William Monk 04 - A Sudden Fearful Death

eyes.
    Jeavis drew in his breath, Callandra thought, to ask where that was, then realized even the laundrywomen were watching him, and changed his mind.
    “I see,” he said thoughtfully. “Well now, perhaps you would be good enough to tell me, Doctor, where you wereearly this morning? For example, what time did you come here?” He looked at Kristian inquiringly. “Take a note of it please, Sergeant,” he added with a nod at Evan, who had been watching silently some two or three yards away all through the exchange.
    “I have been here all night,” Kristian replied.
    Jeavis’s eyes widened. “Indeed. And why was that, sir?” He invested it with a great deal of meaning.
    “I had a patient who was extremely ill,” Kristian answered, watching Jeavis’s face. “I stayed with him. I believed I could save him, but I was wrong. He died a little after four in the morning. It was hardly worth going home. I lay down on one of the hospital beds and slept till about half past six.”
    Jeavis frowned, glanced at Evan to make sure he was noting everything down, then back at Kristian. “I see,” he said portentously. “So you were here when Nurse Barrymore met her death.”
    For the first time Callandra felt a sharp flick of anxiety. She looked at Kristian but saw nothing in his face beyond a mild curiosity, as if he did not entirely understand Jeavis’s implication.
    “Yes, it would seem so.”
    “And did you see this Nurse Barrymore?”
    Kristian shook his head. “I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure. I certainly don’t recall speaking to her.”
    “And yet she seems to be very sharp in your mind?” Jeavis said quickly. “You know precisely who she is, and you speak very well of her.”
    Kristian looked down, his eyes full of sadness.
    “The poor creature is dead, Inspector. Of course she is sharp in my mind. And she was a fine nurse. There are not so many people dedicated to the care of others that one forgets them easily.”
    “Isn’t everyone here dedicated to the care of the sick?” Jeavis asked with some surprise.
    Kristian stared at him, then sighed deeply. “If there is nothing further, Inspector, I would like to go about my duties.I have been here in the laundry room nearly two hours. I have patients to see.”
    “By all means,” Jeavis said, pursing his lips. “But don’t go out of London, sir, if you please.”
    Kristian was startled, but he agreed without argument, and a few moments later he and Callandra left the steam and clank of the laundry room and climbed back up the stairs to the main hallway. Callandra’s mind was teeming with things she wished to say to him, but they all sounded officious or overconcerned, and above all, she did not want him to know of the fear that was beginning to rise in her. Perhaps it was foolish. There was no reason Jeavis should suspect Kristian, but she had seen miscarriages of justice before. Innocent men had been hanged. It was so easy to suspect anyone who was different, whether it was in manner, appearance, race, or religion. If only Monk were conducting the investigation.
    “You look tired, Lady Callandra,” he said quietly, intruding into her thoughts.
    “I beg your pardon?” She was startled, then realized what he had said. “Oh no, not tired so much as sad, afraid for what will come next.”
    “Afraid?”
    “I have seen investigations before. People become frightened. One learns so much more about them than one ever wishes to know.” She forced herself to smile. “But that is foolish. I daresay it will all be over quite quickly.” They reached the top of the stairs and stopped. Two student doctors were arguing fiercely a dozen yards away. “Take no notice of what I said,” she went on hastily. “If you have been up most of the night, I’m sure you must wish to rest for a while. It must be nearly time for luncheon by now.”
    “Of course. I am keeping you. I apologize.” And with a quick smile, meeting her eyes for a moment, he excused himself and went rapidly along the corridor toward the nearest ward.
    *  *  *
    It was early evening before Callandra found Monk, and she observed no ceremony, but plunged straight in to her purpose for coming to his rooms.
    “There has been a murder in the hospital,” she said bluntly. “One of the nurses, an exceptional young woman, both honest and diligent. She was strangled, or so it appears, and stuffed into the laundry chute.” She looked at him expectantly.
    His hard gray eyes