Murder in Ballyhasset (11 page)

Mick Doody is very good-looking,' Libby said to Gina the next day while they sat in the sunny hospital canteen. The canteen was full of nurses having a tea break and chatting noisily. Libby added, as she drank her tea, 'I'd say women admire him.'

'Yes, all the nurses here seem to find him very attractive,' replied Gina. 'And they know he's got money.'

Libby smiled. 'Which makes him even more attractive, don't you think?'

'Of course.' Gina's eyes twinkled. 'I was out in Mr Doody's house once. He had a party at Easter, and all the hospital staff was there. He has a swimming pool and tennis courts.'

'I was there myself,' said Libby. 'Beautiful place.'

'He even owns a racehorse,' Gina added.

'Ruth, the medical intern, had an affair with Mick Doody, I believe.'

Gina made a face. 'Yeah, we all heard about that.'

Libby drained her cup of tea. ‘Is it still going on?'

Gina said in a low voice, 'No. She told me they've split. She calls him a sleaze now.'

Libby found Ruth on the cardiology ward and asked her to come down to the hospital canteen when she was free. After ten minutes, Ruth arrived, and found Libby sitting alone in the corner.

'What's this about?' asked Ruth, as she sat facing the private detective.

'I hear you're having an affair with Mick Doody,' said Libby, straight out.

Ruth glared at her, her pretty face scowling with resentment. 'What's it to you?'

'I'm sorry, it's just we want to find out who killed Kathleen.'

'And you think I did,' the intern said with anger, keeping her voice low.

'No, I never said that.'

'I did have a fling with him, but it's over now,' she answered. 'I made a foolish mistake.'

'Did Kathleen ever tackle you over carrying on with her husband?'

'She never confronted me or him,' the young doctor said. 'This sounds strange, I know.'

Libby answered, 'Very strange, given the type she was.'

Ruth nodded. 'Kathleen was never meek normally. Maybe she never knew about us.'

Libby thought of the fling Kathleen had with Shane. 'Perhaps they were both guilty of having affairs, so she said nothing to him.'

'Yeah, Mick told me she was unfaithful to him a few times.' Ruth stood up quickly. 'I've to go now, I'm late for my outpatient clinic.'

'Fair enough.' Libby watched as the young doctor took off down the corridor.

***

Libby visited Mick Doody in his office in Cork, a few hours later. He wasn't pleased to see her and reluctantly invited her to sit down.

He wore dark reading glasses and was dressed in a well-cut navy suit and a pink tie. He scowled at Libby across a pile of papers stacked on the desk. 'What's this about? I've a lot of work to do.'

 'Ruth Breslin admitted you had an affair with her,' Libby said, ignoring his bad temper.

Mr Doody gazed at her with a blank face. 'Who?'

'One of the young hospital doctors. Surely, you remember her? Blond hair, slim, freckles.'

'Oh, that Ruth.' The planning officer waved his hand as if chasing a wasp off his coat. 'I slept with her a few times. We had a laugh, that's all. No harm done.'

'And was Kathleen aware of these encounters?' Libby asked.

'I don't know. She never brought up the subject.' He frowned. 'Kathleen had a fling with that doctor, Shane. You heard about that. I travel a lot, so she had plenty of opportunity to have affairs, if she wanted.'

'So you didn't argue with Kathleen about these affairs?'

He tightened his lips. 'If she had affairs, they weren't grand passions, just sex. I just know about the one with Shane. I don't think there were others.'

'So you had a happy marriage,' said Libby.

'We sure did, in spite of what you all seem to think. Now if you don't mind, I have these papers to read before the committee meeting, this afternoon. You can see yourself out.'

He turned away and began searching for something on his desk.

Libby met Dawn back at their office. 'I don't believe all this stuff the magazines say about an open marriage suiting certain couples,' Dawn said. 'I bet the two of them fought bitterly.'

Libby agreed. 'Mick is arrogant and Kathleen was rude. I bet they had some good fights. I wonder who won them? Also, he lied to me before this. He knew Kathleen had a fling with Shane all along.'

'I'd love to have been a fly on the wall in his huge place,' said Dawn, with relish.

'Of course, just because they fought, doesn't mean he killed her,' Libby added, thinking of her own marriage and the many rows she had with her husband.

Libby visited the pathologist at his laboratory on a Friday. Dr Gallagher glanced up from his desk and greeted her. He pulled out a piece of paper from the file lying in front of him. 'These are the results on the blood test sample I took from Pamela Kelly, over a week ago.'

