Fenton's Winter (19 page)

"What did you want to see my
sister about?" he inquired.

Fenton thought he detected an
effeminate nuance in Murray's voice. His suspicion was reinforced
by the way Murray held eye contact a little too long.

"I would prefer to speak to
Miss Murray personally if that's possible?" replied Fenton.

"You can't." said Murray.

Fenton waited for an
explanation but none was forthcoming and he got the impression that
Murray was enjoying his discomfort. "Is she indisposed?" he asked.
The word had been forced on him by the sheer elegance and quality
of the room and its furnishings. No one could be merely 'sick' in
such surroundings; they would have to be indisposed.

"No," said Murray. "She's
dead."

Fenton was shaken. He had been
expecting some trivial explanation like flu or an evening class but
dead? Once again he noticed that his host was observing his
reaction like an owl. Murray appeared to have deliberately
engineered the shock for his own ends. Fenton's discomfort
grew."I'm sorry," he said, wondering whether or not he should
inquire further.

In the event the Murray took
the initiative. "She was knocked down by a car," he said, "The
bastard didn't stop."

"How awful," said Fenton.

"Were you a friend of
Sandra's?"

Fenton confessed that he had
not known her at all. He responded to Murray's exaggerated frown
with the reason for his visit.

"Another one!" exclaimed
Murray, fixing Fenton with an unwavering stare.

Murray was making Fenton feel
distinctly uncomfortable but the significance of what Murray had
just said now superseded everything else."Another one? I don't
understand," he said.

"You are the second person to
come here from the Blood Transfusion service." said Murray. "Don't
you people ever talk to each other?"

Fenton was annoyed. Why had
Steve Kelly not told him that he himself intended visiting Murray?
He apologised for the intrusion, explaining that he himself had no
direct connection with the Transfusion Service but was a biochemist
from the lab where his sister had kindly donated blood to help with
a research project.

"Ah yes, with Dr Munro. Sandra
told me about it."

Fenton felt a sudden excitement
creep over him. "What did she tell you Mr Murray?" he asked.

Murray's fingers scratched at
his unruly hair and he screwed up his eyes as he tried to recall
what his sister had told him. "Something about a new plastic, I
think. Dr Munro wanted to do some tests."

Fenton had to make a conscious
effort to control his excitement. He asked, "Did she happen to say
what kind of tests Mr Murray?"

Murray replied, “I'm sure she
did but it wouldn't have meant much to me. Sandra was the scientist
in this family. I'm an artist. Science is a complete mystery to
me."

"I understand," said Fenton,
swallowing his frustration and trying to keep calm. "But is there
nothing you can remember Mr Murray?" he prompted.

Murray lapsed into dramatic
silence as if he were in a trance. Fenton, although outwardly
remaining calm, felt as if his head were full of broken glass. The
seconds ticked by.

Murray eventually looked at
Fenton out of the corner of one eye and let out an enormous
sigh."I'm afraid not," he said. "But I do remember he wasn't happy
with it ..."

Fenton hid his disappointment
and said, "No matter. Don't worry about it."

Fenton had fallen at the last
hurdle but he could see that he had learned a lot. If nothing else
he now knew that he was on the right track. He said, "I mustn't
take up any more of your time Mr Murray, particularly as my
colleague has already bothered you."

"He didn't bother me," said
Murray. "He spoke to my sister."

Fenton was confused. He said,
"I thought he had been here today."

"No, this was three weeks ago,"
said Murray.

Fenton realised that he had
been jumping to conclusions. He had assumed that Steve Kelly had
called to see Murray after their telephone conversation.Kelly could
not have been the caller three weeks ago or he would have said so.
Someone else from the Blood Transfusion Service must have visited
the house but why? "Was something wrong?" he asked Murray

"I don't think so," said
Murray, scratching his head again and looking more puzzled than
ever. "As far as I remember the gentleman wanted to know the same
sort of things as you..."

