Either the room had been given an injection of light or the ailing detective was becoming paler as the night wore on. A fan had been drafted into the room to help with Shinji’s fevers, the Get-Well cards became victims, gunned down by the breezes fired from the spinning blades.
The patient was turned away from Philippa, motionless.
She tiptoed towards him. ‘Shinji?’ she whispered.
She neared the patient and saw that his eyes were closed. He was breathing in a shallow manner.
‘Shinji?’ she said again, then touched his shoulder.
He stirred and rubbed his eyes. ‘Sorry, Philippa. I must have –’
‘Don’t worry. Are you okay?’
Shinji Nyarko nodded and motioned for her to close the door. ‘I’m fine, sorry I must –’
‘Please, don’t apologise. You can stop this anytime; you have no obligation to do this for me; to help.’
‘I know,’ he said and he touched her hand gently.
‘Effy contacted me; she said you wanted to show me something?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ he replied. He sat up straight with Philippa’s assistance. ‘I found something, from the photos that you took. I’ll just load them up.’
‘Did Justin –’
‘He didn’t stay with me for long.’
In the corner of her eye, Philippa noticed the vomit bowl had been filled up with more red sputum. At some point, she might have to check his blood count. Maybe that was why he was tiring.
‘Did anything happen; anything that could be construed as a test?’ he asked keenly.
‘Nothing at all,’ Philippa replied. ‘But how are you feeling?’
‘I feel… less shivery,’ he answered. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’ve recruited a friend.’
‘Recruited?’
‘The anaesthetist, Rob – he was in theatres since the start of the shift, it was impossible for him to give Jonathan that lethal dose of potassium.’
‘Are you not worried –’
‘About the killer finding out? No, we were out in the portacabins, out of sight and out of hearing from anyone.’
‘I was meaning to say, are you not worried that there could be more than one person involved, and he might be one of the parties?’
Philippa had not thought of that. ‘I took on board your advice to exclude people I was sure were innocent. I’m sure Rob is innocent.’
‘Can he help us?’
‘He’s going to check the two six wards – Surgical Six and Medical Six. Then I’ll meet him at three o’clock and be ready for the third or second test, whichever it is and if it ever comes.’
Shinji seemed to approve of the plan.
‘What did you want to show me?’
‘See what you think of this,’ he whispered. He spun his laptop round for her to see.
She edged forwards to get a better view. ‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know; I was hoping you would?’
‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘Is it anything medical?’
Philippa shook her head. ‘Nothing I recognise.’
‘Do you recall seeing this at the bedside?’
‘Not during the cardiac arrest, no. Could it merely be a random mark? The bedside cabinet for example took this bit out of the wall here,’ she said, directing the detective to the relevant spot.
‘Unlikely,’ Shinji replied. ‘Have a look at some of these other photos that you took where the light isn’t focused on the mark.’
‘It’s not there anymore.’
‘Correct, it disappears.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Where the light is scanty, the symbol doesn’t show through. Where the light is directly shining on it, the symbol appears. I think it’s a form of security ink that only shows up when illuminated. I think it was drawn purposefully – to put it plainly, it’s a clue.’
Shinji zoomed in again onto a slice of wall close to several aligned electrical sockets, where a peculiar symbol was printed, one best described as an upside-down T with a small cross at the bottom left corner.
‘In Maths, that sign means perpendicular to, doesn’t it?’ fathomed Philippa.
‘Unless the killer was in a rush and made an error, it’s not exactly straight. Could it be inverted unintentionally; did the killer mean for this to be the letter T?’
‘T and x. In the medical world, it can be an abbreviation for transplant but that wouldn’t make any sense here.’
‘Did you manage to find out any information on Eric Pails? That was the other possibility I could think of – that maybe the symbol belonged to a gang of some sort but when I ran some checks, it didn’t match.’
‘It’s not Eric Pails.’
‘Are you certain?’
‘Rob knew Eric Pails enough to be sure he wasn’t sufficiently sophisticated to carry out everything that’s happened tonight.’
The pair were interrupted by the door and Effy’s entrance with a jug of water masked the sound of Philippa’s bleep.
‘Mr Nyarko, you asked for some earlier? So sorry, I only just remembered.’
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘Effy, could you answer this bleep for me and ask them to leave a message or call back in five, please?’
‘Sure.’
Philippa gave her the number and watched the nurse leave the cubicle.
‘I’ve told her five times to call me Shinji, she still doesn’t,’ he said gently. ‘There was something else,’ he added suddenly, ‘the scarf – it’s improbable it belonged to Jonathan Wickshaw – it’s a lady’s scarf…. and if you smell it…’
Philippa leaned forwards and buried her nose in the fabric. It was true: the essence of feminine perfume lingered. ‘And Eric Pails could barely afford a decent mobile phone, let alone a cashmere scarf such as this one,’ she said. ‘Rob did mention another person, by chance.’
Shinji raised an eyebrow but his face was tiring and he could barely lift it higher than a centimetre or so.
