Helen Fields - Perfect Crime

Tripp disappeared out of the flat, looking happy to be away from Ailsa’s disapproving glare.

‘Are you going to answer me or should I guess?’

‘Slipped at Tantallon, bumped myself. No big deal. I’m still standing,’ Ava said, taking off her gloves and unzipping her overalls.

‘You’re limping more than standing. If you fell and bumped your head, how did you hurt your leg?’

‘The leg is actually hurting a bit.’

Ava tried a brief grin. Ailsa didn’t return it.

‘Let me see,’ Ailsa ordered. ‘Come on, in the bedroom.’

‘Ailsa, this is a crime scene, I can’t just …’

‘Bedroom, now,’ Ailsa snapped. ‘I’ve got better things to do than to argue with a stubborn girl who takes too many risks. Now move.’

Ava did as she was told, in part because Ailsa was an old friend of her mother’s and generational correctness was an involuntary response, but also because her leg really was hurting and having someone qualified take a look at it felt like a good call. It was clear from Ailsa’s sharp intake of breath that Ava’s self-diagnosis was right.

‘Is your tetanus shot up to date?’ Ailsa asked.

‘Ummm, should be. I’m sure I’d have been notified if it needed updating,’ Ava murmured.

‘You need antibiotics, straight away, strong ones.’

‘I don’t suppose you can …’

‘I’m a pathologist, Ava. We’ve had this discussion before. I might have stitched you up in the past, but there’s no reason for me to carry a prescription pad. And forget making an appointment with your doctor for next week sometime. You’ll have to go to accident and emergency.’

‘I’ve actually got quite a lot going on. Is there another option?’

‘There is!’ Ailsa replied brightly. ‘You can decide not to do as I say, and get an infection that at best will result in you needing time off work and at worst will require surgical intervention.’ She waited until Ava had done her jeans up again then called Callanach in. ‘Luc, she’s to go directly to the hospital. A & E. Prescription for antibiotics that you’ll have to collect immediately thereafter. Do not let her drive, or change her mind, or fail to take the antibiotics. Who put the Steri-Strips on?’

‘Callanach,’ Ava told him. ‘Don’t be too hard on him. I thought he did a great job.’

‘He did his best with a wound that should have been treated by a doctor immediately. You could have come to me when it happened as an alternative. You’ve done that before. Why not this time?’

Ava and Callanach stared silently at one another.

‘So that’s the way you two are going to play it. Ava Turner, your mother would have wanted me to take better care of you.’

Ava smiled and reached out an arm to hug the woman who’d been like a favourite aunt to her since she’d joined the police force.

‘My mother can rest peacefully, Ailsa. You’re taking perfectly good care of me and we’re headed directly to the hospital, okay? Cross my heart.’

‘Not that I don’t believe you, but I expect you to produce the medication for me tomorrow morning. Understood?’

Ava and Callanach left, with Callanach extending a hand to help Ava to hobble down the narrow staircase.

‘You’d think, now that I’m a detective chief inspector, Ailsa might have decided I’m a grown-up,’ she grumbled.

‘I’m not taking sides in that argument,’ Callanach said. ‘Ailsa’s scarier than you.’

‘Yeah, but I’m your boss, so you’re duty bound to agree with me.’ Ava winced as she climbed into the car and bent her leg. ‘To the hospital then, but we’d better make it quick. We’ve still got a lot to do tonight.’

‘Back to the station to start working on the Hawksmith case?’ Callanach asked.

‘Your place first. You can’t avoid it, Luc. This thing with the nursing home isn’t going to go away on its own. We’re doing all we can for Mrs Hawksmith for now, God help the poor woman.’

They pulled away slowly, neither of them noticing the man who was watching from the window of the chippy across the road, clutching newspaper-wrapped cod that he had no intention of eating. You had to have a death wish to consume that much saturated fat and salt. He smiled at the irony of it and wondered what Mrs Hawksmith looked like now, three weeks after he’d last seen her.

The Royal Infirmary’s emergency department was oddly quiet, but then there was a football match on. Most people would try to avoid serious injury until the pubs were kicking out. Callanach accompanied Ava to reception, knowing she’d play down the extent of the pain if left alone. She showed her badge and explained that time was limited. A nurse appeared immediately and showed them through to a cubicle.

‘I’ll give you some privacy to get undressed,’ Callanach said.

‘Not much point. You saw the wound last night and I’m guessing the sight of me in my underwear won’t be hugely thrilling at the moment. Take a chair and turn your head away.’ She unzipped her jeans and pulled them slowly down over the wound. ‘Shit,’ she muttered beneath her breath.

‘Everything okay?’ Callanach asked, keeping his focus on the sink in the corner.

‘Not really. I should have shaved my legs a fortnight ago. I look like a bloody yeti, and now I’m going to be stitched up by a doctor who’ll assume I’m some washed-up old maid whose idea of a good night is reruns of the TV series The Book Group while I sip vodka and Irn Bru, pretending it’s a proper cocktail because I dropped a maraschino cherry in it.’

A slim, tanned hand appeared and gracefully drew back the curtain to reveal Dr Selina Vega, the only woman in the world who could make a white coat look sexier and more glamorous than a red-carpet gown.

‘Selina,’ Callanach said. ‘That’s a coincidence.’

‘Not really. One of the reception staff recognised you and asked if I wanted to take the case,’ she smiled. ‘Hello, Ava. That’s a nasty cut. Why don’t you lie down so I can get a better look at it.’

‘Er, sure … I think I probably just need a prescription for antibiotics, though. We’re on the clock. It’s good to see you again. You keeping well?’ she asked, horribly aware of the tension between Callanach and his ex-girlfriend, and wondering if tea-party conversation was going to help or make things worse.

‘I’m going to have to clean it out then stitch it. The butterfly stitches aren’t pulling the sides together properly. Left like this you’ll have a serious scar and the underlying tissue will be painful for life.’

‘So it’s a yes to the stitches, then,’ Ava said. ‘Luc, this could take a while. Did you want to go and get a coffee or something? Sorry, Selina, we’ve just come from a crime scene. It’s been a long day.’

‘Sure, I’ll bring you back a tea. Selina, espresso?’

‘Please,’ she nodded, taking various implements from a drawer and pulling a light over the top of Ava’s leg. ‘You need me to anaesthetise you first?’ she asked.

‘Don’t bother. It’s so painful already that you sticking a needle in won’t add much.’

Selina began peeling off the strip stitches and cleaning the wound. Ava watched her dexterous fingers work their magic and wondered how Callanach could have given up such a beautiful creature. They seemed to have so much in common.

‘I was sorry to hear about you and Luc,’ Ava said. ‘Truly. I think you were good for him.’

‘You’ll need a shot of antibiotics to get on top of this infection. There were some small stones and dust stuck in the bottom of the gash. It won’t start healing until the infection’s dealt with. How did it happen?’