Wallace Maitland slumped into the chair across from his brother-in-law. Hambley didn’t acknowledge his presence; he kept writing. Maitland spoke, his voice husky with fear. ‘Have the police been back?’
Hambley made his signature with a flourish at the bottom of the page and looked up. ‘They haven’t and they won’t unless somebody tells them what you did.’
Maitland maintained his innocence. ‘I didn’t do anything. How can you believe I did?’
Hambley’s tone was brittle. ‘Easy. You’re a functioning alcoholic who doesn’t function as well as you used to. Most of the time you don’t know what you’re doing. Law was right. You shouldn’t be operating. Take a holiday. I’ll find somebody to cover for you. That’s an order. By the end of today I want you off the premises.’
He lifted another letter from his in-tray and scanned it as if the conversation was over.
Maitland pleaded. ‘I don’t need a holiday.’
Hambley’s response was harsh. ‘Then take a handful of Xanax. But do it far away from Francis Fallon, will you? You’ve caused this hospital enough trouble.’
‘Look. Jimmy. I’m sorry for what’s happened but… you can’t seriously think I killed him.’
The director put the pen down. ‘You’re forgetting, Wallace, I was there. I saw you out of your head and covered in blood.’
He stood up and came round the desk. ‘Let’s be clear. Shona’s the only reason you still have a job. We both know you botched the op. And Gavin Law knew. That’s why he complained.’
‘It was a judgement call. How many times?’
Hambley towered over him. ‘Stop lying. You fucked up and caused a disaster – for the Coopers and for the hospital. I should’ve let you get what was coming to you instead of brushing it under the carpet. Law’s dead and you killed him!’
James Hambley lifted a quivering finger and pointed it at the other man. ‘Here’s what’s going to happen. You’ll take extended leave. In a couple of months you’ll tender your resignation on doctor’s orders. Stress. In the meantime I’ll keep doing what I’ve been doing. Cleaning up your mess. Now, get out of my sight.’
At the door, Maitland turned. ‘What’ll I tell Shona?’
Hambley bared his teeth. ‘Tell her any bloody thing. I couldn’t care less.’
When Maitland had gone, Hambley sat down; he was shaking with anger. Wallace was a pathetic fool and always had been, but he couldn’t avoid responsibility for letting it get as bad as this. Unlike Law, Colin McMillan wasn’t present when Maitland bungled the operation and left Margaret Cooper a brain-damaged paraplegic. His letter questioned Wallace’s ability and cited instances of alleged incompetence. Those charges hadn’t been pursued because of the doubts that emerged over McMillan’s state of mind. In a matter of months his life had come apart and, in due course, it seemed likely Francis Fallon would terminate his contract on medical grounds.
To lose three surgeons in such a short space of time – whatever the reasons – didn’t reflect well on Hambley or the hospital. Eventually Law’s body would be recovered from wherever Wallace had hidden it. McMillan was unstable and Maitland was slowly unravelling; he had to go. Hambley was in the middle of a shit storm. Regrets wouldn’t help. All he could do was carry on.
The buzzer on his desk sounded. His PA said, ‘There’s somebody to see you, Mr Hambley. I’ve told him he needs an appointment but he insists.
‘Who is it?’
‘A Mr Cameron.’
Hambley didn’t recognise the name and was about to refuse to see him. The next words changed his mind.
‘He’s a private investigator.’
The director straightened his tie and pulled himself together.
‘Give me five minutes then send him in.’
I’d assumed – wrongly as it turned out – getting to speak to Gavin Law’s boss would be difficult. The woman on reception was anything but the loyal Rottweiler I’d anticipated: mid-thirties, attractive and perfectly civil even when she told me it wouldn’t be possible to see the director without an appointment. Once upon a time a younger keener me had had cards printed: a thousand of them. There couldn’t be more than nine hundred and ninety-seven of them left.
Nine hundred and ninety-six, as of today.
She read the words, eyes moving between them and me.
Charlie Cameron
Private Investigator
It must have impressed because she asked me to take a seat. Five minutes later I was in. The man behind the desk rose and shook my hand. Unlike the receptionist, he was everything I expected: three-piece suit; blue and white striped shirt and a serious face. Seeing him unannounced shouldn’t have been so easy, yet it had been. I wondered why.
