White raised his eyebrows at Spicer, who gave an expansive shrug.
‘I’m sorry, Inspector, but you can’t expect me to comment on paranoid delusions.’
‘I don’t,’ said White. ‘And it’s Detective Chief Inspector.’
‘Sorry,’ said Spicer. ‘I’m just getting a little bit fed up with you seeming to believe everything this clearly delusional student has told you, however bizarre.’
‘Oh, we didn’t believe it!’ said White. ‘Not one little bit!’
Spicer looked surprised for the second time and White went on, ‘That’s why DS Williams here took it upon himself to see if his story was supported by any physical evidence.’
DCI White waited for Spicer, but when the young doctor said nothing, he continued. ‘And it was. Apart from the bicycle and the evidence in the car park, DS Williams discovered that you used your dissecting-room code twice last night – once at 11.45 and again at 11.57.’
Spicer stared at White for a long moment. ‘That’s not true. Someone else must have stolen it. Patrick no longer had a code; it was suspended when he was expelled. He had to get in somehow. Why don’t we ask him? Why don’t we get him in here and ask him a few questions? I don’t see why I should have to sit here and listen to all these accusations and insinuations without my accuser being present.’
‘Patrick Fort is no longer in our custody,’ said DCI White.
‘Well, whose custody is he in?’
‘Nobody’s.’
Spicer looked stunned.
‘What? He cut off a man’s head and you let him go?’
‘Wasn’t that what you wanted?’ said Williams.
‘No! I mean, not now I hear all this other stuff. Now it seems he’s more crazy than I thought.’
‘Well, you’re the doctor, of course,’ said White. ‘But, all things considered, we felt there was no need for anything stronger than a caution.’
‘That strikes me as very odd.’
‘Well, we’re all capable of odd things at times, Dr Spicer, wouldn’t you agree?’
Spicer frowned. ‘I’m not sure I would.’
‘Anyway,’ continued White, ‘before he left, Patrick told us that he thought it was possible that Mr Galen here died after being force-fed a peanut, to which he was dangerously allergic.’
Spicer made a sound that was a cross between a bark and a laugh. ‘That’s ridiculous! Look, Detective Chief Inspector, this is a mentally disturbed student who spent two days a week for six months doing a pretty poor job of learning anatomy. He wasn’t even doing medicine! And he was expelled for discreditable behaviour. Now you’re relying on his diagnostic expertise?’
‘Mr Galen’s allergy was clearly stated on his hospital notes. To which you had access.’
‘Along with many other people,’ said Spicer.
‘I’m told – and I’m sure you’ll correct me if I’m wrong – that anaphylactic shock can cause death by the swelling shut of the airways. And that such swelling would subside to the point of being almost undetectable after death.’
Spicer shrugged.
‘Is that possible?’ asked White.
‘Many things are possible.’
White went on, ‘Forensics haven’t yet found any evidence of a peanut, but they say that gouges in the palate and throat of Mr Galen were likely to have been made very shortly before his death. If there were a peanut in Mr Galen’s throat – and I’m sure other students will remember if that was the case – then it’s possible that somebody tried to retrieve it as he was dying. And that that alone could have led to something called…’ He looked down at his notes in a show of getting it right. ‘Vagal inhibition. Have you heard of it?’
‘Of course,’ snapped Spicer.
‘Oh,’ said White. ‘I hadn’t. Apparently pressure on certain parts of the body, or extreme shock, can cause such a sudden drop in blood pressure that the heart simply stops beating. It fails.’ He made a helpless gesture with his hands. ‘Heart failure, Dr Spicer.’
‘Yes?’ said Spicer.
‘Which is what you wrote on Mr Galen’s death certificate.’
Spicer stared at him for a long, long time.
‘I don’t remember,’ he said tightly. ‘I’ve signed a lot of death certificates.’
‘I’m sure you have,’ said White. ‘We’ll take a look at those, too.’
‘What are you saying?’ Spicer stood up, angry at last. ‘If I’m being accused of something, then say so. And if I’m not, then I’m going home.’
White and Williams remained seated and looked up at him calmly.
‘Sit down please, Mr Spicer,’ said White. ‘We’re nearly finished.’
Spicer stood for a moment longer, then sat.
White continued, ‘Have you ever been bitten by a patient?’
‘Bitten?’
‘Yes. Teeth. You know?’
‘I have been bitten by patients.’
‘But not by this patient?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘I see you have scars on your fingertip.’
Spicer looked down at his own hand. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I cut it on the tin-opener.’
‘Really?’ White raised his eyebrows. ‘Because Patrick Fort seems to think that you may have been bitten by Mr Galen while he was alive – or in the process of dying.’
‘Patrick Fort is mistaken. Yet again.’
White leaned back in his chair and glanced at Williams. ‘That’s possible, I suppose.’
‘Many things are possible,’ agreed Emrys Williams.
‘Well, there’s an easy way to find out,’ said White cheerfully and nodded at Williams, who pulled on blue latex gloves with some difficulty, and then started to remove the head from the evidence bag.
Spicer tucked his hands into his armpits. ‘What are you doing?’ he said.
‘You just pop your finger in the mouth, would you?’ said White.
‘What? Why?’
‘Because if the marks don’t match the teeth then we’ll all agree that Patrick Fort is completely deluded.’
Spicer licked his lips.
‘Don’t worry,’ said White. ‘I have hand sanitizer.’
To prove it, he put the little bottle of gel on the table between them and smiled reassuringly while they waited for Williams to complete the unveiling.
Finally the head was exposed on the table, the teeth showing between the strange, stretched lips, the single eye glaring from the sunken socket.
‘This isn’t scientific,’ said Spicer.
‘No, but it’s a start,’ said White. ‘It seems like a simple way of discrediting Patrick Fort’s story, and I don’t want to waste your time, Mr Spicer.’
‘Doctor Spicer.’
‘We’ll see,’ said White. ‘Now, would you mind?’
He gestured towards the head. Spicer didn’t move.
‘Would you mind?’ said White again.
Emrys Williams noticed that Spicer’s fingertips were pressed so hard into his own sides that they had gone white. It made the pale-pink scars on the right index finger stand out even more starkly.
The silence was so deep that the loudest sound was the electric flicker of the fluorescent lights.
‘Would you mind?’ said White again, more softly.
Still Spicer did not move.
Williams realized that the clock on the wall was starting to tick. Or maybe it had always been ticking. He’d never noticed it before.
‘You don’t understand,’ said Spicer tightly. ‘People like you – ordinary people – don’t understand.’
‘What don’t we understand?’