“Who was that?” he asked.
“Vic Chakravarty.”
“The neuro-consultant?”
“That’s right. You’ve heard of him?” said Lockridge. He sounded genuinely interested.
“Only obliquely,” said Pascoe, smiling inwardly at the hidden aptness of the adverb.
For a second Lockridge looked as if he might be about to say something else then changed his mind. “So what do you want with me, Inspector?”
“I’m looking into Pal Maciver’s death,” began Pascoe, ignoring the demotion. “And I was wondering…”
“Sorry, I really can’t talk about Mr Maciver,” interrupted Lockridge.
“Why on earth not?” said Pascoe, surprised.
“Doctor-patient, you know.”
“But that’s absurd. I recall you said yourself he was no longer your patient, so your only relationship with him is as the attending police doctor. So if you can’t talk to me, how do you justify taking your fee?”
“Yes, of course, sorry. Different hats, it’s easy to get confused. But I did put everything I observed into my report,” said Lockridge, on the defensive.
“And a very good report it was,” said Pascoe. “Why did he cease to be your patient, by the way? His choice, or yours?”
“His. He was a private patient, you understand, so the relationship was pretty flexible, none of all that NHS form-filling stuff. Didn’t see a lot of him professionally anyway, so when he announced he thought he’d take his business elsewhere for a change, it was no big deal. In fact we used to see each other more often socially, and I think maybe he liked to keep the two areas separate. A lot of people do, you know.”
“But not Mrs Maciver?”
“No. Didn’t bother her. She stayed. What’s all this got to do with anything, Pascoe?”
“Nothing really, except it’s Mrs Maciver I wanted to ask about. I need to talk to her soon and I was wondering whether you felt she was in a fit state to answer a few routine questions.”
“Oh yes, I should think so. Still a bit upset, naturally, so I’d go easy. But she’s a strong personality, very resilient. How’s the investigation going? Any sign of a note, anything like that?”
“A suicide note, you mean? Not as such,” said Pascoe, interested that after his initial reluctance the doctor now seemed happy to stand and chat.
“Not as such? But there was something on the desk, I recall. A book.”
“Yes, your memory is good, there was a book.”
“And people are saying that everything was done in pretty much the same way as his father killed himself ten years ago. Any truth in that?”
“Perhaps. What’s your interest, Doctor?”
“Just professional. It all suggests a severely disturbed state of mind, don’t you think? Very severely disturbed.”
“I suppose it does. But I imagine some degree of mental disturbance is in fact the norm in most suicides,” said Pascoe. “Thank you for your help.”
He moved away. At the end of the corridor he glanced back. Lockridge was still standing where he’d left him. It occurred to Pascoe that while he didn’t look suicidal, he certainly gave the impression that his own state of mind was far from undisturbed.
On arrival at the maternity unit, he was directed away from the ward to a private room. Nice going for a PE teacher’s wife, he thought. Though of course she did have money of her own. And well-heeled friends, one of whom was sitting at the bedside with a baby crooked in either arm.
“Good morning, Mr Pascoe,” said Kay Kafka. “How nice of you to come. But you were in at the birth, so to speak. Aren’t they just gorgeous?”
Her words were unambiguously friendly and spoken with a smile, but he felt warned. Start hassling Helen and you’ll have me to contend with.
He poked a finger in turn at the sleeping babies and made token cooing noises. He tended to be rather satirical about what he called baby-gush in order to conceal a powerful impulse to pick small children up and hold them tight and possibly burst into tears at the thought of the long haul that lay ahead for them and their parents.
“How are you, Mrs Kafka? Mrs Dunn?” he said, seating himself on the other side of the bed.
In fact the woman in the bed looked a lot better than her visitor. Sitting upright against plumped-up pillows and surrounded by a scatter of glossy magazines, expensive chocolate boxes and exotic fruit baskets as well as enough flowers to keep Eliza Doolittle going for a fortnight, she could have sat for an allegorical portrait of bountiful summer. Kay Kafka by contrast was definitely autumnal, and not the mellow fruitful end either but the frost-on-lawn, burning-of-leaves, drawing-down-of-blinds end. Yet in her way she was just as lovely as the radiant English girl; the lily and the rose, the moon and the sun.
Pascoe shook the fancy from his head and turned to the business at hand.
“Mrs Dunn,” he said. “I’m sorry to trouble you with reminders of family sorrow at such a joyful time, but I’m sure you’ll understand how important it is for the coroner to have as full a picture as possible of what it was that led up to the other night’s tragedy. Of course, I’ll quite understand if you don’t feel up to talking just yet and would prefer to wait till you got home. When will that be, by the way? I bet you can’t wait.”
In fact it wasn’t a bet he’d have cared to risk loose change on. He had a feeling that the sense of contentment radiating out of Helen Dunn had more to do with lying at her ease, the centre of attention, receiving gifts and congratulation, than with the prospect of getting home to start the long haul of parenthood.
She said, “Oh that will be a day or two yet of course I can’t wait but I’ve got to think of Jase he’s got his work and I don’t want him worrying about me while he’s at school.”
“He’s back at school already?” said Pascoe, mentally punctuating. “I thought these days you got paternity leave.”
“I don’t know I’m sure they’ll be very helpful the headmaster’s really nice but today there’s a really important match I think it’s the inter-house final or something and Jase is the only one who’s got a proper referee’s qualification and they need them nowadays otherwise if something goes wrong they could sue the school. Anyway Mr Pascoe please don’t be afraid to ask your questions though I’m not sure how I can help you Pal and I were never close I can’t recall the last time I actually saw him though since he started playing squash with Jase we sometimes spoke on the phone and I said to Jase that maybe we should have him and Sue-Lynn over to dinner sometime he was my brother after all and it was silly that we should let that old stuff stay between us after all this time but Jase said OK sometime soon but let’s not rush things and Kay seemed to agree with him didn’t you Kay…?”
Slightly shell-shocked by this verbal barrage, Pascoe glanced at Kay, who said, “You’re quite right, dear, it’s never wise to rush things. Now I’m going to have to leave you two to your little chat. I hate to abandon these two darlings, but Tony’s flying to the States first thing tomorrow so he’s staying at Heathrow tonight and I promised to drive him to the station this afternoon.”
“To the States? Oh isn’t he lucky? I just love it over there!” exclaimed Helen.
Her stepmother gave her a smile in which Pascoe thought he detected more than a touch of wry irony, then said, “Don’t tire her out, Mr Pascoe. She’s going to need to get back to full strength pretty quickly to deal with this gorgeous pair. But I’m sure your business won’t keep you long.”
She’s wondering why I’m still on the case at all, thought Pascoe. Fat Andy assured her yesterday this wasn’t a CID investigation and he’s not had time to bring her up to speed yet. She’ll probably be on her mobile to him before she gets to her car.
She placed the twins gently in their bedside cot, breathed a kiss over each in turn, then stooped to plant a firmer kiss on Helen’s forehead.
“Goodbye, dear,” she said. “See you later.”
He watched her move out of the room with athletic grace then turned his attention back to Helen, who was checking her hair and make-up in a hand mirror. Was she really as air-headed as she appeared? Kay seemed genuinely fond of her and the American didn’t strike him as a woman who’d have much time for the intellectually challenged.
Whatever, close questioning of Helen wasn’t really an option, he decided. Simplest thing was to turn her on
