Ken McClure - Fenton's winter

Fenton checked with Medical Records and ascertained that the patient Moran had had group AB blood. More checking revealed that Susan Daniels had also had AB blood. A call to the records department at the Eye Pavilion told him that the same had been true for Jamie Buchan.

The conclusion was perfectly simple. Saxon plastic killed people with group AB blood. It totally destroyed the clotting mechanism. Susan Daniels had constantly been in contact with it through the samplers for the Saxon Blood Analyser she had been testing, the patients had had Saxon plastic name tags permanently against their skin, as had Jamie Buchan after Jenny had given him some to play with and the ward maid would have handled Saxon products every day in the ward. It made sense.

On the day that Neil Munro had worked out the problem with AB blood he must have told Saxon and gone down to the Sterile Supply Department immediately to have all Saxon plastic products withdrawn. Saxon must have followed him and pushed him into the steriliser before he had had a chance to tell anyone.

It must have been Saxon personally, decided Fenton, for Neil had told no one else in the lab and he would have gone down to see Sister Kincaid as soon as he had realised what was going on. There would not have been time for Saxon to arrange for someone else to have done his dirty work. Saxon must have done it himself and for that, given half a chance, there would be a reckoning before society had its say.

Tyson was out of the lab at a meeting so Fenton called the hospital secretary, James Dodds, on his own authority. He was asked to wait while a lady with an affected accent checked to see 'if Mr Dodds was available.'

"Dodds here."

"Fenton, Biochemistry, I think you may find this a little difficult to believe…"

Fenton was right, Dodds found it hard to swallow. He indicated his difficulty by making spluttering noises into the phone and other sounds of incredulity.

"You must withdraw all Saxon plastic products at once," concluded Fenton.

"But are you absolutely sure?" protested Dodds.

"Absolutely. There is no madman on the loose in the hospital, it's the plastic."

"But Dr Munro's death?"

"I'll be speaking to the police about that," said Fenton. "But the main thing is to stop the staff using anything made of Saxon plastic."

"Of course, of course," murmured Dodds. "Right away."

Saxon products were withdrawn from circulation, a task accomplished without much difficulty due to the fact that stocks in the hospital were generally low as the initial gift from Saxon Medical had dwindled down to a few weeks supply. More was on order for when they became commercially available but now, thankfully, that would never happen.

Fenton wished that Tyson would return from his meeting for he felt the need of moral support. For the past two hours, ever since his conversation with Dodds, he had done little else but answer the telephone and deal with personal callers who wanted more details. He felt like the Caliph of Baghdad on a bad day but without the power to cut the heads from those who pleaded their case too strongly. If just one more person were to ask him if he was 'absolutely sure'…

"But are you absolutely sure?" asked Inspector Jamieson, making Fenton's foot itch. "Yes, I am sure," replied Fenton through gritted teeth. "But for conclusive proof I have asked the Blood Transfusion Service to provide some group AB blood for us to test."

"Who's bringing it?" asked Jamieson.

"Its owner. It has to be fresh blood. The donor will be coming here."

Jamieson suggested that a police car should be sent to collect the donor so Fenton gave him Kelly's number. He passed it to his sergeant. "See to it will you." He walked over to the lab window and looked out at the greyness. "So we have a plastic murderer," he said, still with his back to Fenton.

"So it seems," said Fenton. He could sense Jamieson's discomfort and could understand it. The man had been hunting a non-existent killer and there would be no glory in this for him, no self effacing media interviews, just another bumbling copper story. But there was still the Munro death. Fenton thought that he could read Jamieson's mind.

"I understand you have some ideas about the Munro death?" said Jamieson.

Fenton said, "I think I know why he was murdered and I think I know who did it." He brought out Neil Munro's notebook and said, "I didn't understand this at first but I do now. It proves that Neil Munro knew that there was a problem with Saxon plastic and, what's more, he had worked out exactly what."

"And you think this is why he was killed?"

"The license for Saxon plastic was worth millions."

"To the Saxon Company," said Jamieson.

"Saxon the company, Saxon the man." said Fenton.

"Point taken."

Charles Tyson came in to the room and broke the spell. He came straight over to Fenton. "I think I owe you an apology," he said.

"Let's just be glad it's over," said Fenton.

"I should have listened to you earlier. I could kick myself."

Fenton said, "You took the only line possible. Besides I was out of my head with worry over Jenny at the time."

Fenton's reference to Jenny had been for Jamieson's benefit. The policeman shifted his weight to the other foot but showed no signs of embarrassment. He said, "Perhaps you will let me know when you have completed the blood tests?"

"Will do," said Fenton.

Tyson asked, "What blood tests?"

Fenton told him about the donor who was on his way.

For Maxwell Kirkpatrick, senior clerk with the Scotia Insurance Company (est. 1864) this was the kind of call he had been waiting for all his life. His previous pinnacle of achievement in becoming secretary of the Grants Hill Church of Scotland Badminton Club (Monday Group) was now dwarfed thanks to a blood group that set him apart from mere mortals.

As the white police Rover with the fluorescent orange stripe squealed through the gates of the hospital and genuflected to the front door Maxwell got out and looked up at the Latin inscription above the stone arch. A missionary zeal shone from his eyes. He didn't understand it but somehow it seemed right. The policemen fired off a two door salute and drove off leaving Maxwell to enter reception. "Good day," he announced in tones that suggested he might also collect cigarette cards and go train spotting, "I understand that…you need me."

Tyson took the blood from Kirkpatrick and handed the full syringe to Fenton who ejected half the contents into a regular test tube and the rest into a Saxon plastic one. The click of the stop watches sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet of the room.

As time passed Kirkpatrick found it increasingly difficult to maintain his expression of expectant interest. His smile began to pucker like a beauty queen held too long on camera and his eyes moved backwards and forwards between Fenton and Tyson as he searched for clues from the pre-occupied men.

"This one has gone," said Tyson quietly. He tapped the side of the tube with his pen to make sure.

"This one hasn't," said Fenton who was monitoring the Saxon tube.

"Completely clotted," said Tyson.

"Quite, quite fluid," said Fenton.

"Game, set and match." said Tyson. He turned to Kirkpatrick and apologised for his rudeness. He explained what they had been looking for.

"Do you mean…there is no patient?" asked Kirkpatrick with an air of disappointment.

Tyson, sizing up the man, assured him that what he had just done would be instrumental in the saving of many lives. Fenton added his agreement and Kirkpatrick beamed. "Just doing what little I could," he said with a downward cast of his eyes.

"We are very grateful," said Tyson. "I'll ask the police to see to it that you are taken where you want to go."