“Did you go in to see what had happened?”
“No, I ran to try and find Dr Bruce. It was Mr Brennan who went into Dr Meadow’s room. Him and Miss Teatime.”
“Mr Brennan is the gentleman who was here a little while ago?”
“That’s right.”
“But he’s not a patient, I gather.”
Bruce shook his head. “He’s the new rep for Elixon. One of the drug houses.”
“Where should I be able to get in touch with him? If it proves necessary—I don’t say that it will.”
Bruce looked blank, but the girl replied: “The Elixon man stays at the Roebuck as a rule, I believe. They’d tell you how long he’s booked in for.”
“But might it not be just overnight?”
“Oh, no. Reps are usually here for at least a week. They work the whole area from Flax and then go on to Norwich or over to Leicester. I should think Mr Brennan will be around for another three or four days.”
“I see. Well, you might as well get along home now, Pauline. Thank you for being so helpful.”
When the girl had gone, Purbright turned to meet the speculative eye of Dr Bruce. For a while he said nothing. Then he smiled.
“Yes?” Bruce prompted.
The inspector produced cigarettes. He lit one after Bruce had waved back the proffered packet.
“You are thinking,” said Purbright, “this... Why has an inspector, of all people, trotted along here so promptly on hearing of the regrettable, but perfectly natural, collapse and death of a respected general practitioner? Am I right?”
“You are,” said Bruce, drily.
“Ah, well you must not read too much into my apparent enthusiasm. For one thing. Sergeant Malley—whose province this sort of thing is—had gone home to enjoy a well-earned meal and it seemed rather heartless to drag him back again.”
“That was not your only reason.”
“No, it wasn’t. I admit to a degree of personal curiosity. You see, there’s a strong element of coincidence. You probably are not aware of it, doctor.”
“I am not.”
“Let me explain. Some rather odd things have been going on in Flaxborough lately. As you must know, if only by reading the local paper, a number of women have been assaulted. I don’t need to go into details, but the nature and the unusual frequency of these attacks have suggested that the persons responsible—and I use the plural advisedly—constitute a medical rather than a criminal problem.
“One of them, and only one, is known. Unfortunately, he is now dead...”
“Old Winge, you mean?”
“Yes. Alderman Winge. As I say, he is dead. But he was a patient of your late partner. Coincidence? All right. Now then, a girl was attacked just outside this surgery—out there on Heston Lane. Who came to her rescue? Dr Meadow, as you probably have heard. And there is no doubt in my mind but that he saw and recognized the man responsible—whom he let go, incidentally.
“Again, observation is being kept at this moment on a man whose wife is convinced that he goes out at night to seek some sort of erotic satisfaction. I know this sounds questionable as evidence, but I do happen to know that this particular man showed no such tendencies until recently, when he moved to Flaxborough and became a patient of Dr Meadow.
“You may say that these links, if I might call them that, are few and extremely tenuous. But I’m sure you will understand my curiosity—to put it no higher—on hearing that the man I believed to know a lot more than he had divulged about the business had suddenly dropped dead.”
For a long time, Dr Bruce gazed mournfully out of the window. When he spoke, it was with slow, rather weary deliberation.
“Whatever you say now, inspector, is scarcely likely to remove the implication you’ve already succeeded in making.”
“Which is?”
“That my partner’s death was connected in some way with what you’ve been talking about. That it wasn’t natural, in other words.”
“I’m a long way from saying that, doctor. I am not even going to speculate at this stage. After all, the cause of death has not been established. When it is—and I don’t suppose there’ll be any difficulty there—I shall accept the findings of the experts, as will the coroner. In the meantime, though, coincidence does exist. Judgment must be suspended, but investigation must not. Hence”—the inspector smiled—“the snooping. You do understand?”
Bruce resignedly lifted and let fall his hand.
“Very well. Is there anything you want to ask me now? I don’t want to be much longer getting over to the hospital, and I’ve some home visits I shall have to fit in.”
“I’ll be as brief as I can. Firstly, the cause of death. Do you want to say what you think it was?”
“Oh, a coronary. I don’t think there can be any doubt about that. He died extremely quickly, you know.”
“Obviously you wouldn’t have had time to make a detailed examination, but did you notice anything—anything at all—that seemed odd at the time, or has since struck you as being odd?”
Bruce pondered.
“Not a thing. The whole scene was exactly as one would have expected. He must have blacked out and gone full length.”
“But wouldn’t he have been sitting in his chair? Doctors never seem to get up when they’re being consulted by me.”
Bruce’s manner eased a fraction. “Perhaps you consult them about the wrong things. No, I imagine my partner was standing up in order to examine the McCreavy woman’s chest. She was half undressed when she ran out, you know.”
“According to Miss Sutton, he saw only three patients this evening. Yet she had quite a pile of cards. You must have dealt with far more than three in the same period.”
“Yes, that was the usual pattern.”
“You mean he was—what?—more leisurely in his dealings with patients?”
“If you like. Look—I’m the junior partner, he was the senior. Every practice works on the sound old principle that the junior’s share of the work shall equal the senior’s share of the income. What could be fairer?”
“What, indeed.” Purbright walked to the door and threw out the end of his cigarette. “In that case, I assume Dr Meadow tended to be selective. Did he deal primarily with those we might call his regulars?”
“Naturally.”
“Could you list them? In categories, I mean, not as individuals.”
“No difficulty about that. The paying patients. The socially desirable. And a few of the interestingly elderly.”
“Ah,” said Purbright, “it’s the old ones that I’ve been finding interesting lately. When I retire from the police force, perhaps I’ll take up geriatrics. Incidentally...”
Bruce watched Purbright search through a collection of pieces of paper he had taken from his pocket, select one, and thrust the rest back.
“Do you happen to know,” the inspector asked, “anything about a substance called”—he frowned at his note—“beta-aminotetrylglutarimide, God forgive us?”