'What do they say?' asked Libby, her voice eager.

Dr Gallagher peered at her through his thick glasses. 'Well, they merely show Pamela took a few glasses of alcohol.'

'What about the MS she is meant to be suffering from? Are there any signs of that?'

'There is no blood test that would show that, I'm afraid. I found no other sign that she was suffering from this disease, anyway. Apart from her lungs, her organs were in excellent shape and typical of a young woman of her age.'

Libby nodded. 'Was she very drunk?'

'No, only merry,' the doctor said. 'By the way, I also found alcohol in the stomach contents.'

'Could she have drowned in the bath and carried to the beach?'

'Not at all, she could only have drowned in the sea, I found sea salt in her lungs, and diatoms in the lung tissue.'

'Oh right,' Libby said.

'I did a diatom test on the liver tissue,' continued the pathologist.

'Diatoms - what are they?' asked Libby, her face blank.

'Wee pieces of algae, found in seawater. I found these in Pamela's lungs and her liver. I had to use a microscope for this. It's a standard test we do. It merely confirms she died from drowning.' He added, 'I mean, she was alive entering the water.'

'You told us this before,' said Libby with impatience.

He smiled. 'This proves it further.'

Libby said with a sigh, 'Fair enough doctor, you're the expert.'

'From the bloodstream, these diatoms travelled to the liver. I found them in Pamela's liver tissue.'

Libby said, 'Can you repeat what you said? About finding these things in her liver?'

'Pamela was alive on entry to the water because her heart was pumping,' said the pathologist. 'The heart must have been pumping blood, to get blood with diatoms to go to the liver.'

'Oh right,' she said, her face brightening. 'I understand now what you're saying, I think.'

Dr Gallagher said, 'Now you've got it.'

She thanked him and drove back to her office.

Later that same day, Libby rang the pathologist again. 'I want to ask you, Doctor, about Pamela's blood samples. Did you check them for sedatives?'

Dr Gallagher replied, 'Of course I did. I tested the blood for all common sedatives and alcohol. There were no sedatives, just alcohol.'

'Can't you do any other tests to find sedatives?'

'I kept some urine samples. I can test them for fast-acting sedatives.'

'Please do,' she said with urgency before she rang off.

On the following day, the pathologist rang Libby while she was in the office.

He sounded excited. 'Wait till I tell ye, Pamela took a small amount of Rohypnol before she died.'

'Isn't Rohypnol a sleeping tablet?' Libby asked.

'Aye, it's a fast-acting sedative, twelve times more potent than Valium.'

'Would Pamela be able to walk if she took this stuff?'

'She would have,' answered Dr Gallagher gravely, 'if she had taken just a normal dose.'

Libby thought about this and then said, 'Pamela lived beside Seapoint Promenade. It would only have taken her a few minutes to cross the road and get down to the beach.'

'She may have done so,' said Dr Gallagher. 'The drug had time to clear from her bloodstream completely before she died.'

'Why didn't you find this drug in her before this?' Libby asked with anxiety.

The pathologist said, 'It wasn't in her blood. As I said, it had cleared out of her bloodstream by the time she died.'

'So you found it in the urine?'

'Aye, luckily I kept the samples,' he answered. 'The urine is the only place to find it after it clears out of the bloodstream.'

'I wonder why this happened?' Libby mused out loud.

The pathologist added in a weary voice, 'That's your job to find out, not mine.'

'Thanks Doctor,' Libby said. 'But haven't you told all this to the police?'

'Yes, of course,' he said. 'But they told me they're not going to reopen the case. It's probably best to let sleeping dogs lie anyway.'

Libby disagreed but said nothing and he ended the call.

***

The two women investigators entered the Cat and Cage on the north quay area of the River Lee, later that Friday evening. The pub provided cheap tasty lunches and a good pint of Guinness. It was in walking distance of their office. This place is stuck in a sixties time warp, Libby thought, staring at the large flowery carpet and the peeling flowered wallpaper.

Dawn admitted she had never imagined this drowning case would turn out to be so complicated. She ordered a pint of beer for herself and for Libby. Gazing directly at her companion, she said, 'Pamela had to have a prescription for Rohypnol, don't you agree?'

Libby replied, after drinking from her glass and putting it back down, 'Not necessarily. She could easily have gotten that from Shane or got some herself from the hospital pharmacy, maybe.'

