9

My brain had developed an awful habit of drifting into thoughts of Lockie rather than the investigation of his wife’s death. The fact that I had to make a concerted effort to change my focus, to draw a clear line between my personal and professional involvement, annoyed the crap out of me. Maybe some people weren’t cut out for divorcing the two. Maybe some things were too deep to ignore.

Direct action, however, might get me back in line, or at least improve my mood. With this thought I pulled up outside the Riverside Health Centre in Mataura, where I hoped Gaby’s doctor might be able to shed some light on her supposedly precarious state of mind and I might learn how she got hold of those sleeping tablets.

I opened the door and was greeted by a large hexagonal tank containing several frilly goldfish. Bubbles of air drifted upwards and detoured around limbs of the artificially bright green seaweed. There was the obligatory blackboard and chalk and basket of wooden toys, currently being marauded upon by unmistakably twin boys. They matched even down to the trails of mucus working their way from nostril to mouth. I shuddered, smiled at them, and then at their mother, who reddened and ferreted around in her handbag – presumably, for some tissues. Apparently, I had been promoted to Sergeant of the Snot Police. With the efficiency gained from lots of practice, she dealt with the two faces before they could mount a protest.

Unusually for a rural-type practice, three doctors worked out of these rooms. That it was one of two medical centres in the town was even more remarkable. Perhaps the lifestyle was more attractive here than in other regions: usually, the low pay, long hours and being continuously on call made working as a rural GP an unattractive proposition. Hell, I’d even heard of some small towns throwing parties because their doctor had chosen to stay. Gaby Knowes’ GP hailed originally from Britain. He and his wife had fallen victim to the charms of New Zealand while holidaying here and, like many smitten in the same way, had decided to make it their permanent home. I had been informed by many reliable sources that he was a charming and pleasant family man who fitted in well with the community.

Blessed as I am with the constitution of an ox, I hadn’t seen Dr Tony Walden in a professional capacity before – or socially for that matter. My own GP, also in the practice, was hardly getting rich on the proceeds of my visits. The only thing I ever needed was a prescription for the Pill, and even that wasn’t needed, strictly speaking.

Francine was at work behind the reception desk. She was always dependable as a sympathetic ear, and as circulation manager of the local rumour mill.

‘You’ll be here about Gaby Knowes, won’t you?’ she said. ‘Is it right, what they’re saying, that she killed herself?’ She’d leaned forwards to prevent anyone overhearing, her expression almost eager.

‘We’re still investigating the case, so you know I can’t comment on that. That is why I’m here, though. I need to talk to Dr Walden. Can you slot me in?’

‘Course I can, Sam. I’ll pop you in next. It’s fairly quiet this morning. He shouldn’t be too long.’

I sat down on a chair opposite the now clean-faced Symes twins. Adelle and John had decided to have a fourth child and had been rather surprised to find out there had been a buy-one-get-one-free special on that week and they’d be needing something akin to a bus to transport the expanded family. By now, the shock had worn off, but the twins did have a reputation for stretching their parents’ patience, as well as their budget. They were a study in slow motion as they dragged their collective feet after their mother on the way to Dr Brightman’s room.

After the emotional turmoil of the morning’s visit with Lockie, I now felt sober and more together, but I was going to have to keep tempering my reactions and concentrate on doing my job – finding Gaby’s killer. Interesting how the ‘killer’ word had snuck its way into my train of thought, how my mind had gone from having suspicions to deciding it was murder.

‘Hmmmm,’ I said. I hadn’t intended for it to be out loud.

‘Something else, Sam?’ Francine asked.

‘Ah, no … Actually, yes, there is something else you can help me with. I’ll need to see Dr Arnold today as well. Can you get me in with him?’ Dr Arnold, not Dr Walden, had written Gaby’s prescription for Hypnovel. There could have been many reasons for that, but I wanted to see Dr Arnold regardless.

‘He’s not in until one o’clock. Do you want me to book a time?’

I was about to reply when Tony Walden emerged from the hallway, ushering along a rather frail-looking Mrs Ellison, who made painfully slow progress with the shuffle and lift required to animate her walking frame. I wished someone would upgrade her to one with wheels and a seat. Dr Walden was a slight man of medium height, with short, wavy brown hair and pleasant if not handsome features. He glanced up at me and paused a moment before resuming his conversation with Mrs Ellison and directing her to reception. The uniform often had that effect on people.

‘Tony, Constable Shephard here would like to have a word,’ Francine called.

‘Yes, of course.’ He clipped his soft British accent. ‘Through this way.’ He turned without further comment, headed down the hallway, then disappeared into a room off to the left.

I turned back to Francine. ‘I’ll pop by later and take my chances with Dr Arnold,’ I said, then followed the doctor down to his room.

By the time I entered, Dr Walden was already seated behind his desk. I closed the door behind me, and as I turned back to face him, I caught him completing the kind of appraisal one would normally reserve for livestock. His eyes flicked quickly back to my face. At least he had the grace to look a little abashed. My so-called reliable informants had got it a tad wrong. Charming he might be, but having a doctor give you the once-over was akin to being eyed up by your priest. I shuddered.

