Anne Perry - A Sudden, Fearful Death

Evan half sat on the table, watching her fingers smoothing and rolling the cloth.

"Have you told Monk yet?" he asked with a smile.

"I haven't seen him since Sunday," she replied.

"What is he doing?" he asked, his voice light but his hazel eyes watching her with brightness.

"I don't know," she answered, piling another heap of bandages on the table beside him. "He said he was going to learn more about various governors on the board, in case one of them had some relationship with Prudence, or her family, that we don't know about. Or even some connection with her in the Crimea, in any way."

Evan grunted, his eyes roaming over the cabinet with its jars of dried herbs, colored crystals, and bottles of wine and surgical spirits. "That's something we haven't even thought of." He pulled a face. "But then Jeavis wouldn't. He tends to think in terms of the obvious and usually he's right. Runcorn would never countenance disturbing the gentry, unless there is no other choice. Does Monk think it's personal, in that way?"

She laughed. "He's not told me. It could be anybody. It seems the chaplain was here all that night-and Dr. Beck…"

Evan's head jerked up. "The chaplain. I didn't know that. He didn't say so when we spoke to him. Although to be honest I'm not sure Jeavis asked him. He was more concerned with his opinion of Prudence, and anybody's feelings about her that the chaplain might know of."

"And did he know of any?" she asked.

He smiled, his eyes bright with amusement. He knew she would tell Monk whatever he said.

"Nothing promising," he began. "Mrs. Flaherty didn't like her, but that's not surprising. The other nurses largely tolerated her, but they had little in common. One or two of the younger ones admired her-a little hero worship there, I think. One of the student doctors seems to have felt rather the same, but she gave him little encouragement." His expression took on a shadow of wry sympathy, as if he could imagine it clearly. "Another one of the students, tall fellow with fair hair that falls over his brow, he didn't like her. Thought she had ambitions above a woman's place." His eyes met Hester's. "Arrogant fellow, he seemed to me," he added. "But then he doesn't care for policemen either. We get in the way of the real work, which of course is his work."

"You didn't like him," she stated the obvious, reaching for another heap of bandages. "But was he in the hospital that morning?"

He pulled a face. "Unfortunately not. Nor was the one who admired her."

"Who was, that you know?"

"About half the nurses, the treasurer, Dr. Beck, Sir Herbert, two student doctors named Howard and Cantrell, Mrs. Flaherty, one of the Board of Governors called Sir Donald MacLean, another called Lady Ross Gilbert. And the front doors were open so anyone could have come in unobserved. Not very helpful, is it?"

"Not very," she agreed. "But then I suppose opportunity was never going to be our best chance for evidence."

He laughed. "How very efficient you sound. Monk's right-hand man-I mean, woman."

She was about to explode in argument that she was most certainly not Monk's hand of any sort when Mrs. Flaherty's thin upright figure appeared in the doorway, her face pink with anger, her eyes brilliant.

"And what are you doing, Nurse Latterly, standing about talking to this young man? You are very new here, and regardless of your friendship with certain well-placed persons, I would remind you we set a very high moral standard, and if you fall below it, you will be dismissed!"

For an instant Hester was furious. Then she saw the absurdity of her morality's being questioned in regard to John Evan.

"I am from the police, Matron Flaherty," Evan said coldly, standing upright. "I was questioning Miss Latterly. She had no alternative but to answer me, as have all the staff in the hospital, if they wish to assist the law rather than be charged with obstructing it."

Color flared up Mrs. Flaherty's cheeks. "Fiddlesticks, young man!" she said. "Nurse Latterly was not even here when poor Nurse Barrymore met her death. If you have not even learned that, then you are hopelessly incompetent. I don't know what we pay you for!"

"Of course I am aware of that," Evan said angrily. "It is precisely because she could not be guilty that her observation is so useful."

"Observation of what?" Mrs. Flaherty's white eyebrows rose very high. "As I have just pointed out, young man, she was not here. What could she have seen?"

Evan affected extreme patience. "Mrs. Flaherty, seven days ago someone strangled one of your nurses and stuffed the body down the laundry chute. Such an act is not an isolated piece of lunacy. Whoever did it had a powerful motive, something which springs from the past Similarly, the memory of that crime, and the fear of being caught, will carry forward into the future. There is much to observe now for those with the ability to see it."

Mrs. Flaherty grunted, looked at Hester her strong face, her slender almost lean figure, very square-shouldered, very upright; then at Evan standing beside the table piled with bandages, his soft wing of brown hair waving off the brow, his long nosed, sensitive, humorous face; and snorted her disbelief. Then she swung on her heel and marched off.

Evan did not know whether to be angry or to laugh; the mixed emotions were plain in his expression.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I did not mean to compromise your reputation. It never occurred to me."

"Nor to me," Hester admitted with a faint heat in her cheeks. It was all so ridiculous. "Perhaps if we meet again, it had better be outside the hospital?"

"And outside Jeavis's knowledge too," he said quickly. "He would not appreciate me giving aid and comfort to the enemy." _ "The enemy. Am I the enemy?"

"By extension, yes." He put his hands in his pockets. "Runcorn still hates Monk and never ceases to tell Jeavis how much more satisfactory he is, but the men still speak of Monk, and Jeavis is no fool. He knows why Runcorn prefers him, and he's determined to prove himself and lay Monk's ghost." He smiled. "Not that he ever will. Runcorn can't forget all the years Monk trod on his heels, the times he was right when Runcorn was wrong, the little things, the unspoken contempt, the better-cut suits, the voice a little rounder." He was watching Hester's eyes. "Just the fact that he tried so often to humiliate Monk, and could never quite succeed. He won in the end, but it didn't taste like victory.

He keeps wanting to bring him back so he can win again, and this time savor it properly."

"Oh dear." Hester rolled the last of the bandages and tied the end. She was sorry for Jeavis, and in a faint equivocal way for Runcorn, but mostly she had a sharp prickle of satisfaction on Monk's account. She was not quite smiling, but very nearly. "Poor Inspector Jeavis."

Evan looked startled for a moment, then comprehension lit his face, and an inner gentleness. "I had better go and see the chaplain." He inclined his head. "Thank you!"

That afternoon Hester was sent for to assist Sir Herbert in an operation. She was told by a large nurse with powerful shoulders, a coarse-featured face, and remarkable eyes. Hester had seen her several times, always with a feeling of unease, and it was only this time that she realized why her eyes were so arresting. One was blue and the other quite clear cold green. How could she have failed to notice it before? Perhaps the sheer physical strength of the woman had so filled her mind as to leave no room for other impressions.

"Sir 'Erbert wants yer," the woman said grimly. Her name was Dora Parsons; that much Hester remembered.

Hester put down the pail she was carrying. "Where?'

"In 'is office, o' course. I s'pose your goin' to take her place then? Or yer think y'are!"

"Whose place?"