It took him a few minutes, but Charlie eventually worked his way around to the rear of the building, where there was a small staff car park. A door to the practice was ajar, and he set off towards this, pleased that his initiative had paid dividends.
As he reached the door, a powerful motorbike pulled into the car park. The rider, clad in black leathers and a matching helmet, revved the machine loudly before switching it off and dismounting.
After setting the motorcycle on its stand, the leather clad figure walked towards the staff entrance and Charlie White. “This is a private car park,” a muffled, male voice said from beneath the helmet. Its mirrored visor prevented White from seeing anything of the man’s face. “The public entrance is around the front.”
“Yes, I know,” White said, producing his warrant card. “I wanted to have a quick word with the practice manager before the surgery opens.”
James Sadler removed the helmet and starred at White in half recognition. “Don’t I know you?” he asked.
White smiled. “Aye, you do. You gave me some painkillers at Whitechapel police station the other night when I had the headache from hell.”
Sadler nodded. “Yes, I remember. You’re the murder squad chap, aren’t you?”
“That’s me,” White confirmed.
“You’d better come inside then,” Sadler announced, walking straight past the Scotsman.
It was much warmer inside, and White undid his raincoat as he followed the doctor through to the reception area, where a slim, middle aged woman with fair hair stared at him in surprise.
“Doreen, would you be kind enough to find Patricia for me. This gentleman is from the police and he would like a quick word with her.”
“Oh dear, I do hope she’s not in any trouble,” Doreen said, giving White a worried look.
“Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “I just need to speak to her about getting access to some medical records.”
“Is this in relation to the prostitute murders?” Sadler asked after Doreen had gone off to find the practice manager.
“Aye, it is,” White said. He produced two small photographs from inside his coat pocket and showed them to Sadler. “This one’s called Alice Pilkington, although she used the name of Natasha when she was working, and this one’s name is Geraldine Rye. She wasnae a sex worker, though. They’re both registered as patients here. Do the names of faces ring any bells?”
Sadler studied the images carefully for a few seconds, and then shook his head. “No, I can’t say I recall either of them, but to be fair, I see so many patients that they all blur into one after a while so I’m probably not the best person to ask.”
Just then, Doreen returned with a prissy looking, plump woman in her early fifties, whose expression could not have been any sourer if she had been sucking lemons.
Oh dear, Charlie thought. Thiswee wifey doesnae look the friendly type.
“Hello, I’m Patricia Dolton, the practice manager,” she announced, as though she were royalty. “How can I help you, Constable?”
White smiled inwardly. Dolton was a Scottish idiom for ‘idiot’.
“Actually, I’m a detective sergeant. Charlie White’s the name,” he said, producing his warrant card for inspection. She donned the reading glasses that had been hanging from her neck and examined the identification carefully, as though she suspected that it might be a fake. When she had studied every word written on it – twice – she handed it back.
“So, how can I be of assistance?” she asked, taking a liberal squirt from a wall mounted sanitiser and rubbing her hands together vigorously to get rid of any unpleasant germs that might be ingrained in the police officer’s warrant card.
Charlie took a deep breath and launched into an explanation that started with some detail about the three murders they were investigating, and concluded with a request for copies of the medical records of the two victims who were registered at the practice.
Although Doreen seemed riveted, Patricia was less impressed. “I see,” she said when he had concluded. “Well, I will have to discuss it with the doctor they were registered with, and then we can make an informed decision. I’ll get back to you sometime next week with an answer.”
White shook his head. “Sorry, but that won’t do. We have a killer on the loose and we really need to make this happen today, even if it means getting a production order from court.” He looked across at Dr Sadler, who had watched the exchange with detached interest. “I’m sure Dr Sadler will be sympathetic to our request, what with him being an FME and all. And I’m sure he’ll vouch for me when I say that patient confidentiality goes out the window when said patient has been murdered. What do you say, doc?”
Being awarded an FME contract was a very good earner, White knew, and he very much doubted that Sadler would want to be seen as obstructive when the police were conducting such a high-profile murder investigation. After all, you don’t bite the hand that feeds you, as the saying goes.
Sadler appeared to consider his stance on the matter, but White could already see in the other man’s eyes that he was going to give in.
“I’m sure we can accommodate your request today,” Sadler declared a moment later. “Doreen, can you check the system and confirm which GP these ladies were registered with, please,” he asked the receptionist without taking his eyes off the detective.
White affected a look of boredom, but inwardly he was feeling mightily pleased as he listened to the receptionist tapping away at her computer keyboard behind him.
“They’re both shown as your patients, Dr Sadler,” she stated as soon as the typing stopped.
“I see,” Sadler said. “In that case, Patricia, I have no objections to their release. I’ll leave you to prepare a copy of the two women’s records for the officer as I have to prepare