‘A girl who died in this hospital. Somebody called Melissa Dowd, seven or eight years ago.’
‘A death in a hospital… why is this patient so particular?’
‘She wasn’t a patient, she was a staff member, a doctor and she died in the church next to this building.’
‘I see. Is it relevant? Why did he mention her?’
‘I think Rob was trying to tease me with the ghost story. He said that this doctor committed suicide from the stress working here, but what made me take note, was that she hung herself.’
She could see the light-bulb flashing inside the detective’s head.
‘The video on the link…’
‘Exactly. I wonder if there is a connection?’
‘You say she was found in a church? The hanging lady in the video, she could have been in a church,’ Shinji suggested.
‘My sentiments exactly.’
He brought up the video once more.
No number of views was going to make the video less hideous.
‘Those windows…’
‘They do look like church windows,’ Philippa muttered.
‘What was the name again? Let me see if I can find out more information about her.’
‘Melissa Dowd.’
‘And you think the scarf belonged to her?’
Philippa shrugged. ‘Dr Steer, the consultant might know. She’s on-call overnight but I’m not in her best books and calling her now would be unforgivable.’
Another disturbance.
‘Doctor?’ Effy said poking her head round nervously. ‘It was your SHO, he said his name was Karen but he definitely sounded like a man? He asked you to call back when you have a moment.’
‘Karan,’ Philippa corrected tentatively. ‘Yes thanks. I’ll come out and call him now. I’ll be right back Shinji,’ she said, following the wide-eyed nurse to the station.
He must have been waiting with the phone in his hand. ‘Hi Philippa, I’ve consented that patient for the ascitic drain. All the equipment is ready. Are you free to come and supervise me?’
She checked her watch. There was still some time before the next test was due. If she was not going to fulfil Dr Steer’s lumbar puncture request, she could at least get this drain done.
‘Yes sure,’ she replied. ‘Where is the patient?’
‘Still in A&E for now.’
Then she felt a tap on her shoulder.
Gemma Oliver had entered the unit cutting through a neighbouring ward with doors clearly labelled: Please do not use as a thoroughfare.
‘Everything okay?’
Philippa replied with an okay sign before noting the patient’s exact location. ‘I’ll come soon,’ she told Karan, ‘but whilst you’re on the phone, shall we discuss the patients you’ve seen since the one o’clock meeting quickly?’
‘Hello Effy, how are we doing on here tonight?’ Gemma asked in the background.
‘Staffing-wise, we have one and a half nurses,’ Effy reported, although on the Chartwell Unit there were only twelve patients – half the number Maria faced on Surgical Four.
‘One and a half?’ Gemma asked.
Philippa didn’t quite understand either. Maybe she had heard incorrectly with Effy’s strong Greek accent. Karan was telling her about the man with urinary tract infection. Did he say the patient was well or unwell?
‘Sarah’s got tonsillitis so she’s masking up for every patient. She’s my half-nurse,’ Effy explained.
‘Wilkinson? Is she working tonight as well? I thought she was –’
‘This is her second night of three.’
‘Jesus, poor thing. I’ll try and get cover for her last shift,’ said Gemma but her tone suggested she was cautiously optimistic.
The twisted irony was there were very few organisations that covered sickness or respected its staff’s welfare worse than the National Health Service. The culture had given birth to a work-through-sickness attitude or else your already stretched colleagues would become overstretched and to the more empathetic of staff, guilt was no remedy for poor health.
‘Anyway, I was just checking on acuity levels.’
‘We have two sick patients – Bed D, My Nyarko who this doctor is dealing with and Bed F, Mrs Patterson who Justin, the F1 reviewed earlier but is fine now. How are you?’
Mrs Patterson… Philippa made a mental note. If she had a moment, she should check on her too.
‘Busy as usual but thanks for asking,’ Gemma replied, planting her folder on top of the nurses’ station. ‘Hence, it’s taken me until now to touch base with you, but I know you guys are good on this unit. Call me if I can help too; we’ve already had two deaths tonight so I’m hoping we won’t get anymore.’
Karan had moved onto his next patient but his words collided with a brick wall.
What?
Had she heard correctly?
Philippa froze.
The SNP’s words struck her like a horde of rampaging trucks.
What did Gemma mean?
Two deaths? Two?
‘Karan, that’s fine. You continue with the Take. We might need to postpone the drain – something has come up.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to just crack on with it?’
Gemma Oliver was on the move again and was about to leave the ward.
‘No, just postpone it. We’ll put it in together later and you can tell me about the rest of the patients you’ve clerked then.’
She thought she heard the SHO sigh before replacing the handset.
‘Wait, Gemma!’ She jogged over to her colleague. ‘You said two deaths. What did you mean? Who else aside from Jonathan Wickshaw has died tonight?’
‘Oh, I thought you knew… sorry.’
Philippa Haven went clammy and her chest was tightening. ‘No, I wasn’t aware. Which patient?’
‘A ninety-two-year-old lady by the name of Mary Surrey. She was admitted tonight, I think it was you who saw her in A&E.’
Every few days... 