The Police Doctor's Discovery

‘But what are you doing here?’ Rachel demanded, ‘the last time I heard about you, you were backpacking in Peru, or on a banana boat up the Limpopo or somewhere equally obscure.’

‘Oh, I was. I was,’ cried Georgie, ‘but I’m home for a while. Poor old pops is not too well and I’m keeping an eye on him. But what about you—where are you living? Are you at Ashton House?’

‘Lord, no,’ Rachel replied. ‘I’m renting an enchanting little house in Cathedral Close. Listen, why don’t you come over?’

‘When?’

‘What about tonight? I could cook us something and we could have a girly night in—just like we used to.’

‘Sounds wonderful—I’ll bring some wine.’

Five minutes later Rachel had finished signing her repeat prescriptions and had almost cleared her in-tray. She and Georgina Reynolds had started school on the same day and had been friends ever since. There was very little they didn’t know about each other and as far as Rachel was concerned the idea of an evening of catching up and girly gossip with Georgie was the best thing that could happen in her present rather fragile state of mind.

She took the last envelope from the in-tray and saw that it had been hand-delivered and was addressed to Dr Rachel Beresford and marked ‘Personal’, which presumably was why it hadn’t been opened and dealt with by the staff. Quickly she slit open the envelope, imagining it to be a request for medication or something similar, but when she drew out the single piece of paper and unfolded it she found it was neither. Written in pencil in childish print it simply said: I love you Rachel.

She stared at it, unable for a moment to believe quite what she was seeing, and then she remembered Tommy Page and what he had said to his mother when he had left the surgery a few days previously. In that moment she guessed that it must have been Tommy who had written this note. With a little smile she folded the sheet of paper and slipped it into the drawer of her desk then, with a last look around her consulting room, she switched off the light and went out.

* * *

‘Actually, Rachel, there’s something I think you should know.’ Georgina peered at her from beneath her cloud of frizzy dark hair.

‘Oh?’ Rachel set her wine glass down on the coffee table and raised one eyebrow, suspecting that she knew exactly what her friend was about to tell her.

‘I don’t know quite how to tell you really...’ Georgie went on.

‘Is it about Nick Kowalski and the fact that he’s back in town?’ Rachel leaned back and rested her head against the sofa cushions.

‘Well, yes.’ Georgie stared at her in surprise. ‘But how did you know that was what I was going to say?’

‘Probably because you are the only person who knew exactly how I felt about him—that’s why,’ Rachel replied calmly. ‘And likewise,’ she went on, ‘you are the only one who would know how his presence in Westhampstead would affect me.’

‘And has it?’ asked Georgie curiously. ‘Affected you, I mean?’

‘Is there any point denying it?’ Rachel pulled a face.

‘Not with me there isn’t.’ Georgie grinned but it was a sympathetic grin. ‘But surely you won’t need to see him,’ she went on after a moment. ‘I know Westhampstead isn’t that big, but—’

‘I’ve taken over Steve O’Malley’s police duties,’ Rachel said flatly.

‘And Nick Kowalski is...? Oh, no, you’re not going to tell me he’s stationed at the headquarters here.’

‘You’ve got it in one.’ Rachel nodded ruefully.

‘Oh, Rach.’ Georgie stared at her again then, leaning forward, she picked up the bottle of wine and topped up both glasses. ‘So, have you seen him yet?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Rachel nodded. ‘A couple of times, actually.’

‘And...?’

‘And what?’ Rachel stared into her glass.

‘Well, how did you feel?’ Georgie demanded.

‘How do you think I felt?’

‘Don’t know really.’ Georgie shrugged. ‘I know you were besotted with the guy once but, let’s face it, Rach, that was a long time ago and, well...I guess everyone’s moved on a bit since then.’

‘Yes, I suppose.’ Rachel sighed and briefly closed her eyes.

Georgie frowned. ‘Well, for a start, he’s married, isn’t he?’

‘Divorced.’ She opened her eyes again.

‘Oh, really? I didn’t know that. I guess I’m out of touch as well.’ Georgie paused, sipping her wine thoughtfully. Then, drawing up her legs and tucking them beneath her on the sofa, she said, ‘But you have Jeremy now.’

‘Do I?’ Rachel stared into her glass again.

‘Well, don’t you?’ Georgie demanded, when Rachel failed to add anything.

‘I don’t know really.’ She looked up at last and shrugged. ‘Jeremy and I have been going through a rough patch recently,’ she said. ‘We both agreed that this time apart might help us to sort ourselves out.’

