‘Do you know where?’
Julie shook her head but she got up and went over to a writing desk to open the drawer. She pulled out a series of charts and said, These are Colin’s notes on his work.’
‘May I borrow them?’
Julie handed them over without saying anything.
Bannerman got up to go. He thanked Julie, offered his sympathy again and said, ‘I’ll see that these are returned to you.’
‘How did it go?’ asked Shona when Bannerman got back to the hotel.
‘Not good,’ replied Bannerman. ‘Turnbull never ate mutton or lamb. He didn’t like it.’
‘What rotten luck,’ said Shona. ‘Just as it all seemed to fit together.’
Bannerman smiled wryly and said, ‘That’s the way it goes.’
‘Perhaps he ate it without knowing?’
‘How?’
‘In a stew or a curry or something.’
Bannerman hadn’t considered that possibility but he dismissed it after a little thought. Turnbull ate nothing but what his wife cooked except for lunch-times when he ate sandwiches prepared by her. She wouldn’t have given him something he didn’t like.’
‘I suppose not,’ agreed Shona. ‘Maybe a restaurant meal she forgot about?’
‘If infected meat had been served in a restaurant there would have been lots of cases,’ said Bannerman.
‘So how did he get it?’ asked Shona.
‘I wish to hell I knew.’
FIFTEEN
Bannerman and Shona were sitting in the hotel bar just after ten o’clock when the barman came over to say that Banner-man’s car had been bumped in the car-park by a leaving customer. He didn’t think the damage was great but would he mind taking a look? The driver concerned was waiting for him in the car-park.
‘I don’t believe it,’ said Bannerman. The hire company will have me black-listed if this goes on.’
‘Don’t lose your temper,’ cautioned Shona with a smile.
‘Won’t be long,’ said Bannerman.
He walked round to the hotel car-park and over to his car. The car-park wasn’t well lit — a single lamp was mounted on the back wall of the hotel — but he should have been able to see anyone waiting there. There was no sign. He took a look round the car for signs of damage and failed to see anything. After a second inspection he thought he detected a small scrape on the rear bumper but when he bent down to touch it he found that it disappeared when he rubbed it; it was dirt. He stood up and took another look around the car-park; it remained silent and empty.
Bannerman shrugged his shoulders and decided that the man must have left when he saw that there were no real signs of damage after all. Modern plastic bumpers could take much more in the way of impact than the old metal ones without showing signs of damage. He started to walk back up the lane leading to the front of the hotel when, suddenly, he was gripped from behind and pushed hard up against the wall of the building. His broken nose came into contact with the rough stone and he let out a yelp of pain. Tears welled up in his eyes. ‘Where is Colin Turnbull’s body?’ rasped a voice behind him.
‘I’ve no idea,’ gasped Bannerman, as he fought against having his arms twisted up his back.
‘You were told that Julie Turnbull didn’t want the body interfered with, weren’t you?’ said the voice. The statement was punctuated with another painful jerk on his arms. ‘But that wasn’t good enough for you was it?’
Bannerman let out a gasp of pain and tried to lean forward to take some of the pressure off his shoulder sockets. As he did so a knee came up and caught him between the legs. He cried out and the grip on him was relaxed, allowing him to fall to the ground.
‘Where is the body?’ repeated the voice.
Bannerman thought he recognized it despite the fact that the man was angry and rasping rather than speaking. He turned over and saw his attackers. There were two of them. Mitchell, the security chief, and one of the two power workers who had been plaguing his life. ‘You should bloody know!’ he replied through his pain.
‘What does that mean?’ demanded Mitchell, drawing back his foot as if to kick Bannerman on the ground. Bannerman curled up defensively. When the kick wasn’t delivered he said, ‘What’s this pantomime all about Mitchell? Your lot took it away last night. How do you think I got a face like this?’
Mitchell took a closer look at Bannerman’s face and saw the black eyes and damage to his nose. He seemed lost for words for a moment. ‘Are you trying to tell me that you didn’t have Turnbull’s body removed for pathology?’ he said.
‘Of course I didn’t,’ gasped Bannerman. ‘And you were the only ones interested in preventing me doing that. You have interfered with my work here through every step of the way because you imagine I’m trying to close you down, so what is all this crap about me taking the body?’
‘We haven’t got it,’ said Mitchell. ‘Jesus,’ gasped Bannerman, overloaded with pain and frustration. ‘I don’t believe this place …’ ‘Who else would want it?’ said Mitchell. ‘You,’ accused Bannerman. ‘Why do you keep saying that?’ demanded Mitchell. ‘Julie Turnbull didn’t want you quacks getting your hands on Colin. We’re just seeing that her wishes are respected.’
‘Like hell you are,’ rasped Bannerman. The power worker, the man Bannerman had the run in with in the hotel washroom on the previous evening, moved as if to strike him but Mitchell put out a restraining hand.
Bannerman looked up at the man and said, ‘All the sheep aren’t on the hills are they Mitchell?’
The insult proved too much for the power worker who lashed out with his foot and caught Bannerman in the solar plexus.
Bannerman brought up the contents of his stomach and curled up in agony. Through his pain he heard Mitchell berate the man then turn his attention back to him. ‘If it’s any comfort Doctor,’ he said, ‘I believe you. Perhaps you will believe me when I say that … we haven’t got it either.’ The men left, leaving Bannerman lying on the cobbles.
Bannerman got to his knees and paused for a moment with one hand against the wall of the hotel. He could hear the engine of an approaching car. It slowed and turned into the lane leading from the main street to the hotel car-park. As its headlights swung round they caught him in their glare and the car came to a halt. Bannerman shielded his eyes and heard a car door being slammed as the driver got out.
‘My dear Doctor. What on earth happened?’ asked a friendly voice. It was Joop van Gelder.
‘I was mugged,’ replied Bannerman.
‘This is awful,’ exclaimed van Gelder. ‘Are you hurt badly? Can you stand? Let’s get you inside and then I’ll call the police.’
‘No, no police,’ said Bannerman.
‘But …’
‘Really, no police. It’s personal. Just leave it.’
‘Personal?’ exclaimed van Gelder. ‘You mean you know who did this to you?’
‘Just give me a hand up will you.’
Van Gelder helped Bannerman to his feet and supported him on one side, up the lane leading to the front of the hotel. As they passed the Dutchman’s car, Bannerman saw that there was a man sitting in the front passenger seat. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, alarm bells started ringing in his head. He felt sure that he knew the man but in his present state he couldn’t think clearly enough to put a name to him.
Shona came rushing over as soon as he was through the front door. ‘I was just coming to find you. Just look at you! What happened?’
‘Let’s say there was a misunderstanding over the fate of Colin Turnbull’s body,’ said Bannerman.
‘Come upstairs. Can you manage?’ Shona took over from van Gelder and helped Bannerman upstairs. Van Gelder called after them, ‘I still think you should let me call the police.’
‘No,’ said Bannerman. Thanks for your assistance.’
Shona closed the room door and said, Tell me. What happened out there?’
‘It was Mitchell from the power station and one of his pet monkeys. They thought I had stolen Turnbull’s body to carry out an autopsy.’
They thought you had taken the body?’ exclaimed Shona. ‘But you were sure that they had taken it!’