William Monk 04 - A Sudden Fearful Death

softly. “Don’t …”
    He opened his mouth as though to remonstrate, then realized its uselessness. He stared down at the dead woman’s body, his eyes filled with sadness. “Why would anyone want to do this to her?” he said helplessly. Without thinking, Callandra put her hand on his arm, gripping it gently.
    “We can’t know yet. But we must call the police. It seems to be murder.”
    One of the laundrywomen turned around, perhaps her attention caught by the skivvy, who was beginning to shriek again, and she saw the arm of the dead woman above the edge of the laundry basket. She came over and gaped at the corpse, then screamed.
    “Murder!” She drew in her breath and screamed again, piercingly, her voice high and shrill even above the hiss of steam and clatter of pipes. “Murder! Help! Murder!”
    All the other women stopped their work and crowded around, some wailing, some shrieking, one slithering to the floor in a faint. No one took any notice of the skivvy.
    “Stop it!” Kristian ordered sharply. “Stop this minute and go back to your work!”
    Some power in him, some tone or manner, caught their innate fear of authority, and one by one they fell silent, then retreated. But no one returned to the coppers or the piles of steaming laundry gradually cooling on the slabs and in the tubs.
    Kristian turned to Callandra.
    “You had better go and inform Sir Herbert, and have him call the police,” he said quietly. “This is not something we can deal with ourselves. I’ll stay here and make sure no one disturbs her. And you’d better take the skivvy, poor child, and have someone look after her.”
    “She’ll tell everyone,” Callandra warned. “No doubt with a great deal added. We’ll have half the hospital thinking there’s been a massacre. There’ll be hysterics and the patients will suffer.”
    He hesitated a moment, weighing what she had said.
    “Then you’d better take her to the matron and explain why. Then go and see Sir Herbert. I’ll keep the laundrywomen here.”
    She smiled and nodded very slightly. There was no need for further words. She turned away and went to where the skivvy was standing, pressed up against the capacious form of one of the silent laundrywomen. Her thin face was bloodless and her skinny arms were folded tightly around her body as if hugging herself to keep from shaking so violently she would fall over.
    Callandra held out her hand toward her.
    “Come,” she said gently. “I’ll take you upstairs where you can sit down and have a cup of tea before you go back to work.” She did not mention Mrs. Flaherty; she knew most of the nurses and skivvies were terrified of her, and justly so.
    The child stared at her, but there was nothing awe-inspiring in her mild face and untidy hair and rather comfortable figure in its stuff gown. She bore no resemblance whatever to the thin fierce person of Mrs. Flaherty.
    “Come on,” she said again, this time more briskly.
    Obediently the child detached herself and followed a step behind as she was accustomed.
    It did not take long to find Mrs. Flaherty. All the hospital knew where she was. Word ran like a warning whenever she passed. Bottles were put away, mops were pushed harder, heads bent in attention to labor.
    “Yes, your ladyship, what is it now?” she said grimly, her eyes going to the skivvy with displeasure. “Not sick, is she?”
    “No, Matron, only badly frightened,” Callandra answered. “I’m afraid we have discovered a corpse in the laundry chute, and this poor child was the one who found her. I’m about to go to Sir Herbert and have him fetch the police.”
    “Whatever for?” Mrs. Flaherty snapped. “For goodness sake, there’s nothing odd about a corpse in a hospital, althoughfor the life of me, I can’t think how it got to be in the laundry chute.” Her face darkened with disapproval. “I hope it is not one of the young doctors with a puerile sense of what is amusing.”
    “No one could find this amusing, Mrs. Flaherty.” Callandra was surprised to find her voice so calm. “It was Nurse Barrymore, and she has not died naturally. I am going to report the matter to Sir Herbert and I should be obliged if you would see to this child and make sure she does not unintentionally cause hysteria by speaking of it to others. It will be known soon enough, but for the meantime it would be better if we were prepared for it.”
    Mrs. Flaherty looked startled. “Not naturally? What do you mean?”
    But