'But...' Dawn's voice trailed off as she spotted Brendan entering the pub. As she waved to him, he came over and smiled at her, saying, 'I'll be back over in a minute.'

After going up to the bar, he bought a pint of stout and came back. He sat down beside the two women.

Libby said, 'I'm surprised to see you here, Brendan; this place is a bit far from your office.'

'I know but I'm meeting a new client in here,' he replied. 'My client owns a clothes shop down the street and he's late. 'Any news on how Pamela died?' Brendan gazed at the two women earnestly.

'The latest news is that she took a sedative before she ended up in the water,' Dawn said with a grimace. 'The pathologist found evidence Pamela had taken Rohypnol.'

'What? I don't believe it!' Brendan gasped in disbelief and leaned forward. 'She never took tablets. Where on earth did she get them anyway?'

'We don't know,' Libby said with a sigh. 'They're potent sedatives, but don't forget she was a doctor working in a hospital. I guess they weren't hard to come by.'

Brendan looked at her anxiously. 'But Pamela's death was an accident, right?'

Libby drank slowly from her glass of Guinness before replying. 'Yes, the pathologist said she definitely drowned. However, I think that's not the full story. In fact I'm sure it's not.'

Brendan's brow creased. 'If Pamela drowned, there's no foul play.'

Libby said gravely, 'I think Pamela was murdered.'

He stared at her in silence, and took a sip of his beer. 'Murdered? Why would you think that? She left a suicide note, Conor told me.'

'The Gardaí didn't find her fingerprints on that note.' Libby's expression was intense. 'I reckon she didn't type it.'

'How are you getting on with the flat?' asked Brendan abruptly, his expression wooden.

Libby realised he was purposely ignoring her last remark. 'Oh, yes,' she replied, 'I meant to tell you earlier, but with all this happening, I forgot. I'll be moving out of your flat soon. I've found a new house in Ballyhasset, and I've put in an offer.'

Libby's son came into the living room to talk to his mother, on the following Monday evening. Libby sat watching the television with her legs stretched out.

Andrew perched himself on the edge of the sofa, his long legs dangling, facing her. Libby gazed at her son's long blond hair, it almost reached his shoulders. She wished she could get a scissors at it and snip it short, to make him look like a boy instead of a girl.

'I met a doctor, today,' he said. His face was flushed with excitement. 'I told him that I was thinking about becoming a doctor myself.'

Libby gazed at him with relief. 'What happened to your idea of becoming a fisherman?'

'I went out on the boats twice with my friend's Dad.'

Her eyes narrowed. 'You never told me this.'

'Because I knew you would have kicked up,' he said. 'You'd have tried to stop me.'

'I certainly would. Well then, what happened?'

He hesitated for a few seconds. 'I fell off the boat. I fell into the sea.'

'When did this happen?'

'It's all right, calm down, Ma,' he said, sighing heavily. 'I managed to swim to safety. I am a good swimmer, you know, and I was wearing my life jacket. The waters were calm. I was never in any danger.'

'You never told me, just sneaked out,' she said angrily. 'When did you do this?' She waited, but he did not answer. 'Last week was it? When I thought you were with your father?'

He nodded. His face became red. 'Aren't you going to let me finish?'

'Go ahead.' Libby sank down in the chair, feeling defeated.

'I got a fright. That put me off the whole idea of doing this full time. I was okay that day, the sea was calm. But it's a fierce dangerous job in bad weather.' He shook his head. 'No, fishing's not for me.'

'Glad you've finally seen sense,' said Libby.

'Do you want to hear about my new choice of career?' Andrew asked her.

'Sure. Fire away.' Here we go again, she thought. What's his next hair-brained plan? She switched the TV channel, feeling angry.

'Doctor Raman Sharma, the Indian doctor - he showed me around the Emergency Room. I watched him stitch a child's knee.'

Libby looked at him in surprise. 'So you met Raman.'

'Yeah, in the hospital. I was visiting my friend Donal. You know him, you met him before. He's the one with the broken leg.'

'Yeah, you introduced me to him,' replied Libby as she watched the current affairs program on RTE.

'Anyway, I introduced myself to Doctor Raman.'

'He's a friendly guy all right,' Libby said.

'Yeah, we got talking. He said he knew you. I told him I wanted to be a doctor. I asked him if I could follow him around for a bit, so I could watch him at his work.'

'That was clever of you,' Libby said.