Fenton noticed the hint of an
accusation in Murray's voice and set up a defensive screen. He
said, "I'm afraid things have been in a bit of a muddle since Dr
Munro's death." He apologised to Murray again for the intrusion and
got up to leave.

"May I offer you a drink before
you go?"

Fenton declined politely,
saying that he had to drive and if the fog were still around he
would need all his wits about him. As the front door opened Fenton
saw that the fog was worse than ever.

Fenton opted for a warm bath as
being the quickest way of heating up after becoming chilled to the
marrow by the painfully slow journey home. He lay back and sipped
whisky from a glass that he had placed on the soap shelf. There was
a lot to think about before morning. For a start why had Blood
Transfusion run a check on a donor? Was this normal practice or had
they some particular reason in Sandra Murray's case? And why had
Steve Kelly not told him? Surely he must have known? But this
question paled into insignificance when he considered what he had
learned from Murray about Neil Munro's interest in the plastic.

In finding out that Neil had
suspected that there was something wrong with it he had, not only
uncovered the reason for Neil's preoccupation in the weeks leading
up to his death, he had found a possible motive for his murder.
Someone had wanted to stop him probing too deeply into Saxon
plastic, someone who must have known that he was beginning to have
doubts about it, someone who had been close to Neil at the time
and, of course, someone who had something to gain by covering it
up.

There was only one candidate.
The bloated face of Nigel Saxon swam into the steamy air of the
bathroom. That would also confirm his suspicions over the incident
with the fume cupboard. Saxon must have feared that he too would
eventually discover whatever Neil had found out about the plastic.
Saxon must have set him up with the acid-cyanide trap and then made
an excuse to leave the room.True he had covered it up well when he
had come back but that just served to show the devious cunning of
the man.

"The bastard," whispered Fenton
as more began to make sense. Saxon and Neil had been working
closely over the new Blood Sampler. If Neil had said anything to
anyone about his fears it would probably have been to Saxon.
Perhaps they had agreed to keep it between themselves if Neil had
not been sure what the problem was. But when Neil had become
certain Saxon had killed him to keep it quiet. Millions, the
newspaper had said, Saxon Medical was worth millions with a license
for the plastic.

Fenton's grip on his glass
tightened as he came to terms with reality. He could not prove it.
He still did not know what was wrong with the plastic and, when
viewed coldly, the only additional evidence he had obtained lay in
the word of an eccentric up in Braidbank who had told him that a
dead man had told his sister, also dead, that he thought there was
something wrong with the plastic too. Jamieson would just love
that.

Perhaps he could get some kind
of corroboration from the Blood Transfusion Service, thought
Fenton. If he could speak to the person who had visited Sandra
Murray he could get a first hand account of what Sandra Murray had
told him and that might be good enough to convince Jamieson.

The bathroom had grown too full
of maybes. The water had grown cold and his glass empty. Fenton
dried himself and rectified the problem with the glass. The flat
still seemed cold.

Jenny got home just before
eight in the morning and stifled a big yawn with the back of her
hand, keys still held in it. "Now I know what a whore feels like in
the morning," she sighed. "What a night."

Fenton listened patiently while
Jenny told him all that had happened in a busy shift. When she had
finished he said, "I went out somewhere last night."

"Really? Where?"

Fenton put down a cup of coffee
in front of her and told her of his visit to Murray and what he had
learned. Jenny looked shocked. Fenton had to prompt her, "Don't you
see?” Neil thought there was something wrong with Saxon plastic
too!"

"But what?" asked Jenny.

Fenton admitted that he still
did not know but pointed out that just to have his suspicions
confirmed by what Neil had believed was a step forward. "And it
provides a motive for his murder," he added. "This is what connects
Neil's death to the others."

"Saxon!" said Jenny.

"Saxon," agreed Fenton. "He was
working closely with Neil and he had everything to gain from the
plastic getting a license. It had to be him." said Fenton.

Jenny could find no real
argument. "If you are right this is absolutely incredible," she
said. "But...you could still be wrong."

