CHAPTER FOUR
Melville-Briggs opened a door on the first floor that overlooked the drive and said to the woman behind the desk, 'these are the investigating policemen, Mrs. Galvin.' He didn't bother to introduce them. 'I believe I mentioned that they require a room?'
She acknowledged this with a nod, and then glanced at Rafferty. 'I imagine you require details of our staff, their duties, hours of work and so on?'
Rafferty nodded encouragingly. Her voice was pleasant; low and musical. She was perhaps in her early thirties. An attractive, delicate-featured woman, there wasn't a strand of dark hair out of place in the ruthlessly neat French pleat, and Rafferty wondered what hidden depths such an outwardly controlled appearance might be concealing. There seemed to be an air of constraint between her and the doctor. Intrigued, Rafferty glanced speculatively at them both, but Melville-Briggs, having made his wishes known, wasted no more of his valuable time, and went out, shutting the panelled door firmly behind him, as much as to say "don't bother me with minor details".
Mrs. Galvin opened the top drawer of the filing cabinet and extracted two thin files and handed them to Rafferty. 'The green file lists all the staff on duty this week and the buff file covers the full complement of staff, from the medical staff through to the cleaners. Though, of course, most of the nursing staff are away on escort duties at the moment. We usually take our patients away for their short spring holiday about this time, so there's only a skeleton staff and a few patients here.'
Rafferty brightened. That was the first glimmer of good news he'd heard all morning. 'And they're all accounted for?' Mrs. Galvin nodded. 'You'll understand that we need to establish the victim's identity as speedily as possible. Have you any idea who she might be? What she might have been doing in the grounds?'
'I'm afraid not. I finish work at five thirty, so have no idea who might frequent the premises after that time.'
There had been a certain distaste in her voice. Rafferty wondered if some of the night staff smuggled in a girlfriend to help the lonely night shift hours pass. He hoped so, and if some of the other staff proved as confiding as the hospital porter, it should make establishing the victim's identity easier. Now, he gave Mrs. Galvin one of his more winning smiles. 'Can you tell me what sort of patients you treat here?'
'We accept a variety of cases, but we specialise in drug-dependency, and most of our patients come into that category.'
'How long do most of them stay?'
'We tend to take in the really hopeless cases, I'm afraid, those that have been assessed and treated unsuccessfully elsewhere and whose psychoses are long-established. You could say we provide a permanent and secure home for the sadder elements of society.'
Few empty beds then, Rafferty mused. Very profitable.
'They lack for nothing,' Mrs. Galvin went on, as though anxious to remove the cynicism Rafferty suspected might be lurking in his blue eyes. 'Perhaps you don't realise that in the grounds we have an extensive range of facilities to keep them happy and occupied? For instance, we have an indoor heated swimming-pool, a Jacuzzi, a gymnasium for our younger clients, and of course we encourage them to develop an interest in gardening—it's a very soothing occupation for disturbed minds, we've discovered.'
As well as making a small saving on gardeners' wages. Rather convenient.
'Do you handle really violent cases at all?' asked Llewellyn, getting to the heart of the matter.
'Occasionally,' she admitted cautiously. 'But the patients are carefully supervised at all times. There is no possible—'
'I'm sure they are,' Rafferty interrupted soothingly. He remembered the patient he had encountered in the grounds, and asked, 'Could you let me have a list of the in-patients?'
Her manner became brisk. 'Not without Dr. Melville-Briggs's authority, I'm afraid. Most of our patients come from very distinguished families and we have to be discreet.'
Rafferty didn't press the point. They could always apply for a court order to release the files if it should prove necessary.
After giving him a searching glance from steady grey eyes, she added, 'You'll find the staff lists clearly marked to show those on sick leave or holiday leave, those on escort duty and so on. All the symbols are explained at the base.
'You keep a tidy filing cabinet, Mrs. Galvin,' Rafferty complimented. 'Really first class.' He thought ruefully of his own untidy and neglected paper work. When this case was over, he resolved, he really must tackle it.
Her grey eyes held a hint of amusement as she remarked, 'It's my job, Inspector; I hope I'm reasonably efficient at it.' She handed over another document with the comment, 'This is a plan of the hospital and its grounds. You might find it helpful.'
Rafferty nodded. 'Would you have a Hospital Yearbook? Dr. Melville-Briggs thought we might find it useful.'
'Really? I can't imagine why, but yes, of course, I have a copy.' She reached over to the book rack on her desk and passed it to him. 'It's this year's.'
'I'm obliged to you. I'll let you have it back as soon as possible.'
She nodded and walked briskly to the door. 'If you'll follow me, I'll show you the room you can use.'
She led them along the corridor and back down the stairs. She opened a door at the far end of the hall and they descended another short flight of steps, though these had no fancy scroll work and were plain and serviceable and were clearly those used by the servants in an earlier era. After negotiating several dusty corridors and interconnecting empty rooms, Mrs. Galvin at last led them to their temporary office.
The room allotted to them was in a rather mouldy smelling semi-basement at the back of the house. Rafferty turned on the light. The naked bulb illuminated a cheerless little box, empty but for half a dozen rickety-looking chairs and a battered table upon which countless schoolboy hands had carved their initials. He guessed that Melville-Briggs had chosen this particular room for them as punishment for not falling in with his wishes over the attempted bribe. Two telephones rested on the table and he picked one up to check that it was working.
'That one has an outside line,' Mrs Galvin told him. 'The grey one is for internal calls. I'll supply you with a list of the various extensions.'
He nodded his thanks before glancing up. There was a small window high up in the wall, but all it illuminated were the cobwebs festooned around it. Rafferty gave a wry smile and murmured, 'Be it ever so humble…'
Mrs. Galvin looked embarrassed. 'Perhaps I could try to arrange something a little more…a little larger.'
Rafferty surmised that her boss was unlikely to take kindly to the idea, especially if, as he suspected, his slanderous accusation against a fellow medical man proved so much hogwash. 'Don't trouble yourself, Mrs. Galvin.' He tried his smile again and this time there was a definite softening in the dark grey eyes. 'This will do us very well, won't it, Sergeant?'
Llewellyn looked around the room with a marked lack of enthusiasm. 'I’m sure it will serve our purpose, Sir.'
His dour tones gave the impression that, once installed in the room, they intended to wield truncheons with vigour and Rafferty winced, half-expecting the Welshman to enquire if it was sound-proofed. But perhaps he was being unduly sensitive, as Mrs. Galvin didn't seem to read any more into the remark.
'If you need anything else, please ask me. I'd rather you didn't trouble Dr. Melville-Briggs.'
Her sentiment echoed Rafferty's. Until they had identified the victim, the less he saw of that gentleman, the better. Gallantly, he escorted her to the door. 'Thanks for your help and I promise I'll try not to trouble the doctor more than strictly necessary. I'm sure he's a very busy man.'
A slight flush tinged her delicately-boned cheeks. 'Oh yes. I think you could say he keeps himself fully occupied.'
Rafferty detected a certain bitter irony in her tone, but at his sharp glance her voice immediately softened.
'He has much with which to concern himself. The patients can be very demanding, and he has to think constantly of their welfare.
'
He'd have to if he wanted his geese to keep laying their golden eggs, was Rafferty's immediate reaction. 'Dedicated type then, is he?' he enquired.
'Dedicated?' Her voice was lightly ironic. 'Oh, yes, I think you could say that. Hence the flat. Lady Evelyn doesn't encourage him to bring his work home.'
Especially not the blondes, brunettes and red-heads, whom Gilbert had more than hinted at. Perhaps the faceless lady would turn out to be one of them.