'I saw Doctor Raman treat a child who fell off a swing. He cleaned up the cut and put in three stitches. Really neat they were.'

She smiled. 'It's really nice of Raman to go to all that trouble for you.'

'Then the doctor brought me in with him when he spoke to a man with a pain in his stomach.' Andrew stopped and took a breath. 'I saw him use his stethoscope on the man's chest.'

Libby listened with amusement. She hadn't seen Andrew this excited in years.

'I saw the wards with the beds of sick patients, and the nurse's station where the nurses answer the phones and stuff.'

'So are you going back again to the hospital to see him?' asked Libby.

He nodded. 'Doctor Raman's promised to show me the mortuary next time.' His eyes grew round. 'Where they cut up dead bodies.'

'You still need to get top marks in your Leaving Cert to be a doctor,' Libby said.

'I know, but my teachers say I might get the marks. I'm the best in my class.'

'Fine, you obviously take after your father. Anyway, we'll wait and see how you get on in your exams before you make any career plans.'

***

The next day, Libby rang Raman at the hospital to thank him for helping her son. Raman agreed to have a drink with her in the Green Lemon on Tuesday evening. Libby bought a glass of lager, while she waited for him at the bar counter. The pub was busy for a weekday. Many men sat the counter drinking pints and reading newspapers. She was conscious of the constant clinking of glasses as the two barmen cleared the tables and wiped ashtrays.

After a few minutes, Raman arrived breathless. 'Sorry, I got held up.'

'Have you been working until now?' Libby asked.

He nodded. 'I don't get home till after seven any night.' Raman ordered a drink for himself from the young waitress who approached the table.

'Thanks for helping my son. Andrew wanted to be a fisherman, up until now. Such a tough job.'

'Being a doctor is tough too.' Raman's dark eyes shone. 'But it's very rewarding, I love it.'

'It's great Andrew has changed his mind about his choice of career. He now wants to be a doctor. What a relief for me, I can tell you. I had all sorts of dreams about hearing he had drowned at sea.' Libby took a gulp of her drink. 'I'll cook you a meal to thank you properly. Tell me when you're free, and we'll arrange it.'

He smiled serenely at her. 'I'm glad to help. I'm looking forward to this meal, as long as it's vegetarian, of course. I'm a Hindu, you see.'

'Vegetarian it will be, then.' She remained silent for a while as she watched people leave their tables. 'I tell you the only type of doctor I don't like - psychiatrists.'

He stared at her in surprise. 'Why?'

'They're a crowd of con artists. My sister keeps going to treatment centres for alcoholism. She’s met about six psychiatrists, but none of them managed to cure her.'

'Your sister has to make up her own mind anyway to give up alcohol, and use a bit of common sense.'

'You're right, I suppose.' Libby sighed as she noticed the pub beginning to fill up with people. The air was smoky.

'Are you married, Doctor?'

'No, still single,' replied Raman with a smile.

She smiled back. 'Isn't there a girl at home in India waiting for you, then?'

'Sadly, no.' His face brightened as he added, 'But I will marry an Indian girl if I do go home. I couldn't bring a white girl out there. My family would have a heart attack.'

'Are you from a rural area?' she asked.

Raman nodded. 'Yes, it's a farming village in the South. We're very conservative and fairly poor.'

Libby smiled. 'I'd say any Irish woman would get a shock if you brought her there.'

'Of course, I may never go back to India.' He drank his beer. 'I may be lucky and find a permanent post in a Cork hospital.'

She watched a couple moving away from the table in front of them. 'All those long hours of work must put a strain on you, do they not?'

He was silent. She could see he was considering his reply. 'Yes, sometimes I appear offhand to patients simply because I'm tired.'

'Is this why Kathleen was such a terror?' she asked. 'Was she stressed out?'

'Partly why. Also, don't forget she was a woman in a man's field. This may be 1972, but we still need a lot more women consultants.'

'Yeah, she must have felt isolated at times.' Libby looked at him with scepticism. 'Kathleen was married, though. She could talk to her husband.'

Raman took a large gulp from his glass of his beer. 'He wouldn't have understood. You have to talk to another doctor about these things.'

'She had Pamela if she wanted. However, Kathleen ill-treated Pamela, instead of making her a friend. In fact, Pamela said she was downright nasty.'

'True,' he replied, 'I saw her insulting Pamela several times. Kathleen was a bully.'

'I don't feel sorry for her then.' Libby scowled. 'If Kathleen was such a dragon, how did she expect people to be friendly to her?'

