P James - Shroud for a Nightingale

The Matron said: “It’s rather frightening how much people get to know about each other’s habits in a small closed community like this. But, of course, it’s inevitable. There’s no real privacy. How can there be? I knew about the whisky, of course, but it hardly seemed my business. The girl certainly wasn’t an incipient alcoholic and she wasn’t handing it out to the younger students. At her age she was entitled to her own choice of nightcap.”

Dalgliesh asked how the Matron had learned about the whisky.

“Nurse Pearce told me. She asked to see me and gave me the information in a spirit of I don’t want to tell tales but I think you ought to know‘. Drink and the devil were one and the same to Nurse Pearce. But I don’t think Fallon made any secret of the whisky drinking. How could she? As I said, we know about each other’s little habits. But there are some things, of course, that we don’t know. Josephine Fallon Was a very private person. I can’t give you any information about her life outside the hospital and I doubt whether anyone here can.”

“Who was her friend here? She must have had someone she confided in, surely? Isn’t that necessary for any woman in this kind of closed community?”

She looked at him a little strangely.

“Yes. We all need someone. But I think Fallon needed a friend less than most She was remarkably self-sufficient If she confided in anyone it would be Madeleine Goodale.”

The plain one with the round face and large spectacles?“

Dalgliesh recalled her. It was not an unattractive face, mainly because of the good skin and the intelligence of those large gray eyes behind the thick horn rims. But Nurse Goodale could never be other than plain. He thought he could picture her future; the years of training willingly endured, the success in examinations; the gradually increasing responsibility until, at last, she too was a Matron. It was not unusual for such a girl to be friendly with a more attractive woman. It was one way of gaining at least a vicarious share in a more romantic, less dedicated life. As if reading his thoughts, Miss Taylor said:

“Nurse Goodale is one of our most efficient nurses. I was hoping that she would stay on after her training to take a post as staff nurse. But that is hardly likely. She’s engaged to our local vicar and they want to marry next Easter.”

She glanced across at Dalgliesh a little maliciously.

“He is considered a most eligible young man. You seem surprised. Superintendent”

Dalgliesh laughed: “After over twenty years as a policeman I should have learnt not to make superficial judgments. I think I had better see Nurse Goodale first I understand the room you’re making available isn’t ready yet I suppose we could go on using the demonstration room. Or are you likely to be needing it?”

“I would prefer you to see the girls somewhere else if yon would. That room has very unhappy and dramatic memories for them. We’re not even using it yet for teaching demonstrations. Until the small visitors’ room on the first floor is ready I’d be happy for you to interview the students here.”

Dalgliesh thanked her. He replaced his coffee cup on the table. She hesitated, then said:

“Mr. Dalgliesh, there’s one thing I want to say. I feel-I am- in loco parentis to my students. If ever any question… if you should begin to suspect that any one of them is involved, I can rely on you to let me know? They would then need protection. There would surely be the question of getting a solicitor.” She hesitated again:

“Please forgive me if I’m being offensive. One has so little experience in these matters. It’s just that I shouldn’t like them…”

To be trapped?“

To be rushed into saying things which might quite wrongly incriminate them or other members of the staff.“

Dalgliesh found himself unreasonably irritated.

“There are rules laid down, you know,” he said.

“Oh, rules! I know there are rules. But I’m sure you are both too experienced and too intelligent to let them hinder you over much. I’m just reminding you that these girls are less intelligent and in such matters not experienced at all.”

Fighting his irritation, Dalgliesh said formally:

“I can only tell you that the rules are there and that it’s in our interests to keep them. Can’t you imagine what a gift to the defending counsel any infringement would be? A young unprotected girl, a student nurse, bullied by a senior police officer with years of experience in trapping the unwary. Enough difficulties are placed in the path of the police in this country; we don’t voluntarily add to them.”

She flushed and he was interested to see the wave of color sweep from her neck over the pale honey glowing skin making her look momentarily as if the veins ran with fire. Then, instantaneously, it passed. The change was so sudden that he couldn’t be sure that he had actually seen that tell-tale metamorphosis. She said composedly:

“We both have our responsibilities. We must hope that they don’t conflict In the meantime you must expect me to be as concerned with mine as you are with yours. And that brings me to some information which I have to give you. It concerns Christine Dakers, the student who discovered Nurse Fallon’s body.”

She described briefly and succinctly what had happened during her visit to the private ward. Dalgliesh noted with interest that she made no comment, offered no opinion, and attempted no justification of the girl. He didn’t ask her whether she believed the story. She was a highly intelligent woman. She must know that what she had handed him was the first motive. He asked when he would be able to interview Nurse Dakers.

“She’s sleeping now. Dr. Snelling, who is in charge of the nurses’ health, is to see her later this morning. He will then report to me. If he agrees, it should be possible for you to see her this afternoon. And now I’ll send for Nurse Goodale. That is, if there is nothing more I can tell you?”

“I shall need a great deal of information about people’s ages, backgrounds and the time they’ve been at the hospital. Won’t that be on their personal records? It would be helpful if I could have those.”

The Matron thought. Dalgliesh noticed that when she did so her face fell into absolute repose. After a moment she said “All the staff here have personal dossiers, of course. Legally these are the property of the Hospital Management Committee. The Chairman won’t be back from Israel until tomorrow evening but in consult the Vice-Chairman. I imagine that he win ask me to look through the records, and if they contain nothing private which is irrelevant to your inquiry, to pass them over.”

Dalgliesh decided that it would be prudent not to press for the moment the question of who should decide what was irrelevant to his inquiry.

He said: “There are personal questions I shall have to ask, of course. But it would be a great deal more convenient and would save time if I could get the routine information from the records.”

It was strange that her voice could be so agreeable and yet so obstinate.

“I can see that it would be a great deal more convenient; it would also be a check on the truth of what you are told. But the records can only be handed over under the conditions I have just stated.”

So she was confident that the Vice-Chairman would accept and endorse her view of what was right And undoubtedly he would. Here was a formidable woman. Faced with a tricky problem she had given the matter thought, come to a decision and had stated it firmly without apology or wavering. An admirable woman. She would be easy to deal with as long, of course, as all her decisions were as acceptable as this.

He asked if he might use the telephone; recalled Sergeant Masterson from his supervision of the preparation of the small visitor’s room to serve as an office; and prepared himself for the long tedium of the individual interviews.