"I know, I know." said Fenton
getting up to refill their coffee cups.

"Why did Neil use this Sandra
Murray woman as a donor?" asked Jenny.

"I don't know" confessed
Fenton.

"You people usually use each
other when you want volunteers don't you?" said Jenny.

"I suppose he wanted a
different blood group," said Fenton almost automatically then both
he and Jenny saw the importance of what he had said at the same
time. "Could that be it?" he said softly. "Different blood groups?
People in one group are susceptible while others are not?"

Jenny broke the spell of the
moment by beginning to rummage through the black leather bag that
rested on her knees. She pulled out a cardboard folder and handed
it to Fenton saying, "These are the details you asked me to get on
the child victims. I only managed to get the one; this is the ward
file on the Watson boy."

Fenton flicked open the cover
and traced his finger down the page till he found what he was
looking for...'AB', the boy had been group, AB, a pretty rare
group. Now if Sandra Murray had been in the same blood group...he
was in business.

Fenton nearly bowled Ian
Ferguson over as he entered the lab and rushed up the stairs,
assisting his rate of climb by strong pulls on the banister. The
young biochemist half turned to receive an apology but was
disappointed when Fenton pressed on regardless and shut his lab
door behind him.

With his white coat only half
on Fenton dialled the Blood Transfusion Service and asked to speak
to Steve Kelly. Kelly answered as he was holding the receiver
between shoulder and cheek in order to get his left arm into his
coat.

"Good morning. How did you get
on?"

"Just tell me one thing. What
group was Sandra Murray?"

"Is that my starter for
ten?"

"It's important."

"All right, hang on."

Fenton drummed his fingers on
the desk while he waited impatiently for Kelly to return.

"She was B positive."

Fenton swore.

"Are you always this sweet in
the morning?" asked Kelly.

Fenton apologised for his
rudeness explaining that a pet theory had just died.

"Want to tell me?"

"Some other time. You didn't
tell me that someone from BTS had interviewed Sandra Murray?"

"What are you talking
about?"

Fenton repeated what Murray had
told him.

"No way," said Kelly.

"I don't understand," said
Fenton.

"He must have been mistaken,"
said Kelly. "No one from this department would have gone there
because we have no interest in what the blood is used for. As far
as we are concerned we received a request from Biochemistry for
fresh group B blood. We did the paperwork and complied with the
request. That was the end of the matter.

Fenton's spirits hit the floor.
He started to say something but dejection destroyed any motivation
to go on. He managed to summon up enough energy to thank Kelly for
his help then put the phone down.

It had started to rain again
outside. Fenton idly tapped his pencil end over end as he gazed
idly at the drops on the window and faced up to the latest
question. If no one from Blood Transfusion had gone to see Sandra
Murray, who had? After a moment's thought Fenton found the answer
obvious. Neil Munro's killer, that's who. The killer must have gone
there to find out how much Sandra Murray knew and when it had
turned out to be too much he...had arranged for her death as
well...the hit and run accident was no accident at all.

Fenton, almost afraid to face
up to this latest possibility, played with the information in his
head. It was a piece in a puzzle; he turned it round and round and
tried to make it fit. A mistake! The killer had made a mistake he
decided. From the way Murray had spoken he might have seen the man
who had visited his sister pretending to be from Blood Transfusion
and, if that were so, Murray could identify the killer. What was
more, if Murray described Nigel Saxon, then he would have enough to
go to the police with. They could nail Saxon without actually
knowing what was wrong with the plastic.

Jenny telephoned at eleven
saying that she couldn’t sleep; she had to know about the blood
group idea.

"Wrong again, confessed
Fenton.”Sandra Murray was group B not AB."

Jenny made disappointed sounds.
"It might still be worth checking further," she said.

"Maybe," said Fenton without
any real conviction, "But there's something else."

"Oh yes?"

"I think that Sandra Murray was
murdered. I think that Neil told her something was wrong with Saxon
plastic and the killer found out. Her death wasn't accidental at
all. She was murdered just like Neil."