‘Oh, Rachel, I’m so sorry, I had no idea.’ Georgie reached out and touched her arm, and to her dismay Rachel felt the tears prickle at the back of her eyes.

‘It wasn’t going anywhere, Georgie,’ she said after a moment. ‘Jeremy doesn’t want to settle down and have a family.’

‘And you do?’

‘Yes, I do. And I don’t want to leave it until it’s too late—I’ve seen too much of that in my surgery. Women of our age group who pour everything into their careers and put marriage and children on hold, then when finally they get around to it their bodies rebel and say no way.’

‘Maybe this will bring Jeremy to his senses,’ said Georgie.

‘Yes, maybe.’ Rachel shrugged again. ‘Trouble is, I’m not even sure about that any more. Jeremy, I mean...’

They were silent for a while then Rachel looked up again. ‘How about you?’ she said.

‘How about me?’ Georgie wrinkled her nose.

‘Well, is there anyone in your life at the moment? Wasn’t it Scott someone?’

‘Scott was a ski instructor,’ Georgie replied, ‘and that was months ago. It’s Robbie now,’ she added with a wicked little grin.

‘Robbie?’

‘Yes, I met him in Peru and he’s gorgeous.’

‘You say that about them all.’ Rachel smiled weakly.

‘I know I do.’ Georgie sighed, growing serious again. ‘But maybe, just maybe, this will be the one...’

They were silent again, each reflecting on their past and the men they had loved, then suddenly Rachel spoke again, changing the subject. ‘Did you say your father wasn’t too well?’

‘Yes.’ Georgie nodded. ‘I’m not sure what’s wrong—he went for some tests a couple of months ago and there didn’t seem to be anything too wrong then, but he really isn’t right now.’

‘He’s on Steve’s list, isn’t he?’ said Rachel.

‘Yes, he is.’

‘Would you like me to call round and see him?’

‘Oh, Rachel, yes. Yes, please, I was hoping you would say that.’ Georgie looked relieved. ‘It’s so hard to get him to go to the centre but if you were to just call in for a chat and a cup of tea I’m sure he would be delighted—he’s very fond of you.’

‘And I of him,’ Rachel smiled. ‘So that’s settled, then.’

‘If only everything were as simple.’ Georgie sighed. ‘Tell me, what are you going to do about Nick?’

‘What can I do?’ Rachel shrugged. ‘I’ve resigned myself that I’ll have to see him and work with him from time to time.’

‘What will you do if he wants to take it further?’

‘What do you mean, take it further?’ Rachel frowned.

‘Well, if he asks you out—for a drink or something, you know, for old times’ sake, that sort of thing.’

‘Actually,’ she said, ‘as it happens...’

‘You’re not going to tell me that’s already happened!’ Georgie sat up straight, clutching a cushion which she hugged against her body.

‘Yes.’ Rachel nodded, a little shamefaced.

‘Wow! Well, I must say, the pair of you didn’t waste any time getting it together again.’

‘It wasn’t like that!’ protested Rachel.

‘So what was it like?’ Georgie demanded. ‘Go on, tell me.’

‘I was called out to see a patient in police custody. Nick was in charge of the case...’

‘Was that the first time you’d seen him since you came back?’

‘No,’ Rachel explained, ‘I’d seen him earlier when I went to police headquarters to familiarise myself with the place.’

‘So it wasn’t as much of a shock as it might have been.’ Georgie paused and peered at Rachel. ‘But was it a shock that first time?’

‘Yes,’ Rachel admitted ruefully, ‘it was. A real shock. I had no idea he was back in Westhampstead.’

‘So, go on. What happened this next time?’ Georgie was agog now.

‘He asked me to go for a drink with him after I’d seen the patient—that’s all. We went to the Red Lion...and, well, we sort of caught up on what each of us has been doing for the last however many years it is since we last saw each other.’

‘You were mad about him, Rach,’

‘Yes,’ Rachel agreed, ‘I know I was.’

‘And he was about you as well...’

‘So much so that he married someone else,’ said Rachel bitterly.

‘Not immediately he didn’t,’ Georgie protested.

‘Maybe not.’ Rachel shrugged.

‘So what did happen between you?’ asked Georgie curiously. ‘What ended it? I never really knew. You just told me it was over and that you didn’t want to talk about it.’

‘He just stopped writing to me—that’s all.’

