William Monk 04 - A Sudden Fearful Death

task for Callandra. He had no idea who had murdered Prudence Barrymore, or why. There were too many possibilities. It could have been anything from a long hatred, frustration, or rejection such as that which must be felt by Geoffrey Taunton, or a mixture of the panic and jealousy which must have affected Nanette Cuthbertson as time passed by and still Geoffrey waited for Prudence and she kept him at bay, neither accepting him nor letting him go.
    Or it could have been another lover, a doctor or hospital governor, a quarrel or an explosion of jealousy; or the blackmail that, according to Evan, Jeavis suspected of Kristian Beck.
    Or if Prudence Barrymore were as opinionated, officious, and authoritarian as had been suggested, then it might as easily have been merely some nurse driven beyond the bounds of self-control by the constant abrasion to her temper and esteem. Perhaps one gibe, one criticism, had been the final straw, and someone had at last lashed out?
    He was almost at the hospital entrance.
    He ran the final few yards and climbed the steps two at a time to be in the shelter at last, then stood in the entrance hall dripping pools of water onto the floor. He turned down his collar and smoothed his lapels and pushed his fingers through his hair in unconscious vanity. He wanted to see Evan alone, but he could not wait for an opportunity to present itself. He would have to look for him and hope he found him without Jeavis. He set out, still trailing water.
    As it happened he was unfortunate. He had planned using the excuse that he was seeking Callandra, if anyone asked him his business. But he almost bumped into Jeavis and Evan as he was going along the corridor and they were standing near the laundry chute.
    Jeavis looked up in surprise, at first suspecting a governor from Monk’s dress, then recognizing his face, and his own expression darkening in suspicion.
    “Hello—what are you doing here, Monk?” He smiled bleakly. “Not sick, are you?” He looked at Monk’s rain-darkened coat and wet footprints, but added nothing.
    Monk hesitated, considering a lie, but the thought of excusing himself to Jeavis, even obliquely, was intolerable.
    “I have been retained by Lady Callandra Daviot, as I daresay you know,” he answered. “Is that the chute down to the laundry room?”
    Evan looked acutely uncomfortable. Monk was tearing his loyalties and he knew it. Jeavis’s face was hard. Monk had driven him onto the defensive. Perhaps that was clumsy. On the other hand, it might only have precipitated the inevitable.
    “Of course it is,” he said coldly. He raised his pale brows. “Is this the first time you’ve seen it? A bit slow for you, Monk.”
    “Don’t see what I can learn from it,” Monk replied edgily. “If there were much, you would have made an arrest already.”
    “If I’d found any evidence anywhere, I’d have made an arrest,” Jeavis said with an odd flash of humor. “But I don’tsuppose that’ll stop you padding around behind me, all the same!”
    “Or the occasional place before you,” Monk added.
    Jeavis shot him a glance. “That’s as may be. But you’re welcome to peer down that chute all you wish. You’ll see nothing but a laundry basket at the bottom. And at the top, there’s a long corridor with few lights and half a dozen doors, but none along this stretch except Dr. Beck’s office, and the treasurer’s office over there. Make what you like out of that.”
    Monk looked around, gazing up and down the length of the corridor. The only definite thing he concluded was that if Prudence had been strangled here beside the chute, then she could not have cried out without being heard had there been anyone in Beck’s office or the treasurer’s. The other doors seemed to be far enough away to be out of earshot. Similarly, if she had been killed in one of the other rooms, then she must have been carried some distance along the open corridor, which might have posed a risk. Hospital corridors were never entirely deserted, as those in a house or an office might be. However, he was not going to say so to Jeavis.
    “Interesting, isn’t it?” Jeavis said dryly, and Monk knew his thoughts were precisely the same. “Looks unpleasantly like the good Dr. Beck, don’t you think?”
    “Or the treasurer,” Monk agreed. “Or someone who acted on the spur of the moment, right here, and so swiftly and with such surprise she had no time to cry out.”
    Jeavis pulled a face and