MacGregor stared at his notebook. ‘And all this happened on his first visit? Three weeks ago?’
‘That’s right. Naturally I don’t have the facilities for doing all the lab work here so I had to send the specimens to the hospital. I told him he’d have to wait a week or so but that I’d give him a ring when the results came through. Well, the other day I got the results from the hospital laboratory and I rang him up right away and suggested he should pop in and see me. He came round within — oh, a couple of hours or so.’
MacGregor had his mouth open to ask the next question but Dover got his in first. ‘He gave you the name of John Perking, did he?’
‘Yes, I’ve even got it written down here.’ Dr Nayland fumbled in his shoe box. ‘And he gave his address care of the Safari-Agogo Travel Agency and their phone number.’
‘Funny,’ said Dover, looking crossly at the doctor. ‘You’d have thought he’d have given a false name, wouldn’t you? I mean, since he’d gone to all this trouble to consult a strange doctor and everything.’
Dr Nayland understood the point very well. ‘Mind you, I had to get in touch with him when the lab results came through. You never know how long these things are going to take. It might be a week or it might be six. It wouldn’t be on, would it? —me ringing up this travel agency and asking for Mr Smith.’
‘No,’ agreed Dover glumly. ‘Perhaps you’ve got something there.’
‘Besides,’ added Dr Nayland, ‘I didn’t know him from Adam anyhow.’
‘You must be about the only person in Pott Winckle who doesn’t,’ groused Dover and switched himself off again.
MacGregor looked at the Chief Inspector and, on the evidence of the closed eyes, the sagging jowl and the heavy breathing, concluded that he could resume the questioning.
‘The second time Perking came to see you, what was his manner like?’
‘Well,’ said Dr Nayland, wrinkling his brow in thought, ‘I seem to remember he was pretty much on edge when he came in. Apprehensive. You can hardly blame him, can you? Rotten thing for a chap to have hanging over him. He took it very badly when I told him. Seemed to think it was my fault. He got quite nasty about it. Just for a minute I thought he was going to belt me one. In the end I had to let him read the lab report before he’d calm down. He didn’t understand it, of course. They never do, but, if a bit of medical jargon gives ’em any comfort, let ’em have it — that’s what I think.’
MacGregor’s pencil hovered in mid-air. ‘But, what was the lab report?’
Dr Nayland sighed and with a gesture of exasperation snatched up one of the letters from the pile he was still clutching. He rattled off a selection of its contents. ‘There! And now, are you any the wiser?’
MacGregor shook his head.
‘Well, if you want the answer in words of one syllable— negative.’
‘Negative?’
‘That’s right. Nobody would ever call him Daddy.’
‘But . . . ’ MacGregor’s mouth dropped in astonishment. ‘There must be some mistake.’
Dr Nayland smiled gently. ‘That’s what he kept saying. No, no mistake. Mind you, there’s a faint chance that with treatment . . . But, frankly, I wouldn’t be too optimistic. I didn’t tell him that, though, We medicos try to paint as cheerful a picture as we can. Even’, he added sardonically, ‘when the poor mutts are evidently in extremis.’
‘Never mind about that for the moment,’ said MacGregor hurriedly. ‘Let’s get this quite clear. As of this moment Perking is incapable of fathering a child?’
‘That is correct.’
‘But, how long has he been like this?’
‘Oh, all his life. Or at least since puberty, that is.’
‘You mean he never, at any time, could get a woman pregnant?’
‘He is totally incapable of it and always has been. That clear enough for you?’
In his bewilderment MacGregor turned to Dover for support and guidance. He should have known better. The Chief Inspector’s unlovely head was sunk low on his chest, his arms were loosely folded over his softly rising and falling stomach. From his lips a faint bubbling sound emerged.
MacGregor glowered at him. Really, this was too much! He stiffened the forefinger of his right hand and mercilessly jabbed it into the fatty layer which covered Dover’s ribs. Dover, the target area being protected by an overcoat which would probably have stopped a bullet, grunted and twitched his moustache. MacGregor, his impatience making him brutal, struck again.
‘Ughoogaahumph!’ slobbered Dover. His huge frame wobbled but did not wake.
MacGregor, now almost beside himself, bellowed down Dover’s ear. ‘Sir!’
Dover opened one eye cautiously. ‘Uh?’
‘Did you hear what Dr Nayland said, sir?’ demanded MacGregor, jaws clenched.
‘Eh?’ Dover blinked, stared round him in a bemused manner and stretched himself stiffly. ‘These benches aren’t half hard!’ He glared belligerently at his sergeant. ‘Course I heard what he said. Why the blazes shouldn’t I?’
‘Well, what do you think about it, sir?’ asked MacGregor maliciously.
Dover scowled. He’d pay the young so-and-so out for this, by God he would! Cheeky devil! Since he could not, for the moment, vent his wrath on MacGregor, Dover turned with unerring instinct to vent it on Dr Nayland. ‘Now, look here, What’s-your-name,’ he growled, ‘just watch what you’re saying! I’ve had people trying to box clever with me before and they’ve lived to regret it. Now, I’m going to give you a second chance. I’m going to forget all you said before so you can start with a clean slate. If you want to add or retract anything, now’s the time to do it.’
Dr Nayland looked at Dover. Then, getting no help from a close scrutiny of that flabby countenance, he looked at MacGregor. ‘What the hell does he want me to say?’ he asked in a despairing whisper.
‘Tell him what you told me about Perking,’ hissed MacGregor, realizing that he’d been
