The Things You Didn't See(87)
‘Is he going to be arrested, Leif ?’
‘Now this is completely confidential, you understand, S?tnos? Daniel will be brought in for questioning tomorrow, but the SIO wants the sleeping test on Hector to go ahead as planned. He’s still the main suspect.’
Holly disconnected from Leif, already hearing in his voice that he was regretting his indiscretion. He had called her in a state of excitement, but he had breached every code of ethics by telling her the police’s plan. Not that she was one to judge.
So, Daniel was now implicated, but Hector was still in the picture – could the two of them have colluded to murder Maya?
Clive’s office was in the main part of the Bartlet Hospital – the same side as the locked ward, but towards the middle, thus benefitting from a large bowed window that looked out over the North Sea. Unlike his office at Ipswich Hospital, this was a huge room with very minimal clutter.
‘That’s some view,’ Holly said, walking to the window, and spying the container ships in the distance. The night sky was an inky blue, the moon shimmering a path across the black water.
‘Some mornings I watch the swimmers going to the pier and back. They brave the North Sea even at this time of year.’
She hugged her jumper more closely around her. ‘You’d have to pay me, weather like this.’ She sat in the Lloyd Loom chairs in front of the window, looking around. ‘This really is a grand place, isn’t it? It must have been amazing when it was a hospital for convalescents.’
He chuckled. ‘Oh yes, time is and time was. I found that chair in a store room – remnants from the glory days here, and you should see some of the furniture stacked in there: Edwardian turned-leg tables, daybeds for sitting in the sun! It must have been another world.’
Now it was a secure psychiatric hospital, and Cassandra had been incarcerated here two years ago. Holly wondered how that must have felt, locked away in this house on the hill, with the sea crashing down below like something from a Gothic novel.
‘Tonight feels important,’ Holly said, the room and enveloping night sky making her wistful. ‘By morning we’ll know if Hector has been telling the truth.’
Clive collected up his briefcase and looked at his watch.
‘Let’s hope so, Holly. We should be going across to the lab to see the patient. It’s almost bedtime.’
The sleep lab was on the opposite side of the hospital. Holly followed Clive down corridors and across the poorly lit central courtyard to the more modern part of the building. Their feet echoed, and Holly shivered, thinking that this weekend she really must fish her winter coat out from storage under her bed. She was glad to get inside again – the newer part of the hospital was warmer. They arrived at the double door with the sign SLEEP CLINIC to be greeted by a cheerful, chubby nurse at the reception desk, who told them to wait a moment. Minutes later, a lanky man with a broad smile and thick glasses strode down the corridor, calling jovially, ‘Evening, Clive! Good to see you. And who is this young lady?’
‘Francis Block, meet Holly Redwood, student paramedic. She’s here to observe, as part of her clinical case study assignment. Francis is the sleep technician here at the Bartlet.’
Francis took her hand in his long bony grip and shook it vigorously. ‘Hope you enjoy the show.’
‘Me too.’
‘Has Hector arrived?’ Clive asked Francis, as they walked down the long corridor towards the Sleep Clinic.
‘Half an hour ago, his daughter brought him. He’s completed the paperwork and he’s already wired up to the EEG machine; she’s gone to get a drink in the café. He now needs to relax in order to get the best sleep possible.’ Francis threw open the double doors at the end of the corridor and said, ‘Welcome to our Sleep Clinic, Holly. It’s very impressive.’
He was right. Once through the doors, it was like stepping into a different world from the rest of the hospital: calmer and more opulent, with dimmed lighting, a cosy space against the battering winds outside. Here, the usual antiseptic smell of hospitals was absent, there was lavender in the air. The sleep unit was a six-bay ward, but each bed had been partitioned so it was in its own small area with soft lighting and crisp linen in pastel colours, a side lamp with a simple shade, and enough homely touches to make the space inviting. Each had a vase of gerberas or wild flowers, a woven rug and some art books on a low shelf. She saw the plug-in air freshener that must be the source of the lavender.
‘It reminds me of an Ikea showroom,’ Holly said, ‘with all the touches to make it seem like a real home.’
‘It’s a good imitation, isn’t it?’ agreed Francis. ‘The flowers are plastic, and the books are just empty cardboard, but it looks good.’
Francis showed them into a tiny surveillance room, from where the bay could be seen through one-way glass. There was also a bank of six cameras, each showing a bed. Five beds were empty, so only one screen showed movement as Hector shifted on his mattress. He was lying on top of the sheets in pyjamas, his feet crossed casually at the ankle and his hands rested in his lap. His seemingly relaxed pose was betrayed by his tense frown. He had contact pads stuck on his temples, forehead and chin, with wires leading to a nearby monitor.
‘I’m not sure I could sleep with that on my head,’ Holly said, thinking about Clive’s offer to contact a research team for her, ‘and knowing I was being watched.’