‘I’ll try and talk to my friend again – she might be able to hurry things up a bit.’
The car had iced up again and the pavement glittered dangerously with black ice. I scraped the screen and turned on the fan. My shoulder ached with fatigue, I rolled it around, stretched my neck, leant my head back against the head rest. It was slightly more comfortable but I couldn’t see as much of the road surface as I needed to. I hunched forward over the wheel and drove slowly home.
Maddie was asleep, lying flat on her back, her arms flung above her head. I sat there for a few minutes gazing at her. In the other bed Tom snuffled with his cold, coughed now and then, but Maddie slept on undisturbed.
‘Moira. It’s Sal. Any news on those tablets?’
‘No. But I didn’t put them in as urgent so they wouldn’t hurry – and they’d certainly not have touched them over the weekend. Other jobs will get done first. I told you it’d be a few days.’
‘I know. Just impatient. What do you know about the neurosurgeon Simcock?’
‘He’s famous – brilliant reputation. Keeps threatening to leave and work overseas. Reckons the profession’s being bled dry. He’s had a lot of stuff in the Lancet – keen on the new technology: lasers, biogenetics too, if I remember right. Why do you ask?’
‘He’s treating the woman whose case I’m working on.’
‘The one with the tablets?’
‘Yes. She’s had a fall and a haemorrhage in the brain. They’ve had to do an operation. What about Dr Montgomery, up at Kingsfield, at the Marion Unit?’
‘Can’t stand him. This is all confidential I hope?’
‘Of course.’
‘Probably competent in his own way but he’s obsessed with drugs. Chemical answer to everything. Sort who gives Prozac out like Smarties. Pharmaceutical companies love him. I’ve not had a lot of direct contact but you get to hear about people. Has he been treating this woman too?’
‘Yes. She went from Homelea to Kingsfield and now with this fall she’s gone to the MRL’
‘Well, they reckon Simcock’s the best there is. If there’s anything to be done surgically he’s your man.’
‘How many psycho-geriatric beds are there for South Manchester?’
‘Is this a trick question?’
I laughed. ‘No. I think someone might be getting more then their fair share.’
‘I can’t tell you offhand. Fifty or so I think.’
‘Could you check for me?’
‘Yes.’
‘And they’re all based at the Marion Unit?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Thanks. And if there’s anything you can do to speed up the lab results on the tablets…’
‘I’ll see what they say. Don’t bank on it. Later.’ She signed off in the same old way.
I scoured the evening paper looking for anything about the Achebe case. There was nothing in. Was Jimmy still being held in spite of his alibi? How could they do that? The only way he could have killed Tina and also phoned me from work was if they’d been mistaken about the time of death but the neighbour’s testimony had sounded very precise. Perhaps they had released him but not in time for the paper to get hold of the story. Presumably they’d also interviewed the man I’d seen meet Tina at the hotel, if they could trace him. After all, if Jimmy was innocent he must be the next most likely suspect.