You Couldn’t Make It Up

‘Christ.’ Wilma’s eyes were out on stalks. ‘You couldn’t make it up.’

‘What?’ Maggie demanded.

‘Your pal Sheena Struthers horizontal up at ARI. And now yer wee man Brannigan’s gone and joined her.’

‘I know.’ Maggie made a face. ‘It’s unfortunate, to say the least.’

‘Unfortunate?’ Wilma echoed. ‘It’s a fuckin cock-up!’

Maggie blushed scarlet. ‘The way you’re talking, you make it sound like I put them there deliberately.’

‘Well…’ Coy look.

‘Wil-ma.’

‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m taking the piss.’

Maggie’s mouth turned down. ‘Well, don’t.’

‘Then there’s your pal, Ros.’ Wilma pressed on, undaunted. ‘All it’ll take is for that husband of hers to give her a duffing up, and the three of them will be able to throw a party.’

‘Pack it in,’ Maggie snapped. ‘I’m not in the mood.’ In her shock at hearing of Bobby Brannigan’s assault, she’d forgotten about Ros.

She was loth to admit there was more than a grain of truth behind Wilma’s banter. If Maggie had made a fist of Sheena Struthers’ case…if she hadn’t rattled Brannigan’s cage…possibly none of this would have happened.

‘Lighten up!’ Playfully, Wilma chucked Maggie under the chin. ‘All I’m saying is it’s getting like Emergency Ward 10 up there. I thought last year’s shenanigans in Seaton were hairy enough: thon student dead in the kirkyard, that head-banger in the high-rises. And them kids, the size of them, in the middle of it. But if Bobby pops his clogs, and your Struthers dame doesn’t make it, that’s another two fatalities to land at your door.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Some going!’

Maggie pursed her lips. ‘They’re not fatalities.’

‘Near as,’ Wilma joshed. ‘You’re some woman, Maggie Laird.’

Maggie sighed. ‘I wish. Truth is, though, you’re right. It is a total mess.’

‘You could say.’

‘Let’s face it, Wilma. Me with my casualties, you with your marital problems, together we’ve made a dog’s breakfast of this private detective business.’

Crestfallen look. ‘And we thought we were doing so well.’

What are we going to do now?’

‘Dunno.’

Maggie sighed. ‘Maybe my first instincts were right and I’m really not cut out for this sort of thing.’

‘That’s bollocks.’ Wilma elbowed her. ‘And you know it.’

‘I don’t agree.’

‘You still obsessing about that head-case, Sheena?’

Maggie stiffened. ‘That’s below the belt.’

‘Wasn’t meant.’

‘Still, it’s true: there are two gravely ill patients up at ARI and both on my account.’

‘Oh, come on,’ Wilma began.

‘Hear me out.’ Maggie stopped her going further. ‘Nobody can point the finger where Brannigan’s concerned. That man’s a bad lot. He could have been attacked for any number of reasons. But Sheena Struthers is another matter entirely. Her present circumstances are almost certainly down to my incompetence.’

‘Don’t beat yourself up.’ Wilma stepped in. ‘It could have happened to anyone.’

Maggie rounded on her. ‘Wouldn’t have happened to you.’

‘No,’ Wilma conceded.

‘More than that, you warned me off, Wilma. More than once, if I recall.’

‘Aye.’ She nodded, grim-faced. ‘But that was then. Now it’s a whole new ball game.’

‘One I’m determined to tackle.’

‘I’ll give you a hand,’ Wilma volunteered.

‘You will not.’ Defiant look. ‘You’ve done your bit. Now it’s my turn. I’ve had no joy getting information out of Queen Street or Brian, so the only thing left is go up to the infirmary and find out for myself.’

‘But,’ Wilma protested, ‘you can’t just bloody swan in.’

Maggie’s hackles rose. ‘You did.’

‘That’s different. I’m a member of staff.’

‘Not on ITU.’

‘No, but still wearing the uniform.’

‘I’ll say I’m Sheena’s sister.’

‘Word’s going around,’ Wilma insisted, ‘it’s only the husband allowed to visit.’

‘Sheena Struthers’ room isn’t under lock and key, is it?’ Petulant voice.

‘No, but she’ll still be under close observation.’

‘Well,’ Maggie said stubbornly, ‘I’ll think of something.’

‘There’s been a detective at the bedside and all.’ Wilma’s face was filled with concern. ‘I’m telling you, there’s no way you’ll get near.’

Maggie set her jaw. ‘Just you watch me!’

‘I’m not doubting you,’ Wilma huffed. ‘It’s only…I don’t want you to make a fool of yourself. Far less,’ she pulled a scary face, ‘get yourself arrested.’

‘And I’m telling you, there’s nothing like a determined woman. I need to get in there, Wilma Harcus. And get in there I will.’

‘Well…’ Hands on hips, Wilma squared up to her. ‘It’s your funeral!’