Ken McClure: Chameleon

Sue made a face.

'If you can't face it tonight I can tell them that but the sooner they get on with catching that lunatic the better, so anything you can tell them…'

'Can you stay with me?'

'We could make that a condition,' said Jamieson.

'All right. I'll see them now. Correction, we'll see them now.'

Jamieson left the room to tell the Staff Nurse in charge of the ward that Sue had agreed to talk to the police provided that he was allowed to stay with her. He waited in the duty room until the two police officers came up the stairs and introduced themselves to him. He was pleased to find that they both seemed decent, sympathetic individuals but he still felt he should remind them of what Sue had been through.

'We do understand sir,' said the inspector. 'We'll be as brief as we possibly can.'

Sue told the police about the man in the store and the subsequent train of events.

'You say that he said he wanted revenge?' asked the inspector.

'That's what he said.'

'But he didn't say for what or give any indication?'

'No.'

'And you say you have never seen this man before?'

'No. Apart from on the bus down.'

The policemen looked at each other. 'The bus down?' asked the inspector.

'Yes, he was on the same bus into town. He got off where I did.' said Sue as if this had been an irrelevant detail.

'You didn't say anything about that earlier,' said Jamieson.

'Didn't I? Sorry.'

Mrs Jamieson, this is very important. Did you happen to notice where this man got on the bus?' asked the inspector.

Sue shook her head and apologised. 'No, I didn't.'

'Did you look out the bus window on the way into town Mrs Jamieson?'

'Yes I did.'

'But you don't recall seeing this man get on the bus?'

'No.'

'Is it possible that he was on the bus when you got on?'

'But I got on here at the hospital,' said Sue. 'It's the terminus.'

'So it is,' agreed the policeman. 'Were there any people sitting on the bus when you got on?'

'Quite a few.'

'Is it possible that he was among them?'

'I suppose so,' said Sue. 'I didn't pay much attention to the people sitting inside when I got on. I just went straight upstairs.'

'Thank you Mrs Jamieson.

Jamieson saw what the police had been getting at. The man had not just suddenly appeared at the store down town. He had followed Sue and what was more, it seemed likely that he had done so from the hospital.

'There's something else,' said Sue.

'Go on Mrs Jamieson.'

'He was wearing a disguise,' said Sue.

'A disguise?'

'His hair was a wig. I saw that when he was close to me at the garage and his moustache was false. It had started to come adrift at one of the corners.'

The inspector continued his recap. 'He was a large man, heavily built.'

Sue nodded.

'If you forget about the hair and the moustache can you think of any man you've come across recently who has that build?'

Sue shook her head and said, 'I've been thinking about that a lot but no, I can't think of anyone. I hardly know anyone in this city!' she added.

'And you sir?' the policeman asked Jamieson. 'Does that description mean anything to you?'

'Not off-hand.' said Jamieson with a shake of the head.

'Strange,' said the inspector. 'It's pretty clear this man was not our celebrated ripper. He wasn't too interested in your wife at all, apart from using her as a tool to get at you. For some reason he wanted to get at you very badly sir. Can you think why anyone should feel that way?'

'No Inspector. I can't.'

Phillip Morton came in to the room and insisted that the interview come to an end. Sue had to be allowed to sleep. The policemen didn't argue. They thanked Sue and Jamieson for their co-operation and left. Jamieson had a few moments alone with Sue before he too left the room and returned to the residency with Clive Evans.

'You look as if you could do with a drink,' said Evans.

'I could do with ten,' replied Jamieson.

'We could go out?'

Jamieson did not take much persuasion. 'Good idea,' he said.

Jamieson had downed two large whiskies before he noticed that Evans was drinking only orange juice. 'You don't drink?' he asked.

'Nothing stronger than this,' replied Evans tapping his glass, a legacy of Chapel days in the valleys.

Jamieson smiled. 'Very wise.' He drained his own glass.

'Let me get you another,' said Evans.

'Not if you're not drinking,' protested Jamieson but Evans ordered a whisky for him anyway. 'You have had one hell of a day. Call it medicinal. Half our patients do.'

Jamieson accepted the drink and admitted to himself that the whisky was doing him good. He had been under almost unbearable stress for the past few hours and now, for the first time, he felt himself start to relax.

'What are your plans now?' asked Evans.

'When Sue feels better we'll go back to Kent and have some time off together. Ideally, I'd like to take her away on holiday somewhere. We'll see. Either way we should be gone by the end of the week and I can't say I'll be sorry to see the back of this place.'

'The hospital or the city?'

'Both.'

'I can understand that,' said Evans. 'You have not had the easiest of times.'

'None of us have in this mess.'

'Well, it's over now,' said Evans.

'Thank God,' said Jamieson. 'Damn, I meant to check on the re-sterilising of the instruments and dressings from Gynaecology.'

'It's all right, I did it. Every single item has been autoclaved and returned under fresh seal.'

'Thanks,' said Jamieson. 'I wish you would let me buy you a drink.'

'You can send me some strawberries from Kent when the season arrives,' said Evans.

'That's a promise.'

Surgery recommenced in the Gynaecology Department of Kerr Memorial on Wednesday with a full operating schedule designed to make inroads into the waiting list. There were no post-operative problems at the end of the day or on the following two days and by the time Jamieson and Sue came to leave the hospital on Saturday morning everything seemed to be back to normal. Hugh Crichton saw them off and wished them well and, holding a document case over his head with one hand to protect his skull from the rain, he held the driver's door open for Sue to get in. Jamieson's arm, although out of the sling, had not recovered sufficiently for him to undertake the strain of a long drive.

Jamieson looked back as they drove through the hospital gates and then looked at Sue. 'Feel good to be going?' he asked.

'Do you really need an answer to that,' said Sue.

As they sped south on the motorway Sue said, 'Have you had any more thoughts about the man in the wig?'

'A lot of thoughts but no answers,' replied Jamieson. 'You?'

Sue paused while she concentrated on finding a suitable moment to pull out and overtake the lorry in front. When they were safely past she said, 'I think he was homosexual.'

'What makes you say that?'

'He put his hand up my skirt at one point.'

'And that makes him homosexual?'

'He did it to frighten me — and he did — but I could see from the look in his eyes that he got no kick out of it. He could have been twisting my wrist.'

'Maybe you should tell the police that.'

'It's not exactly evidence is it? And maybe it's not even important. It doesn't help to explain why he hates you or why he wanted to hurt you so badly.'

'I suppose not.'

'Does it worry you?'

'Of course,' said Jamieson. 'Particularly because I don't understand it. I can't imagine what I could possibly have done to make someone feel that way about me and yet, someone obviously does.'

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes then Sue asked, 'When will you go to see the Sci-Med people?'

'I'll go into London on Monday if that's all right with you? The sooner I make my report the better.'