'Only that it's his first residency and that he hasn't asked any of the nurses out.'
'Maybe he's married.'
'No.'
'Gay?'
'If he is he's not the effeminate type I'm told.'
The sky darkened and Fenton felt the first spot of rain on his cheek as another brief respite from the weather came to an end. The man in front of them stopped walking in order to put on a plastic raincoat. An old woman threatened Jenny's eyesight as she struggled to put up her umbrella. Fenton pushed it gently out of the way as they passed getting a dirty look for his trouble. They took refuge in a small cafe where the air was already dank with the condensation from wet clothing. The coffee was lukewarm and instant. 'What do we do now?' Jenny asked.
'Tell the police,' replied Fenton.
'I'm glad you said that,' said Jenny. 'This business scares me to death.'
When they returned to the hospital Fenton left word at the administration block that he would like to see Inspector Jamieson as soon as the policeman found it convenient. Jamieson duly turned up at the lab at half past two as Fenton was loading blood samples into a centrifuge. He watched what Fenton was doing for a few moments before moving across to the bookcase and peering through the glass doors in order to read the titles while he waited. He quickly tired of that and moved to the window.
Fenton closed the lid of the centrifuge and set the timer to run for ten minutes before pressing the start button and crossing the room to wash his hands in the sink. Jamieson still had his back to him; he was silhouetted against the cold grey light in the window.
'Sorry about that,' said Fenton apologising for the delay. Jamieson turned round and smiled dutifully. 'How can I help you?' he asked.
Fenton told Jamieson everything. He told him how he and Jenny had come to suspect that the killer was one of the medical staff and how they had gone about gathering evidence to support their contention. Everything, he said, seemed to point to Dr David Malcolm being implicated in the killings.
Jamieson listened without interruption, fiddling throughout with his moustache, brushing it upwards with his forefinger then smoothing it down again with both thumb and forefinger. 'I see sir,' he said when Fenton had finished. There was a long pause during which a distant clap of thunder heralded even more rain. Fenton was puzzled for, although he had not expected Jamieson to leap to his feet in excitement, he had anticipated a bit more than the catatonic trance that he appeared to have gone in to. At length the policeman got to his feet and said, 'Thank you sir, you did the right thing in telling us.'
'That's all?'
'What did you expect?' asked Jamieson pointedly dropping the 'sir'.
'Some comment I suppose. Some reaction?' replied Fenton.
'I'm a great believer in horses for courses sir,' said Jamieson.
'What does that mean?'
'It means that I don't tell you how to run your lab and you don't tell me how to do my job.'
Fenton saw the anger in Jamieson's eyes and was about to argue that he was only trying to help when Jamieson interrupted him.
'Give the police a little credit sir. We were perfectly well aware that Miss Daniels had had an inoculation shortly before her death; we also know that Sister Murphy administered it because Dr Malcolm was off duty that day. We also know that Dr Malcolm wasn't here on the day that Dr Munro was murdered because he was attending a one day seminar at Stirling Royal Infirmary; in fact, we were able to eliminate Dr Malcolm from our inquiries some time ago. We know all that sir because it is our job to know all that.'
Fenton felt foolish. 'I'm sorry, I've wasted your time,' he said contritely.
'Not at all sir,' said Jamieson. He left the room.
Fenton was left sitting astride a wooden lab stool watching the rain stream down through the grime on the windows. He had made a fool of himself and now suffered the humiliation in silence. The sound of the decelerating centrifuge said that his blood samples were ready for analysis.
Jenny was equally dejected when Fenton told her what had happened but, in characteristic fashion, she looked for something positive to take out of the experience and said, 'At least it shows that police know what they are doing.'
Ferguson ignored the comment and said, 'I felt about two inches tall when Jamieson put me in my place. He enjoyed doing it too, I could tell.'
'You're probably imagining it,' said Jenny.
'No, I don't think so,' said Fenton reliving the experience as he stared into the fire.
Jenny looked at him and smiled. 'Well, we can't really blame him can we,' she said. 'We were trying to do his job for him.'
Fenton returned to the present and shrugged. 'I suppose you're right,' he sighed.
'And if we are absolutely honest with ourselves,' said Jenny getting to her feet and ruffling Fenton's hair, “Thomas Fenton was never one to like being proved wrong…'
'There's a letter for you on the hall table,' said Fenton changing the subject.
The sound from the hall told Fenton that Jenny had not opened a bill. 'Tom! It's from my brother Grant, he's coming to Edinburgh next week with Jamie. Do you remember? Jamie fell off his tricycle and injured his eye a while back. He's to see a specialist at the Eye Pavilion.'
'What day?'
Jenny paused in the doorway, scanning down the letter for the answer. 'Wednesday…next Wednesday. They've to be at the hospital on Friday morning.'
'They can stay here if you like,' said Fenton.
'Tom, could they?' asked Jenny, obviously pleased at the suggestion.
'Of course.' said Fenton. He stretched his arms in the air and then put his hands behind his head.
'Why don't you have a nice warm bath before the film comes on?' said Jenny.
The sound of Fenton cursing from the bathroom brought Jenny out into the hall. 'The main cistern is overflowing,' he said looking at the stream of brownish water that was trickling into the bath from the overflow pipe.
'Can you fix it?'
'I think so, I'll need the ladders.' Fenton fetched a pair of step ladders, propped them up outside the bathroom and climbed up to open the door leading to the cistern. Jenny handed him a torch then waited patiently at the foot of the steps. 'Can you see what's wrong?
'Well, missus,' said Fenton, affecting a loud sniff, 'Looks like your grommet sprocket's gone and that's no joke.'
'Oh my goodness,' said Jenny in a dizzy blonde voice, 'My grommet sprocket! Whatever shall I do?'
'Well, yer gonna need a new one, and that's fifty nicker for a start. An' if yer globbin shaft's gone as well, that's another fifty, and then there's me time…'
'Good gracious I didn't realise it was so serious, however can I pay you? I'm only a poor little nurse…' Jenny rubbed her hand gently up and down Fenton's leg.
'Well missus…I think we can come to some arrangement. Steady! I'll fall off this ladder.'
Jenny paid no attention. She slid her hand into Fenton's crotch. 'Heavens, what's this?' crooned the dizzy blonde voice, 'Could this be the globbin shaft? Seems to be in excellent condition.' She started to pull down Fenton's zip.
'Jenny, for God's sake…'
FOUR
The following morning brought yet more wind and rain and Fenton, who had harboured a lifelong hatred of wind, found his patience strained to the limit. 'Will it never let up!' he growled as he opened the curtains to look on wet roofs and whirling chimney pots. 'Another wrestling match with the bike.'
