The Missing Nurse, page 1
part #1 of Yorkshire Murder Mystery Series
THE MISSING
NURSE
An enthralling crime mystery full of twists
(Yorkshire Murder Mysteries Book 1)
ROGER SILVERWOOD
Revised edition 2019
Joffe Books, London
www.joffebooks.com
First published as “In the Midst of Life” 2004
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The spelling used is British English except where fidelity to the author’s rendering of accent or dialect supersedes this. The right of Roger Silverwood to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
©Roger Silverwood
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
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Glossary of English Slang for US readers
CHAPTER 1
Moorside Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Pontylliath, Wales, UK. 13 May 1981.
It was 9 a.m. Nurse Derri Evans, aged twenty-five, loaded a hypodermic with one millilitre of equinol. Holding the syringe upright in front of the pharmacy window, he pressed the plunger until the yellow liquid squirted out of the tip of the needle. He let the empty ampoule fall and clatter into the waste bin and placed the hypodermic in a stainless steel kidney bowl on the worktop. He reached up into a cupboard and pulled out a square of lint from a navy blue wrapper and draped it over the bowl.
He carried the bowl and contents out into the corridor to the cream door opposite. It had the number sixteen painted above the observation grill. Silently, he opened the eyehole and peered into the room. The shapeless mound in the bed indicated that Gavin Meredith was still asleep.
The nurse selected a key from a bunch fastened to a chain round his waist and pushed it into the door. The smell of camphor and perspiration came strongly to his nostrils as he entered the room. He wrinkled his nose.
‘Come on, Gavin. Wake up,’ he said brightly as he crossed to the barred window to open it. The fresh cool breeze wafted onto his face, and he heard the rustle of leaves on the trees. He smiled, ‘That’s better.’
He looked at the bed. There was still no movement. The sheet was pulled up and over the pillow. ‘Come on, Gavin,’ he said coaxingly.
He crossed the room and peeled back the bedclothes to discover only pillows and clothes where the patient should have been. Suddenly, from behind, he heard a slight noise. He turned to see the tall figure of Gavin Meredith in blue-and-white striped pyjamas. His face was scarlet, his mouth open dripping saliva. He was in front of the open wardrobe door holding an iron bed-side above his head and aiming it at him.
‘Gavin!’ The nurse yelled and put his arms up to defend himself.
It was too late. The iron bed-side hit him on the forehead. He fell backwards, the kidney bowl and contents went up in the air and blood spurted from the wound. As Derri fell, he hit the back of his head on a radiator pipe protruding from the wall. His eyes closed and he slithered down the white plaster wall onto the maroon linoleum.
Seconds later, there was some loud knocking on the door. And frantic calls. More knocking followed by the rattle of keys. ‘Are you all right, Derri? Are you all right?’
The door opened and three nurses, a male and two females, burst in. They saw Nurse Derri Evans lying unconscious by the bed in a pool of blood. The iron bed-side was across the corner of the room, the kidney bowl and hypodermic were scattered under the bed and there was blood splattered down the wall and on the floor.
Gavin Meredith was crouching in the corner of the room his hands around his head, his big eyes looking alternately upwards and then at the nurses. His wet mouth turned up at the corners.
Nurse Derri Evans’ heartbeat was irregular and his breathing shallow. They removed him to a side ward where a doctor and three nurses worked on him intensively for forty minutes. At 10 a.m. he was dead.
Police Station, Bromersley; South Yorkshire, UK. 17 June 2002.
Detective Inspector Angel growled something unintelligible as he purposefully closed the door with the words ‘Chief Constable’ painted on it. Although a heavy man, he bounced down the stairs as fast as the youngest policeman in the station. He strode along the olive green corridor and stuck his pug-shaped nose into the CID room and surveyed the occupants. His eyes came to rest on a slim, twenty-two-year-old Asian man. He was smartly dressed in a dark suit, white and blue striped shirt and tie.
‘Hey, boy,’ Angel bellowed.
The young man stood up, breathed in hard and stared at him, his chin and eyes set like granite.
Angel ignored the show. ‘Find DS Gawber and tell him to come to my office, pronto.’ He turned away and then turned back, ‘And you’d better bring yourself along as well. See what you can learn.’
Angel turned swiftly away and moved on to his office. He had just sat down when there was a knock at the door.
‘Come in.’
A tall, lean man with a tanned face, close-cropped hair and a gold earring glinting from his earlobe came in. He was wearing jeans, trainers and a white t-shirt with ‘Bromersley Bitter’ printed in red on white across his chest.
Angel looked up. His jaw dropped. ‘Who are you? What do you want?’
‘Morning sir. I’m DS Crisp. I’ve been assigned to you while DS Gawber’s away.’
Angel pursed his lips and breathed out loudly. ‘Oh no you haven’t, lad. There’s some mistake.’
The DS stared hard at him. ‘There’s no mistake, sir. The Super said…’
‘I’m sure Superintendent Harker wouldn’t assign a man off the dustbins to me.’
