lippman that this was the last thing in the world he expected to hear. He waited for Carew to elaborate and had to contain himself while Carew shook his head and looked at the floor in a solemn display of official grief. 'Tragic, tragic,' he muttered. 'A Brilliant man, not always the easiest of men to get along with, I'll admit but that's often the way in these things. Don't you think?'

Jamieson found the question ridiculous just as he found Carew's apparent need to improvise an obituary for Thelwell ridiculous. Thelwell had been a shit. He had been loathed by almost everyone. There would be plenty time later to translate this into the standard, 'Didn't suffer fools gladly' routine but right now he wanted to find out what had happened. He ignored Carew's question and asked, 'What happened?'

'He took his own life.'

'Thelwell?' exclaimed Jamieson almost involuntarily. 'Committed suicide?'

Carew gave a nervous glance at the door behind him and Jamieson deduced that Thelwell's family must be in the room. He lowered his voice, 'I'm sorry,' he said, 'But Mr Thelwell wasn't the sort I would have thought liable to take his own life.'

'I suppose that goes for me too,' agreed Carew with another exaggerated shake of the head. 'But the poor man did. Who among us can ever know fully what goes on in another man's mind?'

'What happened exactly?' asked Evans this time in a matter of fact Welsh accent that seemed to ridicule Carew's whispering air of reverence. Carew gave him a distasteful look and said, looking at Jamieson rather than Evans, 'Marion said that he was very upset when he got back from choir practice this evening. Apparently he went straight to his study and locked the door. She was alarmed some time later when she couldn't get a reply from him and in the end had to enlist the help of a neighbour to break down the door. Mr Thelwell was found to be dead.'

'I'd like to see him,' said Jamieson.

Carew looked shocked. 'Is that really necessary? The police are on their way and I really don't think that…'

'I'd like to see him,' repeated Jamieson.

'As you wish,' Carew concurred. 'He's upstairs.'

Jamieson and Evans followed the medical superintendent up the green carpeted stairs to an oak panelled door that creaked as Carew opened it with obvious reluctance. 'Nothing has been touched,' he said. 'I strongly recommend that we keep it that way until the police have finished their business.' He stepped back in order to allow Jamieson to enter. Evans followed in his wake, attracting another annoyed glance from Carew.

Jamieson was unprepared for the sight that met him and recoiled slightly. For some subconscious reason he had expected Thelwell to have killed himself with poison or drugs but he found the surgeon's body slumped across his desk in a crimson pool of blood. In his right hand he still held the scalpel that he had used to slit his jugular vein. Jamieson remembered how Thelwell had opened his mail with the paper knife and he grimaced slightly. Thelwell's eyes were wide open and they retained in death the sullen anger that he had managed to sustain so persistently in life.

'Ye gods,' said Evans in a whisper. 'Why on earth…'

'There was a brief note for his wife,' said Carew, taking an envelope from his pocket. He handed it to Jamieson.

Jamieson removed the single sheet of blue note paper from the envelope and opened it. It read, 'My Dear Marion, It's all going to come out and I can't bear the shame. Please try to understand there are some forces inside a man which cannot be denied however strong the will. I tried but have failed so now I have to pay the price.' The note was signed with the initial 'G'. Jamieson handed it back to Carew who said, 'Most peculiar. Wouldn't you agree?'

Jamieson gave a half nod and asked, 'What did his wife say when she read this?'

'Marion was totally bemused,' replied Carew. 'The poor woman has no idea at all what it all means.'

'Poetic in a way,' said Evans looking at Thelwell's corpse with his head on one side.

'What is?' snapped Carew, still annoyed at Evans' presence.

'That Mr Thelwell should die by his own hand just like Dr Richardson. It's almost as if it were fated for the pair of them. Constantly at loggerheads in life, still locked together in death you might say.'

Once again, Jamieson was conscious of Evans' Welsh accent. He had often noticed that people under stress exhibited accents that were normally subdued or absent at other times.

'I see nothing poetic about any of it,' said Carew brusquely. 'This whole infection business has done untold harm to the hospital and its reputation. And now this has to happen.'

Jamieson continued to stare at Thelwell's corpse.

'Do you understand the note?' Carew asked Jamieson.

Jamieson was reluctant to answer. In the end he said, 'I think we will have to wait for the police to explain it all fully.'

'The police? I don't understand.'

Jamieson looked at Carew who was still waiting for an explanation and said, 'If Mr Thelwell had something to hide, a full police investigation may clear up a lot of things.

Carew looked more bemused than ever. He was unprepared to let the matter rest at that. He said, 'I don't understand what you are getting at. What do you mean something to hide? What could he have to hide? Apart from