‘No explanation or anything?’

‘No, nothing.’

‘Didn’t you ask him why?’ asked Georgie almost in disbelief.

‘I was going to,’ she said, ‘and then I heard, well, I heard he was going out with someone else so in the end I didn’t do anything.’

‘This someone else, was it Marilyn Rooney—the one he married?’

‘I don’t know.’ Rachel shook her head. ‘I don’t think so...I’m not sure.’

‘How did you feel at the time?’

‘I was heartbroken,’ Rachel admitted. ‘Devastated really. I didn’t come back to Westhampstead for a long time after that.’

‘So how did you feel this time, when you saw him again?’

‘All right, I suppose.’ Rachel wrinkled her nose.

‘Rach, this is me you’re talking to,’ said Georgie. ‘Now, tell me how you really felt.’

‘Honestly?’

‘Yes, honestly.’

‘Cross my heart and hope to die honestly?’

‘Yes, cross your heart and hope to die honestly.’

‘I...I...well, I suppose really, if I’m really honest...it’s knocked me for six,’ she admitted at last, ‘and truthfully, Georgie, I don’t really know what I’m going to do about it.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘JULIE, there was a plain envelope in my tray last night marked “Personal”—have you any idea who handed it in?’ Rachel had been about to leave on her house calls but she paused at the reception desk.

‘No. Sorry.’ Julie shook her head then turned to Danielle, who was checking and filing patient records. ‘Do you know, Danielle?’

‘It was in the outside mail box,’ Danielle replied, ‘where people leave their repeat prescription requests when we are closed. I particularly noticed it because it was marked personal—that’s why I didn’t open it,’ she added. Her voice had taken on an anxious note and Rachel hastened to reassure her.

‘That’s quite all right,’ she said, ‘I just wondered if any of you saw who handed it in, that’s all.’

‘Didn’t it say who it was from?’ asked Julie with a frown.

‘No.’ Rachel shook her head. ‘It didn’t.’

‘It wasn’t a repeat prescription form, then?’ asked Danielle.

‘No, it was simply a handwritten note—without a signature.’

‘I wish people wouldn’t do that,’ grumbled Julie. ‘They put grubby little scraps of paper in the box asking for more of “that ointment you gave me for my piles”, and not only are we expected to know which ointment they are talking about, we are also expected to know who it’s for. Is that the sort of thing you got, Rachel?’ she added.

‘Something like that, yes.’ Rachel nodded vaguely. For some reason she didn’t want the staff to know that it wasn’t a request for medication she’d received. Neither did she want to have to say that she suspected the note was from Tommy Page. Instead, she turned her attention to the patient records that Danielle passed across the desk.

‘That’s today’s house calls,’ the receptionist said. ‘I should take an umbrella with you if I were you. It’s absolutely chucking it down out there.’

‘Right.’ Rachel peered out of the main entrance and saw that it was indeed raining hard. Picking up her case and opening the main doors, she made a quick dash for her car. Her calls that morning included a new mother and baby who had just been discharged from hospital, an elderly man in the final stages of terminal cancer and a woman suffering from emphysema. All were, of course, patients of Steve O’Malley and only the wife of the elderly man knew who Rachel was and asked after her father. When she had seen the final patient she returned to her car and picked up a further set of records, which she had taken from the files earlier and studied. These belonged to Georgie’s father, Harvey Reynolds, whom Rachel had promised to visit.

The Reynolds family home was tucked away at the end of a long drive—a Tudor-style house set in beautifully tended gardens, which perfectly befitted Harvey’s status as a retired university don. Georgie’s mother had died when Georgie had been in her teens and her father had never remarried, choosing instead to live alone.

After Rachel had parked the car at the front entrance and rung the bell, Georgie herself opened the door. ‘Rachel!’ she cried. ‘You came.’

‘I said I would, didn’t I?’ Rachel smiled.

‘Yes, I know, but...’ Georgie threw an anxious glance over her shoulder. ‘I don’t want him to think I’ve asked you to come specifically.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Rachel briskly. ‘I’ve come for coffee and a chat—surely an old friend can do that?’

‘Bless you,’ murmured Georgie.

‘Who is it, Georgie?’ Harvey appeared in the hallway behind her, a still handsome man even now in his seventies, with thick white hair and striking blue eyes. ‘Why,’ he exclaimed, his face lighting up, ‘it’s Rachel. Georgie said you were back. How lovely to see you again, my dear.’

