Gallery Whispers

37

'You're certain that it's Dr Gopal who's been nicking the diamorphine?' asked Andy Martin.

As he nodded, Brian Mackie's dome gleamed under the fluorescent tubes which lit the Head of CID's office. 'As I see it, there's little doubt about it. He signed for the stuff; it was spread between two wards. We went back out there this morning and interviewed the sisters, and the nurses in charge of the drug trolleys.

'The only way the discrepancy could have arisen was if there had been collusion between at least two of them. But they all know that Margie Berry makes regular checks. Gopal didn't know that; he prescribed the diamorphine and signed for it. Everything points to having kept some for himself then delivered the rest to the wards.'

'How far back did the pharmacist check her records?'

'I asked her to look back over the past year, and to check who signed for drugs issued on prescriptions written by Gopal. There were no other discrepancies; this was a one-off event, a few days before Gaynor Weston died. And a couple of years ago, Gopal was on Nolan Weston's staff.'

'I see,' said Martin, leaning against his window-sill. 'That puts the Professor firmly back in the frame, doesn't it.'

'On the face of it,' Mackie agreed. 'At the very least, it means that we have reason to go and interview him again. Want to come?'

'Not a lot. I will, though, if you want. However I think you should find Dr Gopal before you do anything else. There's aprimafacie case against him, so he should be our priority. Until you've talked to him, anything you say to Weston will be pure supposition. Incidentally, I know we initiated the check, but has the hospital made a formal complaint about the missing drugs?'

'Not as such. But we know about it, so we have a duty to investigate, whether they do or not.'

'Yes, I suppose so. There's no need to be a stickler for the book, but still, I think I'll have Sammy Pye draft a report to the Fiscal, just to cover our legal tails. After all, we are dealing with the theft of a significant quantity of a Class A drug. I take it that Dalkeith was the only hospital to report a discrepancy.'

'Yes, thank Christ,' the superintendent confirmed. 'Right. I'll head off to find Dr Gopal. He lives in the Old Town, apparently.' He paused. 'Before I go; I hope you don't mind my asking you this, Andy, but are you all right?'

Martin glowered at him. 'What makes you think I'm not?' he said, curtly.

'You seem a bit pre-occupied with something. And if that wasn't the case, the fact that you just bit my head off is a good indication.'

The Head of CID shrugged his shoulders. 'Sorry if I hurt your feelings, Brian, but the fact is I'm becoming a bit pissed off with well meaning friends asking me if I'm OK.

'Listen up: I'll tell you this, and then the subject's closed, because I don't like my problems being public property. Alex has moved out, okay. She's saying all the usual things about giving ourselves room to develop as a couple, and yes, maybe to save my own face I'm agreeing with her, making all the right noises and so on.

'She could probably argue that I pushed her into making that decision, but I didn't really think that she would. I don't like it, and privately, I don't agree with all that "growing space" crap, either.'

'Are you still engaged?'

'Oh, she's still wearing the ring, Brian; but only on her finger, if you know what I mean, not in her heart.'

'What's the Big Man saying about it?'

'Nothing: Bob's maintaining a determined neutrality. But I know him better than that. He wouldn't admit it under torture, but deep inside, I reckon he's pleased. He has ambitions, professional ambitions, for Alex, and I suspect he was worried that she might have been giving too low a priority to her career.'

He glanced at Mackie. 'How do you feel about Sheila's career, Brian?'

'It's a fact of our life; it doesn't bother me.'

'But longer term, d'you think it might?'

'Andy,' said the slim detective, 'she and I have only just started living together. Right now, I'd settle for knowing that we have a longer term. We might split up. I might come up against the wrong bloke in the job and get shot. Sheila might get cancer, like poor Olive.

'If you learn nothing else from the Mcllhenneys, you should learn this. Fuck the longer term; concentrate on now, because that's all the certainty you've got, mate.'

Martin sat on the edge of his desk, with a wry smile. 'My trouble is that I'm not certain of anything any more where Alex is concerned.'

'But maybe you're just a selfish bastard where she's concerned.

Think on that.'