Ken McClure: Tangled Web

‘Mrs Lloyd, isn’t it?’ said Gordon. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I’m not sleeping, Doctor. I thought maybe you could give me something?’

‘Nothing easier,’ agreed Gordon then he leaned forward on the desk and said, ‘Any idea why you’re not sleeping?’

‘A lot on my mind, I suppose,’ replied the woman uncertainly.

‘It must be over a year now since Owen died?’ said Gordon gently, remembering that her husband had died of cancer.

The old woman nodded. ‘On the third of last month.’

‘And the boys, do you see much of them these days?’

‘It’s difficult for them. They’ve got jobs and families and it’s such a long way to come up here from Swansea.’

Gordon nodded. He didn’t say anything: he wanted the woman to continue speaking. Instead, she started to cry. Gordon got out of his seat and came round the desk to put an arm round her shoulders. ‘There, there now. Why don’t you tell me all about it? What’s really troubling you?’

‘It’s stupid, Doctor. I can see it is but I just can’t seem to help myself.’

‘What is?’

‘Thomas. He died a month ago and I just can’t stop thinking about him. I know it’s stupid, he was only a cat, but...’

‘It’s not stupid at all,’ said Gordon kindly. He was your cat and you loved him. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

The old woman’s shoulders heaved as she sobbed into her handkerchief. Gordon returned to his side of the desk and took out his prescription pad. ‘I’ll give you something to help you sleep but only for a few nights then I’d like you to consider something else.’

The woman sniffed and pocketed her handkerchief. ‘What’s that, Doctor?’

‘Thomas doesn’t need you any more,’ said Gordon. ‘He’s had his time and now he’s gone. He doesn’t need the care and love you gave him but I suspect a lot of other cats out there do. I think you should at least consider getting another one.’

‘I don’t think I could... not after Thomas.’

‘Just think about it. You don’t have to rush into anything and don’t think of it as a replacement for Thomas. It will be a new cat with a different personality and problems of its own. Promise me you’ll consider it?’

The woman managed a small smile and said that she would. Gordon showed her to the door and pressed the buzzer for the next patient. A man with chronic bronchitis, a retired miner, came in to be given a repeat prescription for antibiotics. He was followed in turn by a middle-aged woman who wanted information about hormone replacement therapy: her sister over in Bangor swore by it. An elderly man with a lump on his elbow was given assurance that it was nothing serious and a younger man with recurrent stomach pains was given something for the pain but referred to Caernarfon General Hospital for further investigation.

Gordon thought he had seen the last of the evening’s patients when a stocky young man with closely clipped fair hair knocked and came into the room. ‘Dr Gordon? DS Walters, sir, North Wales Police, I need to talk to you.’

Gordon invited him to sit. ‘What can I do for you, Sergeant?’

‘I understand that you are John and Lucy Palmer’s GP sir?’

‘I am,’ agreed Gordon, a note of concern creeping into his voice. ‘They’re also good friends of mine. What’s wrong?’

‘It’s their daughter sir, she’s gone missing.’

‘Anne-Marie missing?’ exclaimed Gordon. ‘How can she go missing? She’s only three months old.’

‘She appears to have been kidnapped sir.’

‘Kidnapped! Who’d want to kidnap the Palmer baby for God’s sake?’

‘That’s what we’re trying to establish at the moment, sir. Money’s rarely a motive in cases like this so, although we’re keeping an open mind, we’re not thinking along the lines of kidnap for ransom. We were wondering more if perhaps you or your colleague might know of any woman in the area who’s recently lost a baby... or suffered some kind of upset that might have led to her into taking someone else’s baby?’

‘I see,’ said Gordon, accepting that this would be a more likely scenario. He thought for a moment before saying, ‘No one springs immediately to mind but we’d better ask Julie when she’s through with evening surgery. She should be finished any time now. When did all this happen?

‘This afternoon sir.’

‘In broad daylight? What were John and Lucy doing?’

‘I believe they were building a snowman. Mrs Palmer had put the baby down for an afternoon nap. When she went to wake her up, the bedroom window was open and the baby had gone.’

‘My God, they must be beside themselves with worry,’ said Gordon. ‘I’d better get over there, see what I can do.’

‘There’s a WPC with Mrs Palmer at the moment, sir but you’re right, the couple are pretty upset. She’s their only child I believe?’

Gordon nodded. ‘Have you got anything to go on at all?’ he asked.

‘To be quite honest sir, not at the moment, but Detective Chief Inspector Davies is with the couple, searching for possible motives. Frankly, once money and malicious grudges have been ruled out there’s not much left: we’ll be looking at a disturbed mind, I’m afraid.’

A knock came to the door and Julie Rees put her head round. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you had someone with you,’ she said.’

‘Come in, Julie, we’ve been waiting for you’ said Gordon. ‘This is Detective Sergeant Walters of the North Wales Police. The Palmer baby has gone missing and it looks like she’s been kidnapped.’

‘Julie Rees, an attractive woman in her early forties, smartly dressed in dark green sweater and skirt and still with her stethoscope slung round her neck, looked shocked. ‘Good Lord,’ she exclaimed as she stepped into the room. ‘Where from? How did it happen?’

Gordon let Walters tell her what had happened before saying, ‘The police are thinking along the lines of a disturbed, would-be mother having snatched him for herself. What d’you think? Do we know anyone like that?’

Julie considered for a few moments before saying, ‘I can think of two ladies in the area who’ve had miscarriages recently and there’s been a cot death baby, but honestly I don’t see any of them doing anything like this. That doesn’t mean to say that they weren’t very upset of course, particularly Mrs Griffiths, the cot death mother — it was such a tragic thing to happen — but we’re talking about grief here not psychiatric disorder. Apart from that, all three ladies have supportive husbands and stable homes. Why the Palmer baby? It doesn’t make any sense.’

‘I know,’ agreed Gordon.

‘Why not the Palmer baby?’ asked Walters, wondering whether he was missing something.

Julie and Gordon looked at each other. ‘You don’t know?’ said Gordon.

‘Know what?’

‘Anne-Marie Palmer is quite badly disabled.’

Walters gave a low whistle. ‘I didn’t know that,’ he said. ‘The parents didn’t mention it.’

‘She’s a much-loved baby,’ said Gordon, not liking what he thought might be going through Walters’ mind.

‘Of course, sir,’ said Walters backing off slightly. He turned to Julie. ‘I wonder if I might just get a note of the names and addresses of the ladies you mentioned, Doctor Rees?’

‘Of course,’ shrugged Julie. ‘But I really think you’ll be barking up the wrong tree.’

‘It’ll just be a routine check, Doctor. We have to begin somewhere. It’s what DCI Davies terms, dotting our “i”s and crossing our “t”s — doing all the routine things so that no one can accuse us later of not having done them. I should think it’s probably the same in your job? You carry out a whole series of tests just so no one can say you didn’t do them, so you do them on autopilot while you consider what’s really wrong with your patient.’