Marion Lennox: The Police Doctor’s Secret

Don hesitated, and Sarah could see he was trying to balance his dislike with justice, but obviously he failed.

‘I know sometimes it’s a hard call for the police-whether they chase or pull out,’ he said slowly. ‘But what made it worse was Barry’s attitude. Some reporter gave him a few drinks after the trial and Barry’s on record as saying scum like that deserve everything they get.’

‘Oh, no.’

‘No’s right,’ the publican told her. ‘Especially as the kids came from the most appallingly underprivileged homes. They never had a chance. Anyway, Barry managed to avoid being sacked, but he was demoted and moved to where he was least likely to do media damage. So Dolphin Cove got him. He hates being here and we’d prefer no police at all. He gives the locals a hard time. I’ve got a couple of alcoholics I cope with-when they get drunk on my patch I pick ’em up and take them home. But Barry enjoys tossing them into jail. They’re fined, and who suffers from that? Their wives and kids-who go without anyway. And kids petrol-sniffing… Instead of giving them a clout on the ear and a lecture, Barry sends ’em to Cairns. To juvenile detention. They come back little criminals in the making. But meanwhile…’ He touched his arm and grimaced. ‘You’re sure you can do this?’

Sarah nodded. She looked at Alistair. ‘And you?’

He nodded back. He looked bemused, she thought. Out of his depth. Which was good. He’d hurt her so much. It was good to have the boot on the other foot for a change, even if it was for such a minor instance. ‘If you’re sure,’ he told her. ‘And if Don trusts a stranger.’

‘She’s no stranger,’ Don said soundly. ‘She’s got the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen in a woman. Or in a man, either, for that matter. She looks a friend to me. So I’ll lie back and think of England and let you two do your worst.’

THE publican’s arm was harder to fix than they’d thought, though Alistair had the equipment-‘In an emergency I call in the Flying Doctor for help, and I have a fully equipped theatre with all the drugs in case there’s someone here to help me.’

He made everything ready as Sarah did a careful examination and took a history. To give an anaesthetic without doing both was stupid.

And that was where she found problems.

The man was seriously overweight. She listened to his chest and then quietly signalled to Alistair that she wanted to see him outside.

‘I need advice,’ she told him. ‘That chest almost sounds asthmatic. It’s scaring me. My anaesthetics is basic. I don’t want him dying of a dislocated shoulder.’

‘Do you want to call it off?’ Alistair asked, but she shook her head and turned to the nurse.

‘Claire, can you set up a phone link with the duty anaesthetist in Cairns?’

Two minutes later the anaesthetist from Cairns was on the line. He listened as she outlined the problem while Alistair watched on.

‘Okay.’ She asked him to repeat his instructions twice for good measure and then replaced the receiver. She thought it through. Finally she looked up at Alistair.

‘I can do this,’ she told them. ‘Now I can. I’ve gone over the dosage. It’s a really fast anaesthetic. We go in fast. Alistair, the advice is that if you have problems then we reverse the anaesthetic and give up-straight away-but we’ll give it this one shot. The anaesthetist says we should have no problems. Once the muscles are relaxed everything should fit in easily.’ Her eyes held Alistair, questioning. ‘If you’re okay with it?’

‘Believe it or not,’ he said, holding her gaze with a look that was disconcertingly direct, ‘I’m more confident now than I am before you conceded you had problems.’

They started.

She injected and started intubation. The theatre was hushed apart from the gentle whoosh-whoosh of the bagged air. The big man was unconscious, every muscle slumping.

‘Go,’ she muttered.

Alistair gave her one last questioning look. She nodded. He took the man’s arm, pulled downward, outward, twisting…

The shoulder clicked back into place.

‘Well done,’ Alistair said softly as she started the reversal, and she flushed.

‘You mean well done for not knowing what to do?’

‘No. I mean well done for admitting you were unsure before we ran into serious trouble.’ He glanced up at her and smiled. ‘I wouldn’t have thought it of you.’

‘Was I so arrogant when you knew me?’

Her tone must have sounded…sad? Wistful? She bit her lip and turned back to her dials, but she was aware that Alistair’s eyes were on her.

‘No,’ he said softly, and his smile faded. ‘No. Grant was arrogant. I just…I always group you together.’

‘It must be nice to be so certain,’ she said shortly, and she felt rather than saw his brows come together in confusion. ‘Concentrate on your work,’ she snapped.

‘My work here is done,’ he told her, and the confusion on his face was mirrored in his voice. ‘Thanks to you.’

Finally, with the publican recovering nicely, and his wife and three of his seven kids sitting round his bedside waiting for him to wake up properly and tell them all about it, Sarah decided they were free to part. Which was what she desperately wanted.

‘I need to sort these blood samples,’ Sarah told him. She was still feeling discomfited. Alistair’s presence-what he’d said-there was too much to ignore. She wanted him to go away so she could concentrate on her work.

But it wasn’t going to happen.

‘I’ll help you.’

‘I don’t need help.’

‘If it’s a police case then you’re going to need an independent witness to verify your findings.’

‘You can look at the tarpaulin in the morning.’

‘Let’s do it now.’

Which made it worse. Not only was he disconcerting and upsetting, he was far too close.

Using the kit she’d brought with her, she worked with the scrapings and he was right at her shoulder. She found it so hard to concentrate it was almost impossible. But at least what she found was straightforward.

‘There’s been at least two bleeders,’ she told him. ‘I have an AB and an A blood group.’ She flicked through a few more slides. ‘There’s a lot more of the AB.’

‘So we have two people.’

‘We have two people who bled. We might well have half a dozen people.’

Alistair stood back and looked down at the tarpaulin. They’d spread it out over the floor. The blood spatters were all over it.

‘This isn’t minor. Someone’s lost a huge amount of blood.’

‘So maybe they’re already dead.’ Sarah turned and looked down, too. It was a mute object. A tarpaulin. It should be able to speak, she thought. How had that blood appeared? Who did it belong to and where were they now?

‘You’d think they’d consider their lives more important than a few bags of heroin,’ Alistair said, and she knew he was thinking exactly the same thing as she was.

‘Our pilot swallowed condoms full of heroin,’ she whispered. ‘What a risk…’

‘And these people are risking everything as well. By smuggling drugs.’

‘Not necessarily.’ She shook her head. She’d stayed in her theatre gown but had discarded her cap. The same with Alistair. They were robed all in green. It should have helped make this more of a professional relationship-and maybe it did-but there were still undercurrents she couldn’t do a thing about. ‘There’s something else.’

‘What?’

‘Why would they have flown right out here?’ she asked. ‘Dolphin Cove is hundreds of miles from anywhere. Let’s assume they’ve brought back a stash of heroin from Thailand. What would they want to do with it? The answer is easy. They’d want to sell it. Fast. They might want to keep it for a while and sell it in small lots, but even so…why bring it all the way to Dolphin Cove? And were they heading specifically for Dolphin Cove?’