Raman shrugged. 'She told me she hated working in this small town.'

'Really, why's that?'

'I don't know, but I heard a rumour she had to take this job because she was asked to leave the Bon Secours in Cork.'

'Why was that?' Libby's eyes grew round.

'I don't know. I asked Kathleen, but she denied it all.'

'Do you like working at St Gabriel's?' asked Libby.

Raman's face brightened. 'I love the hospital and the town. If I get an extension on my visa, I'll remain on here, for sure.'

Libby asked him if he thought Pamela had been stressed before she died.

His expression became serious. 'She had some stress, like all interns have. The intern year is terrible, because the work is new and the hours are very long.'

Libby nodded. 'Yeah, Pamela told me all that.'

'When I met Pamela first as an intern I gave her the advice I was given when I started. You have to look after your health, get enough rest on your days off and stop worrying. You will make mistakes because you are only starting. You must ask for help if you're unsure about something. At the same time you can't be too cautious, you have to take risks in order to learn. After the intern year we learned enough medicine to worry less about saving patients and more about saving ourselves.'

'Well, at least you got through it, the intern year, I mean.'

He gave a sigh. 'Most of us do, we have to. A few don't manage to, they either leave or commit suicide. That is the sad truth of the times we live in. But that's all in the past for me. I'm a registrar now. I have only to sit one more exam to become a fully qualified surgeon. I hope I pass, because I can tell you I'm tired of all this studying.'

***

Libby arranged to meet Raman on the following day at the hospital. It was a wet morning. Dawn collected her in her little red Austin Mini.

'Where to?' Dawn asked.

'St Gabriel's Hospital again. Raman said Shane hasn't turned up for work for a few days.'

Dawn asked, 'Shane's a junior doctor, am I right?'

Libby frowned. 'Yes. You should know that by now. Shane works on the surgery ward. Raman thinks he's stealing drugs.'

Dawn sighed. 'I'm getting sick of that place. Talk about a den of iniquity.'

'How's the gym going?' Libby asked.

Dawn made a face. 'Okay, but I prefer jogging outside in the air to all this indoor stuff. At least then I feel I'm going somewhere.' She turned the steering wheel. 'Even if it's only a few laps around the pier.'

'I must start running again myself,' Libby said. 'I've no excuse now, with this new pup we have.' Her voice trailed off as she realised Dawn was driving too fast. 'Slow down Dawn, we want to get there in one piece.'

They walked into the hospital reception area, after finding a parking space. Dawn asked the receptionist in the main lobby to page Raman. They waited for him to arrive. A few minutes later, Raman came striding down the corridor toward them, his large white coat flapping. He seemed pleased to see them.

'I just wanted to tell you about these missing tablets.' Raman's narrow face had an intense expression. 'I know who's responsible, but I've no proof.' Raman had arranged for Dawn and Libby to meet Sister Ellen, a ward sister, and the most senior nurse in the hospital. She was also a nun. They chose a small private room near the reception area, which was bare except for a desk and four chairs.

Sister Ellen sat down with them. She told them she had worked in St Gabriel's for thirty years. She explained she organised the drugs cabinet on the surgical ward, and she counted the drugs to make sure the numbers were correct.

'What's the normal security procedure for medicines?' Libby asked.

'The drugs cabinet is locked and kept on a trolley. A pair of nurses brings it around the ward when they hand the drugs out.'

'So that's the only time it's not locked.'

Sister Ellen nodded. 'That's right.'

'Which drugs were stolen?'

Sister Ellen said, 'Ten bottles of Dalmane and fifteen bottles of Valium.'

'Who would have access to the cabinet when it was unlocked… or any other time?'

'Any one of the staff. But the two nurses who normally work the night shift on my ward must have left the cabinet open.' The nurse's brow creased. 'I'm keeping a closer eye on them now.'

'Somebody was careless,' Libby said.

'Extremely careless,' agreed the nurse, tightening her lips. 'Leaving the cabinet open like that. Disgraceful.'

'Where do you keep the key?'

'In my pocket all the time,' said the nurse firmly. 'No one took the key, I'm sure about that.'

Libby thanked her, and the head staff nurse left.

'I'm telling you,' said Raman. 'Shane took those medicines. He's been acting weird, particularly in the last week or so and now he hasn't come in the last three days at all. There's no answer at his house when I called, and he's not answering his phone either.'

'What was Shane doing on the ward that was so weird?' asked Libby.