The DS touched his worn jeans and smiled. ‘Oh, yes, sir. I’ve just come off an obo, sir. Drugs squad. Had to dress the part.’
Angel wasn’t smiling. ‘Aye. Well, go home and dress for this part. And take that earring out. And get a wash and a shave. And be quick about it. We don’t deal with druggies in this department; we deal with a smarter, craftier, more evil set of crooks, in the main, and they all dress better than you. We need to be at least as smart as the public we serve. And for goodness sake, stand up straight.’
The young man turned to leave and then he turned back. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Be back in thirty minutes. And where has DS Gawber gone to?’
‘Er. He’s gone on a course.’
‘What sort of a course?’
‘Profiling, sir.’
‘Profiling? What the hell’s that?’
‘Well, sir, it’s where…’
‘All right, Sergeant, all right. I can guess what profiling is quicker than you can tell me.’
DS Crisp was glad to be out of the room. He closed the door quickly.
Angel grunted as he reached over for the phone and dialled a number. ‘Hello. It’s Mick Angel. I want to speak to Superintendent Harker. Oh. Morning, John.’
‘Aye. What is it?’
‘I’ve just had a lad in here telling me that DS Gawber is away.’
‘He’s on a course. Hendon.’
‘Short notice, isn’t it, sir?’
‘You’ve got Crisp, Mick. Just for the week.’
‘Right, sir. Who is he? What is he?’
‘A transfer. Spent most of his time in the drugs squad in Manchester. Came here as sergeant. Good report.’
‘Right, sir. Well, I’ll have to manage, won’t I?’
‘Yes.’
The phone went dead. Angel shook his head and replaced the handset.
There was a knock at the door. ‘Come in.’
It was the young Asian. He came in, closed the door and walked smartly up to the desk.
‘I have to tell you, sir, that Detective Sergeant Gawber is not in the station.’
‘I know that now, lad.’
‘Also, I have to tell you, sir, that there is a lady to see you. Superintendent Harker said that you were the only senior officer available.’
Angel screwed up his face as if someone had trodden on his corn. ‘A lady? What lady? Who is she? What does she want? Do I know her? What’s going on in this place today? The organisation has gone to pot. And it’s Saturday morning. Don’t you realise that, lad? I’m not even supposed to be here!’
Ahmed’s eyes opened wide. ‘I don’t know anything about that, sir. And I don’t know anything about the lady. She’s in reception. That’s all I know, sir. I’m just passing on a message.’
‘When am I supposed to do my own work? I’ve known tins of spaghetti in better order than this. What’s the Duty Officer doing? I’ve more cases than the baggage handlers at Heathrow, and I am not canvassing for any more.’
Angel stood up and sat down again. He shook his head and blew out a l
‘Right, sir.’ Cadet Ahmed Ahaz went out and closed the door.
Angel muttered something, squared up the papers on his desk and dropped them into a drawer. He threw a paper cup at the wastepaper bin, then produced a small notebook in a leather cover from his coat pocket. He found a ballpoint pen and clicked it ready. He stood up and turned to look in the mirror, he straightened his tie and ran his open hand through his dark brown hair. He turned back to the room and pulled up a chair to be as near the end of the desk as possible, angling it towards the window. He always sought to see people’s reactions as clearly as possible.
There was a knock on the door. ‘Come in.’
Cadet Ahmed Ahaz ushered a small lady of about forty-five, into the room. Her small, bright, busy eyes looked around the room. Then she stared at the tall, bulky figure of the Inspector.
‘Miss Miriam Thomas, sir,’ Ahmed closed the door and went over to the chair beyond the metal cupboard.
Angel smiled down at her and held out his hand. ‘Ah, yes. Come in. Please sit down.’
Miriam Thomas came forward to greet him. She had small features, a needle-shaped nose and sharp chin. She was not wearing any make-up and had the slightest growth of fair hair around her mouth and chin. Her hair was dark brown. She was dressed in a long, navy blue raincoat, black stockings and low heeled, black shoes. Strips of the blue dress she was wearing underneath showed around the neck and where the coat dropped open at the knee.
‘I’m Detective Inspector Angel. Now, what can I do for you, Miss Thomas?’
She lowered a big black handbag onto the floor and brought her hands together on her lap. ‘I am in need of help, Inspector.’ She spoke positively and forthrightly and her pleasant sing-song voice soon identified her as being Welsh.
‘That’s what we’re here for, Miss Thomas.’
‘Thank you. I don’t know quite where to begin.’
Angel smiled encouragingly at her. ‘In your own time.’
‘Well, er, I am a nursing sister at the Moorside Mental Hospital for the Criminally Insane at Pontylliath. That’s in Wales.’ She paused and was pleased to see the Inspector making notes.
‘Please go on.’
‘Well, Inspector, my sister, Fiona, has gone missing.’
‘Oh?’
‘It’s a little complicated.’
He pursed his lips. ‘Take your time.’