‘What can I do for you today, Constable?’

I dispensed with the usual social niceties and got straight to the point. ‘No doubt you have heard about the death of Gabriella Knowes?’

His face registered an immediate expression of loss.

‘I understand she was one of your patients, and I was wanting to ask you a few questions for our investigation.’

‘Yes, Francine told us this morning. Everyone is shocked by the news. She was a very lovely lady. What happened?’ He waved a hand in the direction of a chair, and I took the offer to sit down.

‘We found her body on the Mataura riverbank last night. Mr Knowes had reported her missing when she wasn’t at home when he’d returned from work. It was very out of character for her. You’ve no doubt heard the speculation of suicide. She’d left a note, and also an empty box of Hypnovel tablets.’

I noticed a slight frown at the mention of the Hypnovel.

‘The tablets weren’t prescribed by you, but by Dr Arnold. Had you given her sleeping tablets on other occasions?’

He sat there, elbows on desk, hands clasped. Index fingers drummed on his mouth. Then he leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest and looked at me.

‘No, I don’t think I’ve given Mrs Knowes sleeping tablets before. I’d have to check her notes to make certain. She would normally see me, though, not Dr Arnold.’ He paused. ‘I must have been away that day.’

‘I’ll be seeing Dr Arnold later on, when he gets in,’ I said. ‘He’ll be able to clarify that for us. But can you tell me if she’d ever mentioned feeling suicidal or had a history of depression?’

‘Sorry, I wish I could, but I can’t,’ he said.

‘And why not?’

‘I’m limited in the information I can give you because of the Privacy Act. We have to be very careful, you know.’

I resisted the urge to do a massive eye roll.

‘Mr Knowes is aware of my visit and I have his permission to ask about his family’s medical history,’ I said. I knew for a fact that under these circumstances Dr Walden could answer questions relating to Gaby’s death. ‘He wants to understand why this has happened. Anything you can tell us to explain it would go a long way to helping Gaby’s family cope with her death. As you can imagine, they’re in a state of shock.’

‘I understand how awful this must be for him, but what passed between Mrs Knowes and me is covered by doctor-patient privilege. I really can’t give out her personal information,’ he said, and he leaned forward onto the desk.

‘Would it help if I had Mr Knowes’ permission in writing?’ I asked, although I already suspected what the answer would be.

‘That wouldn’t matter. The only one who can give permission is Mrs Knowes,’ he said, and shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t have any say in the matter.

‘I had hoped that your concern for your patient and her family would prompt you to help us in our inquiries,’ I said, emphasising the word ‘concern’.

‘Don’t get me wrong, I think this is an awful thing to have happened and I would help you if I could, but I’m afraid the Privacy Act precludes me from divulging that kind of information to you.’

I was very tempted to go and find the relevant bit in the Act, blow it up on the photocopier five hundred percent and staple it to his desk, or elsewhere. But I could see I was going to get nowhere on this one.

‘Well,’ I said, and rose to my feet. ‘Your reluctance is noted. If you think of anything you can divulge which may be helpful, please call me.’

He gave me a look that tried to convey it was all beyond his control.

‘Good day, Officer.’

I somehow managed to exit the room without acting on the urge to slam the door. I knew he was an import, that I should give him the benefit of the doubt on his understanding of our laws, but his choice to hide behind the Privacy Act did not exactly endear him to me. I didn’t know what he thought he was going to achieve, other than seriously pissing me off. It wasn’t as if Lockie was going to turn around and sue him for revealing family secrets. Most people actually liked being able to assist the police in an investigation, especially in such tragic circumstances – young family, baby losing a mother. Lockie would be disappointed at the doctor’s reticence.

‘What an idiot,’ I whispered under my breath.

‘What was that?’

A voice startled the hell out of me. I was relieved to see it was Chrissie, the practice nurse.

‘Shit, you gave me a fright,’ I said, and grinned at her. Chrissie and I couldn’t be described as friends, but we did get on very well. ‘You heard about Gaby Knowes?’ She nodded. ‘I was just talking to Dr Walden about her.’

‘Yeah, that was awful. I assume he was helpful?’

‘Yeah, right.’ I was unable to hide the sarcasm in my voice.

‘I’m surprised,’ she said as we walked back to the front door. ‘I’d have thought he’d be able to give you some information.’

‘I thought so too, but he quoted the Privacy Act at me and that was the end of the conversation. I suppose that’s his right, but it doesn’t aid the investigation and it sure as hell doesn’t help her family.’

‘Well, if there’s anything I can do to help,’ she said, accent on the ‘I’, and quietly so only I could hear. I looked at her, curious, but she just smiled and returned to the practice rooms.

An invitation?

I waved farewell to Francine and headed out the door. I’d visit people who might actually be cooperative.