‘Take a seat, Mr…’
‘Cameron.’
‘I don’t get many of you people in my office. What can I do for you?’
Friendly and condescending at the same time. A rare skill set.
‘I’m representing Caroline Law, Gavin Law’s sister. Gavin hasn’t been heard of since the thirty-first of December. Ms Law spoke to one of your people and was told he wasn’t here. Can you add anything to that?’
‘Unfortunately, no. Francis Fallon has a duty to protect the privacy of our employees. Without written permission from Mr Law, I can’t discuss his circumstances. It would be wrong, though I’d be obliged if you would pass on our support to Ms Law.’
His fingers flicked through the in-tray until he found what he was looking for. He placed it in front of him and studied it. I was forgotten; he had dismissed me.
‘Can I assume those circumstances include an allegation of rape?’
Hambley was an old hand. He didn’t react. ‘You’re free to assume anything you wish, Mr Cameron.’
It had taken less than a minute to hit a brick wall. As far as the director was concerned, the meeting was already over. I ignored the signs and soldiered on.
‘Ms Law is worried about her brother. On top of everything else this allegation has come as a shock. She’d like to know who made it.’
He spread his arms in mock powerlessness – a master class in fakery. ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mr…’
‘Cameron.’
‘It may go further – I couldn’t say – but at this stage it’s purely an internal matter.’
‘The police aren’t involved?’
‘Not yet. Whether that changes is a decision for the victim.’
‘Alleged victim, surely?’
Annoyance shadowed his eyes. He got it under control and quoted the hospital’s induction manual at me. Payback for daring to correct him.
‘Confidentiality is the cornerstone of employer/employee relations. Everyone who works at Francis Fallon is treated fairly and equally.’
There was plenty more where that came from and he’d prove it if I carried on. He paused and put me in my place with a final flash of sarcasm. ‘Inconvenient though it may be.’
Hambley picked up a pen and gave his attention to his papers. He’d owned the meeting from the beginning. He wasn’t obligated to tell me a damned thing and hadn’t. I was leaving with exactly nothing. At the door I gave it one last try.
‘Where am I likely to find the surgeon Mr Law made his complaint about?’
Hambley stopped writing; the pen froze between his fingers and his eyes locked on mine. ‘Mr Maitland is on leave.’
‘Is that his idea or the hospital’s?’
His lips pressed together; he was rattled. But give him his due – he recovered to throw another insult at me. ‘You’re a slow learner, Mr Cameron. Confidentiality is…’
I held up my hand. ‘Yeah… the cornerstone of blah blah blah… you said.’
For most of the time he’d been in control, bossing the meeting from behind the force-field that came with authority. Until the end, when he had carelessly let slip something I hadn’t known – the name of the man at the centre of Law’s complaint.
Maitland.
In the lift on the way to the ground floor, my mobile rang. Caroline Law sounded out of breath. Her excitement bubbled down the line.
‘I’ve remembered the name of the woman Gavin was supposed to be bringing to the party. It just came to me. Alile. From Malawi. She works at Francis Fallon.’
Good timing.
The hospital shop didn’t have the best selection of flowers I’d ever seen but what they had would do. I bought a bunch of red and white carnations and watched an assistant with Sandra on her nametag wrap them.
‘These are nice. I hope she likes them.’
‘I hope so, too. A nurse was particularly kind to my wife. Flowers are the least I can do. Alile. Do you know her?’
‘I don’t. Sorry. Try Tracy on reception. She knows everybody.’
Tracy’s reputation was well-earned.
I said, ‘I’m looking for a nurse called, Alile. Sandra in the shop says you might know her.’
‘Alile. Of course. From Malawi.’
‘Any idea where she’ll be?’
The receptionist checked her watch. ‘Normally has lunch about now.’
‘So the staff canteen?’
She made a face. ‘This is a great place to have a baby. It isn’t a great place to have something to eat. Unless you’re a patient, that is. Most of us avoid the canteen. Don’t know her shifts, but if she’s on duty, you might catch Alile in the tearoom. Out the door and turn right. Can’t miss it.’