‘Well, Inspector. If I may explain? You may recall, that twenty-one years ago, a nurse was killed by a patient at that hospital in Pontylliath. The authorities naturally wanted to play it down, but the national newspapers made it front page news, with photographs of the hospital, the murdered nurse and the patient who killed him splashed across the front pages. They ran the most sensational headlines.’
Angel looked up from his writing and rubbed his hand slowly across his mouth. ‘Twenty-one years ago? That’s a long time. Mmm. Maybe I do remember it. I’m not sure. Please go on.’
‘Well, the staff nurse in charge of that ward was accused, in her absence, of withholding medication, not only to the patient who killed the nurse, but also to the fifty other patients in the two wards which were her responsibility. She was working regular nights at the time and was not subject to the more careful supervision that she would be today. Anyway, the reduction in the dose of the sedative that should have been administered to that particular patient resulted in him being unstable and enabled him to kill the nurse. It was judged by the patients’ consultant psychiatrist at the time that the staff nurse was responsible for the death. The victim’s name was Derri Evans.’ She paused, looked down for a second and then up to the policeman and said, ‘I was to have married Derri in the June following his death on 13 May 1981.’
Angel nodded his understanding, ‘I see. Tell me, why did the staff nurse withhold medication from the patients?’
‘For money and for favours. She sold the drugs, the pills, the bandages, the plasters, the syringes, you name it. She stole everything she could lay her hands on and then sold the items. The drugs brought in the greatest sums, of course. When she was on duty, she held the key to the ward pharmacy and she had a free rein. And there was no end to her greed.’
‘Uh huh.’
‘Anyway, that nurse disappeared off the face of the earth. Everybody was looking for her: the hospital authorities; the North Wales police; the newspapers; Derri Evans’ parents. Even her own parents didn’t know where she had disappeared to.’
Angel looked up. ‘I think I remember. There was a campaign run by one of the Sunday papers, wasn’t there? “Have you seen this woman?”’
Miriam Thomas’ eyes brightened. ‘That’s it, Inspector. That’s it. Well, she has not been seen from that day, until my sister, Fiona, who came to Bromersley yesterday for the first time in her life, believed that she saw that woman here. Her name is Violet Rae. Staff Nurse Violet Rae. Fiona phoned me to tell me that she believed she had bumped into her. Unfortunately, I was out. So she left a message on the answerphone to say that she thought she had met her, here in Bromersley and suggested that I come immediately. I suppose she thought that the two of us would be better able to confirm her identity, jointly confront her and report her whereabouts to the police. I phoned my sister on her mobile phone, but there was no reply. Anyway, I caught the first train I could. When I arrived in Bromersley this morning, I went straight to the place where Fiona was staying, and asked for her. The man said that she had left this morning. He said that she had not left a message and he thought that she had said she intended returning home. I must say, Inspector, I would be very surprised if my sister would do that without either waiting for me or leaving a message.’
Angel looked up and pursed his lips. ‘I see. Now what would you like the police to do?’
‘Well, obviously, Inspector, I want you to find that woman.’
‘Understandably, but your sister is not here to tell us her suspicions herself.’
‘I want you to find my sister as well,’ she added urgently.
‘Of course. But if your sister had decided she was mistaken, and that the person she saw was not this Violet Rae, then I expect she would have tried to contact you, was unable to, and is now — at this very moment probably making her way home to prevent you making a fruitless journey.’
The woman shook her head. ‘But she asked me to come, Inspector. She left a message on the answerphone urging me to come.’
Angel looked straight into the woman’s eyes. ‘But she didn’t give you the slightest hint as to where this Violet Rae could be located?’
‘No,’ she replied thoughtfully. ‘I’m sure she would have if she had spoken to me. In fact, I would have asked her. My curiosity would have had to be satisfied. But no, it was only a message on a tape.’
‘Aye, well, perhaps things changed. Maybe she was mistaken and she decided to return home. And as she was leaving Bromersley, you were arriving here; you simply missed each other. It is easy to do. You weren’t able to tell her you were coming, were you?’
‘Well, no, Inspector. But she knew that I would come!’
‘I expect it was a mistake and she has returned home. She’ll be waiting for you in Wales.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘I don’t know.’ Angel pushed back from the desk and rubbed his chin. Then he stared directly at the woman, ‘But, look at it from my point of view, Miss Thomas. All this happened twenty-one years ago, in a different police authority area. There is nobody to corroborate your sister’s possible sighting, and there seems to be room for some uncertainty as to whether this person really is Violet Rae. She isn’t here to confirm anything and you have no supporting witnesses either. Looking at all the facts, there doesn’t seem to be sufficient reason for me to mount an investigation, does there?’
Miriam Thomas’ hand went to her face. She shook her head, her eyes closed.
Angel leaned back in the chair and looked at the ceiling briefly. ‘She didn’t give you the slightest hint where Violet Rae might be? No hint at all?’
‘No, Inspector, I told you.’
