Dr Marcus Todd wasn’t at all like his colleague, Benedict Sutton. Cross had arranged to meet Sutton’s media sparring-partner, suspecting that there was more to his constant opposition to Sutton’s views whenever and wherever the opportunity presented itself. He wanted to find out what it was.
Todd was genial and welcoming, with none of the airs or sartorial flair of Sutton. He was a down-to-earth, bearded GP of the old school, roughly the same age as Sutton. His breath smelt of recently drunk coffee – instant, Cross surmised. There was a hint of dandruff on the shoulders of his avuncular woollen cardigan. He looked like he might’ve been better suited to being a country doctor back in the post-war early fifties, with a pipe as a permanent smoking protuberance from his mouth.
Relationships with doctors had changed during Cross’s lifetime. You never knew which doctor you were going to see when you made an appointment these days. The best doctors, and by that he meant the most communicative and interested in their patients, were always fully booked. If that was the case, you were asked to call back on a Monday morning at eight a.m. when new bookings would be taken. So, of course, every patient wanting an appointment duly called back and was placed in an automatic queue of indefinite length. For Cross there was only so much tinny recorded ABBA he could take down the phone so early on a Monday morning. By the time he called back in the afternoon, all the appointments for the new booking period were, of course, gone and he would be offered a telephone consultation – which he much preferred anyway – two weeks hence.
Todd was immediately curious as to why a policeman, and a murder detective at that, should be interested in Sutton.
‘Is he a person of interest in the case?’
‘He is not.’
‘Then why are you here exactly?’
‘I’ve listened to a number of your discussions with Dr Sutton and you seem to be at loggerheads in your views.’
‘He’s too fond of the media and maintaining his presence on it. It jars,’ Todd said.
‘Did you not have your own slot, I believe they call it, on an afternoon television programme for some time?’ Cross asked, puzzled by the apparent contradiction.
‘I still do,’ the doctor replied. ‘But I prefer to see it as an extended surgery. I deal with patients’ problems and give them advice. I don’t have a morally dubious cause to espouse.’
‘Do you doubt the veracity of his beliefs?’ Cross asked.
‘I’ll be honest with you. There is something I just dislike about the man. I don’t trust him. I don’t trust his motives. I think he says a lot of what he says just to get the attention that will inevitably come with it. The man is vain, interested almost solely in notoriety.’
‘You didn’t, in fact, answer my question,’ said Cross.
‘I’m not sure I believe him, no. For the reasons I just gave, Sergeant.’
‘Ah, I see. Now I understand.’
Todd frowned. ‘I don’t think that man should have anything to do with the provision of care for the mentally vulnerable. It’s always about him. He’s his first priority in any given situation.’
‘Hearing you speak like this makes me wonder whether you don’t have some personal experience with him,’ said Cross.
Todd considered this for a moment. Was this, Cross wondered, because what he was about to impart was confidential, or because it didn’t reflect well on him?
‘I had a patient,’ Todd began. ‘A young woman. Complicated. A difficult upbringing. Classic case of in and out of foster homes. She had a history of mental health issues, which is why she was moved around so many times. As a young adult she developed a dependence on various drugs and alcohol. Sutton had just stopped his medical practice and was concentrating on being a substance abuse and recovery therapist. He had a good reputation. People liked him. So I referred her to him. Six months later, under his care, she committed suicide.’
‘Which presumably wasn’t a complete shock, in her case?’ Cross asked.
‘I didn’t feel she was a suicide risk when I referred her. I was shocked and profoundly upset,’ Todd said.
‘Did you talk to Sutton?’
‘Of course.’
‘And what was his reaction to her death?’ said Cross.
‘He said he was puzzled. It was unexpected,’ replied Todd.
‘Anything else?’
‘No. That was all.’
Cross felt that Todd had more to say, but that the conversation had reached an inertial lull. So he did what he habitually did in these situations, and left. He could, if necessary, always come back. He also thought that Todd’s reliability might be a little suspect as he seemed to have an axe to grind. Cross needed to make sure the information the doctor had given him hadn’t been interpreted or tailored in a way to suit Todd’s agenda.