I thanked her. Hospitals were one of the few places where a man carrying flowers wasn’t an unusual sight. Nobody gave me a second glance. In the tearoom, eight or nine nurses sat in groups of twos and threes, chatting. The only black woman was at a table by herself, reading a book, and she had to be fifty. Not Gavin Law’s type.
I got myself a coffee and waited. Five minutes later, a vision – black and beautiful – walked in and waved over to somebody. Law couldn’t have been thinking straight to cancel on this. Caroline’s concern seemed justified. Alile was slim and almost as tall as me. Shoulder-length hair framed soft features and smooth skin and when she reached for a tray, her uniform stretched against the perfect body underneath. I joined the queue and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned. Brown eyes smiled at me. Close up she was flawless.
‘Excuse me. Alile?’
‘… Yes.’
‘Could we talk? I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.’
‘Questions?’
‘Do you mind if we sit down?’
‘Questions about what?’
We were at an empty table near the door before I answered.
‘Gavin Law. I’m working for his family. His sister told me you and Gavin are friends.’
She seemed puzzled. ‘No. To tell the truth we hardly know each other. ’
‘Weren’t you supposed to go to a party with him?’
‘At New Year. That doesn’t make us friends. And anyway, he cancelled.’
‘Did he give a reason?’
She shrugged and managed to make it graceful. ‘I got a message. He said he was tired.’
‘Had you been out with him before?’
‘The party would’ve been the first time.’
‘Has he contacted you since?’
Alile looked me up and down. ‘Who are you again?’
‘Cameron. Charlie Cameron. Private investigator.’
I handed her my card. Nine hundred and ninety-five. At this rate I’d have to order a new print-run. She wasn’t persuaded.
‘I’m not sure I should be speaking to you. What’s happened to Gavin?’
‘He hasn’t been heard of since Hogmanay. And if I can’t find him the police will get involved. So it’s really me or them, Alile.’
It wasn’t intended to sound like a threat, though it did. Her reaction told me I was losing her. She handed the card back and those soft features hardened against me.
‘Look,’ she said, ‘you’d do better to talk to somebody who worked with him. There isn’t anything I can tell you. We were practically strangers.’
‘Alile, his sister is out of her mind with worry. She hasn’t spoken to him since New Year’s Eve. She’s convinced something’s wrong. Did you know he’d been suspended?’
Her reply was unexpected. ‘No, though it doesn’t surprise me.’
‘Why?’
‘Mr McMillan had already been suspended for speaking out. Terrible for him with what he’s been through.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘His wife killed herself. He was the one who found her. That didn’t stop them going after him.’
‘What’s his first name?’
‘Colin. He made the same mistake as Gavin and complained about the director’s brother-in-law.’
‘Maitland?’
‘Yes. Blowing the whistle isn’t done. There was a lot of gossip. People took sides. That was the reason I agreed to go out with Gavin, in spite of his reputation. I thought it was brave.’
‘His reputation?’
Alile glanced away. ‘A couple of the girls advised me to steer clear.’
I let her tell it her way.
‘Said he was a chancer. Famous for it.’
It was strange to hear a woman from Malawi use a Glasgow expression.
‘Alile, Gavin wasn’t suspended by Francis Fallon as a reprisal. An accusation’s been made by someone from here. Of rape.’ I studied her lovely face and waited for it to sink in. ‘You hadn’t heard?’
She didn’t respond; she had questions of her own. ‘When is this supposed to have happened?’
‘Can’t tell you that.’
Because I didn’t know.
‘Who says he did it?’
‘Can’t tell you that, either.’
Alile struggled to come to terms with the news. Finally, she made up her mind and slowly shook her head. ‘I don’t believe it.’
‘You seem very sure considering how little you know Gavin Law.’
‘That’s not what I mean. He wasn’t exactly popular, although some of the staff thought he was right. But this. As I said, hospitals run on gossip. I would’ve heard.’
She had a point.
‘Maybe. Maybe not.’
Alile got up. I held the card out a second time. She took it.
‘You may remember something. If you do, call me.’
She didn’t say she would but she didn’t say she wouldn’t.
Result.