Gallery Whispers

60

'Who do you bank with, Sarah?' Clan Pringle asked.

'The Bank of Scotland. But before I was married I was with the Royal. Why d'you ask?'

'I've decided to change mine. Are they okay?'

'Yes, both of them, as far as I'm concerned.'

'Thanks. I'll bear that in mind. Now, what have you got to tell me?'

'First of all, let me ask you something. How closely did your ME at the scene look at the body?'

'He just pronounced life extinct and gave me a probable cause.

That was all I asked him to do. I saw no reason for anything more.'

'Mmm,' said Sarah. 'No harm done, but if he had looked a little closer, he'd have seen that the deceased was wearing a colostomy bag.'

'What does that mean?'

'In this case, Clan, it means that he had cancer of the bowel. He had most of it removed at some point. The survival rate from colonic cancer is better than some forms, but not for this man. Mr Murray had secondaries in his liver and bladder, plus a developing spinal tumour which must have been approaching the unbearable stage. I'm slightly surprised that a man in this condition was still at home.'

'I see,' murmured Pringle. 'Would he have been given drugs to control the pain?'

'Almost certainly. The drugs in his system didn't kill him though.

In this case the injection rendered him unconscious and he suffocated.

Your ME's probable cause was absolutely right. That's what's going to give you all a headache, I'm afraid.'

'Eh? How come, if it's as simple as that?'

'Two reasons. First of all, I don't think this man would have had the strength to tape the bag so that it was airtight. Second, he didn't inject himself; someone else did. The syringe went into the right thigh; I've traced the angle and there's no way that dying man could have administered that shot himself.'

Pringle whistled down the telephone. 'Is that right?' he paused for a moment or two. 'So how does that give us a headache? We've got a murder investigation on our hands. That's a bugger, I know, but routine.'

Sarah laughed, sharply, the unexpected sound making the divisional commander hold his phone away from his ear. 'Ah,' she exclaimed, 'but have you? I can't say for certain, not under oath, that Mr Murray didn't fix that bag on himself. And it was the bag that killed him, remember, not the injection. So was it a murder or was it a suicide? I don't see how you'll ever prove either way, until you find the person who gave him that shot, and persuade them to tell you what happened.'