Together they made their way into a pleasant drawing room that overlooked the garden then Georgie took herself off to the kitchen to make the coffee. They chatted briefly of Rachel’s return to Westhampstead, of her own parents and of her mother’s fragile health, and then carefully, subtly Rachel tried to draw the conversation round to Harvey himself. ‘The garden is still looking good, Harvey,’ she said, standing up and walking to the window.

‘It’s rather bedraggled today with all this rain. Mind you, it’s not before time—we needed it.’

‘Just as long as it knows when to stop,’ Rachel replied with a laugh then casually added, ‘Do you still do the gardening yourself, Harvey?’

‘Not as much as I used to,’ he admitted. ‘I have a man come in these days to give me a hand with the heavy stuff. I’m not as young as I used to be, Rachel.’

‘My father says exactly the same thing,’ said Rachel with a nod. ‘The trouble with him is he doesn’t know when to ease up.’

‘And that’s why you’re here, isn’t it, my dear?’ Harvey’s blue eyes twinkled. ‘To tell me I’m getting past it and that I should be thinking of easing up a bit.’ As Rachel opened her mouth to protest, he lifted one hand to stop her. ‘I’m not stupid, you know,’ he went on. ‘I know it was that girl of mine who asked you to call in to see me.’

‘Do you know something, Harvey?’ said Rachel with a laugh. ‘You have just made things a whole lot easier for me. We can stop pretending now and you can tell me how you really are.’

By the time Georgie returned with the coffee Rachel had established that Harvey was experiencing symptoms that could indicate a heart problem and had arranged for him to attend her surgery for a thorough examination and blood tests.

‘Thanks, Rach,’ Georgie whispered when half an hour later Rachel walked to the front door with her friend. ‘There was no way he was going to come to the centre off his own bat. But...’ Her eyes clouded anxiously. ‘You don’t think it’s anything too serious...?’

‘Let’s not speculate until we know for certain,’ Rachel replied. ‘The tests should tell us more.’ As she finished speaking her mobile phone suddenly went off and she took it out of her pocket. ‘Excuse me,’ she said to Georgie. ‘I need to answer this.’

‘Of course,’ Georgie murmured, and moved discreetly away.

‘Rachel?’ It was Nick. There was no disguising his voice, neither was there any denying the way her heart lurched.

‘Yes.’ She swallowed.

‘You are duty for us today, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘I am.’

‘Good. We need you to certify a death.’

‘Give me the address,’ she said, aware now that Georgie had turned and was watching her.

‘There isn’t an address as such,’ he replied. ‘A body has just been recovered from undergrowth.’

‘Oh, I see. Where do I come to?’

‘The towpath beyond Millar’s Wharf—I’ll meet you. How soon can you be there?’

Rachel glanced at her watch. ‘Fifteen minutes?’ she said.

‘OK. See you then.’ He hung up.

‘That was him, wasn’t it?’ Georgie demanded as Rachel ended the call and turned to her. ‘Nick. Nick Kowalski.’

‘I...How...?’

‘No need to ask me how I knew,’ said Georgie with a grin. ‘It’s written all over your face. You never were very good at hiding anything like that—especially from me.’

* * *

It was still raining when Rachel arrived at Millar’s Wharf and parked her car on a large patch of wasteland alongside several police vehicles. As she switched off her engine and stepped from the car Nick climbed out of an unmarked vehicle and crossed to meet her. He was dressed in dark clothes, the collar of his black bomber jacket turned up against the relentless rain.

‘Don’t you have a coat?’ His tone was faintly incredulous as his gaze travelled over her, taking in the suit she invariably wore for work and her neat shoes—totally unsuitable for scrabbling about in undergrowth on wet towpaths.

‘I was on house calls,’ she replied coolly, thankful that she had remembered the advice of the senior partner in her previous practice who had told her always to be prepared for any eventuality when working with the police. ‘But, yes, I do have other clothing with me.’ Moving to the rear of her car, she unlocked the boot and under Nick’s watchful gaze drew out a green waxed jacket with a hood and a pair of sturdy rubber boots. She pulled on the jacket and set the boots on the ground. Stepping out of one of her shoes, she would have overbalanced in a sudden gust of wind if Nick hadn’t stepped forward and steadied her by taking her arm.

‘Thanks.’ She pulled a face, feeling suddenly foolish and expecting Nick to laugh at her ungainly action, but his face remained deadly serious and Rachel was reminded of exactly why they were there.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.