“Had she no other relations living?”
“Only Mummy and me.”
“I shall have to see Miss Bolam’s solicitor, I expect,” said Dalgliesh, “but it would be helpful if you would tell me as much as you know about her affairs. I’m afraid I have to ask these personal questions. Usually they have no bearing on the crime, but one must know as much as possible about everyone concerned. Had your cousin any income apart from her salary?”
“Oh, yes. Enid was quite well off. Uncle Sydney left her mother about £25,000 and it all came to Enid. I don’t know how much was left but I think she had about £1,000 a year coming in apart from her salary here. She kept on Auntie’s flat in Ballantyne Mansions and she … she was always very good to us.”
“In what way, Miss Bolam? Did she make you an allowance?”
“Oh, no! Enid wouldn’t want to do that. She gave us presents. Thirty pounds at Christmas and fifty in July for our summer holiday. Mummy has disseminated sclerosis and we couldn’t go away to an ordinary hotel.”
“And what happens to Miss Bolam’s money now?”
The grey eyes lifted to meet his with no trace of embarrassment. She answered simply: “It will come to Mummy and me. There wasn’t anyone else to leave it to, was there? Enid always said it would come to us if she died first. But, of course, it wasn’t likely that she would die first; not while Mummy was alive anyway.”
It was indeed unlikely, in the ordinary course of events, that Mrs. Bolam would ever have benefited from that £25,000 or what was left of it, thought Dalgliesh. Here was the obvious motive, so understandable, so universal, so dear to any prosecuting counsel. Every juryman understood the lure of money. Could Nurse Bolam really be unaware of the significance of the information which she was handing him with such unembarrassed candour? Could innocence be so naïve or guilt so confident?
He said suddenly: “Was your cousin popular, Miss Bolam?”
“She hadn’t many friends. I don’t think she would have called herself popular. She wouldn’t want that. She had her church activities and the Guides. She was a very quiet person, really.”
“But you know of no enemies?”
“Oh, no! None at all. Enid was very much respected.” The formal, old-fashioned epithet was almost inaudible.
Dalgliesh said: “Then it looks as if this is a motiveless, unpremeditated crime. Normally that would suggest one of the patients. But it hardly seems possible and you are all insistent that it isn’t likely.”
“Oh, no! It couldn’t be a patient! I’m quite sure none of our patients would do a thing like that. They aren’t violent.”
“Not even Mr. Tippett?”
“But it couldn’t have been Mr. Tippett. He’s in hospital.”
“So I’m told. How many people here knew that Mr. Tippett wouldn’t be coming to the clinic this Friday?”
“I don’t know. Nagle knew because he took the message and he told Enid and Sister. Sister told me. You see, I usually try to keep an eye on Tippett when I’m specialling the LSD patients on Fridays. I can’t leave my patient for more than a second, of course, but I do pop out occasionally to see if Tippett is all right. Tonight it wasn’t necessary. Poor Tippett, he does love his art therapy! Mrs. Baumgarten has been away ill for six months now, but we couldn’t stop Tippett from coming. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. It’s wicked to suggest that Tippett could have anything to do with it. Wicked!”
She spoke with sudden vehemence. Dalgliesh said mildly: “But no one is suggesting anything of the sort. If Tippett is in hospital—and I haven’t the least doubt we shall find that he is—then he couldn’t have been here.”
“But someone put his fetish on the body, didn’t they? If Tippett had been here, you would have suspected him straight away and he would have been so upset and confused. It was a wicked thing to do. Really wicked!”
Her voice broke and she was very near to tears. Dalgliesh watched the thin fingers twisting in her lap. He said gently: “I don’t think we need worry about Mr. Tippett. Now I want you to think carefully and tell me everything that you know happened in the clinic from the time you came on duty this evening. Never mind about other people, I just want to know what you did.”
Nurse Bolam remembered very clearly what she had done and, after a second’s hesitation, she gave a careful and logical account. It was her job on Friday evenings to “special” any patient undergoing treatment with lysergic acid. She explained that this was a method of releasing deep-seated inhibitions so that the patient was able to recall and recount the incidents which were being repressed in his subconscious and were responsible for his illness. As she spoke about the treatment, Nurse Bolam lost her nervousness and seemed to forget that she was talking to a layman. But Dalgliesh did not interrupt.
“It’s a remarkable drug and Dr. Baguley uses it quite a lot. Its name is lysergic acid diethylamide and I think it was discovered by a German in 1942. We administer it orally and the usual dose is 0.25 mg. It’s produced in ampoules of 1 mg and mixed with from 15 to 30 ccs of distilled water. The patients are told not to have any breakfast. The first effects are noticed after about half an hour and the more disturbing subjective experiences occur from one to one and a half hours after administration. That’s when Dr. Baguley comes down to be with the patient. The effects can last for as long as four hours and the patient is flushed and restless and quite withdrawn from reality. They’re never left alone, of course, and we use the basement room because it’s secluded and quiet and other patients aren’t distressed by the noise. We usually give LSD treatments on Friday afternoon and evening and I always ‘special’ the patient.”
“I suppose that if any noise, such as a cry, were heard on Fridays in the basement, most of the staff would assume that it was the LSD patient?”
Nurse Bolam looked doubtful. “I suppose they might. Certainly these patients can be very noisy. My patient today was more disturbed than usual which was why I stayed close to her. Usually I spend a little time in the linen room, which adjoins the treatment room, sorting the clean laundry as soon as the patient is over the worst. I keep the door open between the rooms, of course, so that I can watch the patient from time to time.”
Dalgliesh asked what exactly had happened during the evening.
“Well, the treatment began just after three-thirty and Dr. Baguley looked in shortly after four to see if all was well. I stayed with the patient until four-thirty when Mrs. Shorthouse came to tell me that tea was made. Sister came down while I went upstairs to the nurses’ duty room and drank tea. I came down again at a quarter to five and rang for Dr. Baguley at five. He was with the patient for about three-quarters of an hour. Then he left to return to his ECT clinic. I stayed with the patient and, as she was so restless, I decided to leave the laundry until later in the evening. At about twenty to seven Peter Nagle knocked on the door and asked for the laundry. I told him that it wasn’t sorted and he looked a bit surprised but didn’t say anything. A little time after that I thought I heard a scream. I didn’t take any notice at first as it didn’t seem very close and I thought it was children playing in the square. Then I thought I ought to make sure and I went to the door. I saw Dr. Baguley and Dr. Steiner coming into the basement with Sister and Dr. Ingram. Sister told me that nothing was wrong and to go back to my patient, so I did.”
“Did you leave the treatment room at all after Dr. Baguley left you at about quarter to six?”
“Oh, no! There wasn’t any need. If I’d wanted to go to the cloakroom or anything like that,” Nurse Bolam blushed faintly, “I would have phoned for Sister to come and take my place.”
“Did you make any telephone calls from the treatment room at all during the evening?”