Women of a Certain Age

‘Jump to it,’ Allan Chisolm looked down the table. ‘We’ve a ton of stuff to get through this morning.’ He eyeballed Brian. ‘Any movement on the Struthers thing, Burnett? Did you get any joy out of the husband?’

‘Not a lot. Denies all knowledge of the medication we found at the scene.’

‘Wife’s gone behind his back, then?’

‘Looks like it.’

‘But why would she do that? I mean, sleeping pills, it’s not as if they’re uncommon, especially in…’

‘Och.’ Duffy stuck his oar in. ‘I’ve told you. Women of a certain age.’

‘Never mind “a certain age”,’ Wood’s face bore a permanently sour expression. ‘Women full stop.’

Brian ducked his head. Amen to that.

Susan glowered at them both. If anyone said ‘a certain age’ one more time she’d give them one in the nuts.

‘She might have had suicidal thoughts. Got hold of the pills. Hidden them while…’

‘Could be,’ Chisolm cut her off. ‘Anything from the hospital?’ he queried.

Brian shuffled the papers in front of him, flipped open a file. ‘Test results just came through this morning.’ He scanned the print. ‘Gist of it is…’ His head shot up as a fire alarm rattled through the building.

‘Christ Almighty!’ Chisolm swore. ‘That’s all we bloody need.’ That morning’s fire drill had completely slipped his mind.

Untidily, the detectives seated around the table rose to their feet and made for the door.

Nice and orderly, guys, if you please,’ their inspector chided. ‘I’ll see you downstairs.’

*

Susan hugged her arms to her chest as she slid back into her seat. When the alarm went off, she hadn’t had time to grab her jacket, and the muster station in the rear podium car park was exposed to a biting wind off the North Sea, even on the balmiest of days. To cap it all, that dickhead Douglas Dunn had made a crude pass at her. Brian Burnett had been bad enough; stuttering and blushing like a teenager. But at least he was decent. A bit of a social misfit, maybe, but she felt sympathy for the guy. Unlike this creep, who she deemed a total wanker.

‘Alright, darling?’ Dunn occupied the chair next to her.

With a scowl, Susan scraped her seat sideways.

‘Don’t be like that,’ Douglas wheedled.

‘Fuck off,’ she hissed, turning her back on him.

Douglas leaned in. ‘You’ll come round.’ He smirked. ‘They all do.’

She whirled to face him. ‘Didn’t you hear me? I said…’

‘Cut it out, you two,’ Chisolm entered the room. He sat down. ‘Burnett, as you were saying before the meeting broke up…’

Brian cleared his throat. ‘Drug screen states meds in the bloodstream weren’t sufficient to put Sheena Struthers in a coma.’

‘Well.’ Duffy sat up. He flexed his shoulder muscles. ‘How about that?’

Chisolm pursed his lips. ‘How indeed?’

‘That would square with the blister pack we…’ Remembering Souter’s cock-up, he corrected himself. ‘That was found in the bedroom. There weren’t that many pills missing, plus they were standard dose: 7.5 mg. She’d have had to take a fair few to put her in that state.’

Chisolm surveyed his squad. ‘That throws up an interesting question: what else could have happened to produce that outcome?’ He looked down the table. ‘Any suggestions?’

‘Alcohol?’ Susan Strachan offered. ‘Could have interacted with the pills.’

‘Good point,’ Chisolm said. ‘Any history there, do we know?’ He looked pointedly at Brian.

‘Not that I’m aware, sir.’ Brian felt colour seep from under his collar. Fuckit! He should have asked. ‘But,’ he looked down at the file again, ‘it says here no alcohol was present.’

Douglas added his tuppence-worth. ‘Another substance, then?’ he opined.

‘Such as?’ Duffy countered. Any opportunity to nail the twat.

‘Oh.’ Douglas ruffled his already artfully disordered hair. ‘Too many variables. I’d have to confer with toxicology before I could give a definitive answer.’

‘As fucking if!’ Duffy fixed him with a withering stare.

‘You two,’ Chisolm barked. ‘Enough. In short, we have only one valid suggestion: that another substance was ingested. And that begs what question?’

Susan broke the ensuing silence: ‘Did Mrs Struthers take an additional substance of her own volition or…’

Anxious to put his oar in, Douglas piped up. ‘Was it administered by another party? There was a half drunk cup of tea, if I’m not mistaken, on the bedside table.’

‘Quite.’ Chisolm acknowledged this contribution with a curt nod. ‘But only one set of fingerprints on the pills.’

Brian attempted to interject. ‘Can I just say…’

Chisolm ignored him. ‘Before we go down that road, there’s something else we have to consider.’

Around the table there were baffled faces. Then: ‘A pre-existing medical condition?’ Susan volunteered.

‘Well done, Strachan.’ Chisolm nodded his approval.

‘There is one more thing, sir,’ Brian coloured. He better get this in before their deliberations went down yet another channel. ‘X-rays are showing an injury to Sheena Struthers’ right arm.’

Chisolm scowled. ‘Why didn’t you raise this before?’

‘I…’ Christ, Brian thought, I’ve screwed up again. ‘Tried,’ he added lamely.

‘Well, now you’ve finally got there,’ Chisolm threw him a pointed look, ‘are we agreed the Struthers case warrants further investigation?’

He was met by murmurs of assent.

‘To summarise, we’ve a number of hypotheses: drugs – what we’ve found plus question mark something else – were self-administered, whether by accident or design; drugs were administered by another party; injury was accidental, or not. As to the actions, someone had better have another chat with Mrs Laird. No, not you, Burnett.’ He eyeballed Brian. ‘You’ve got form there. I’ll do it myself. Haul Gordon Struthers back in here. Sounds like he’s been less than forthcoming. If he’s hiding something, we need to find out what. Strachan, I want you up at ARI. Establish the latest on Sheena Struthers’ condition. And no visitors, not that ITU is likely to admit anyone. Well, nobody but the husband. We can’t stop him, I suppose. But I don’t want anyone else near her until we get a statement. And Duffy, ask their lab if they’re willing to run more tests.’