Twelve
Roberts phoned back at four-thirty to tell Gordon that it would be possible for him to visit John Palmer in prison at three o’clock on Saturday afternoon. Roberts urged him to ‘embrace pragmatism’ and not say or do anything to upset what might be best for Palmer in the long run. He assured Roberts that he had John Palmer’s best interests at heart, without adding that his ideas on what that might be were very probably very different from his solicitor’s.
Although he was pleased at the prospect of seeing John again and getting the chance to talk some sense into him in person, Gordon found himself haunted by the spectre of Cleef’s killer. He was tortured by thoughts of what he might be planning. He’d given up trying not to worry. Maybe it was his Scottish upbringing, but he believed in the adage, ‘expect the worst and you won’t be disappointed’.
He found himself conceiving the worst possible scenario. Cleef’s killer was out there, biding his time — maybe even watching the surgery, waiting for a chance to kill him too just to make doubly sure that his secret was safe. Gordon looked out of the window into the darkness and shivered.
‘Is everything all right?’ asked Julie behind him.
Gordon nearly jumped out of his skin.
Julie looked at him quizzically, surprised at the strength of his reaction. ‘I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you.’
Gordon recovered quickly. ‘Sorry — I was away in a dream. I didn’t hear you come in.’
Julie wasn’t convinced. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
Gordon slumped back down into his chair and said, ‘Let’s call it a reaction to Cleef’s death. I must have been the last person he saw or spoke to. It’s an unnerving thought.’
‘Apart from his killer, of course,’ said Julie.
‘I suppose.’
Julie, who still suspected that Gordon wasn’t telling her everything, suddenly saw what he might be concealing and was alarmed. ‘You don’t think this man’s death had anything to do with the business at the hospital, do you?’ she asked, as if afraid of the answer.
Gordon looked at her and said, ‘Cleef was sure that’s why he was being followed.’
‘Good God, it never even occurred to me that there was a connection. But this is awful. Have you told the police?
Gordon shook his head.
‘Why ever not?’ demanded Julie.
‘Any suggestion of a link between Cleef’s death and the Griffiths baby scandal would explode all over the papers and eclipse any coverage of Caernarfon General’s IVF symposium. It’s important to them. They’ve put a lot of effort into it and they deserve a break.’
‘Oh my God,’ sighed Julie, sinking down into the chair usually occupied by patients in Gordon’s room. ‘It’s just one thing after another.’ She sat there mulling things over in her mind for a few moments before a new thought occurred to her and she exclaimed, ‘But you must be in danger too!’
‘The thought had crossed my mind,’ Gordon said with a half-hearted smile.
‘What did this man Cleef tell you exactly?’
Gordon told her.
‘That’s not much, is it?’ said Julie, ‘Unfortunately, I don’t suppose the killer knows that.’
‘That’s precisely the problem.’
They lapsed into a worried silence then Gordon had a more encouraging thought. ‘The Harlech was Cleef’s local,’ he said, as if this were a sudden revelation to him.
‘So?’
‘Cleef told me that he was there most evenings. ‘If I needed to get in touch with him I should go there rather than phone him or go to Prosser’s place.’
‘That’s not going to be much good now,’ said Julie.
‘That’s not the point,’ said Gordon. ‘Maybe the killer doesn’t know about me at all!’
‘Explain.’
‘Cleef knew he was being followed when he left home last night so he took evasive action and gave the man the slip in the docks before coming to the Harlech. If the killer knew that the Harlech was Cleef’s local, he might just have set up camp outside and waited for Cleef to either arrive or emerge. He wouldn’t necessarily know that Cleef had arranged to meet anyone there!’
‘I suppose not,’ agreed Julie.
Gordon warmed to the idea. ‘Even if the killer saw me come out the pub with Cleef, I could just have been someone leaving at the same time. We parted company almost immediately and what’s more, we went off in different directions!’
‘Unless of course, the killer recognised you as a doctor and wondered what the hell you were doing in a place like the Harlech Arms in the first place,’ said Julie.
This took the edge of Gordon’s euphoria. He had to admit that Julie had a point. He left the surgery and stepped apprehensively out into the darkness to walk down the hill to his flat. The night in Felinbach suddenly seemed threatening. The houses on the way to the harbour, which in the past had always assumed the friendly silhouette of a fairy tale village, were now huddled together in cold indifference. Every nook and cranny on Harbour Hill concealed a hidden threat. Even the small boats, riding at anchor in the marina, eyed him suspiciously.
It was a relief to close the door behind him and lean his back on it for a few seconds; the flat might be cold but at least it felt safe. He put the snib up on the lock and went into the kitchen to do battle with the heating controller yet again. He was just delivering a second kick to the pump when he remembered that he still hadn’t been to the supermarket so there was still nothing in the freezer.
Cursing, he started opening cupboards in a search for something to eat and so avoid going out again. The one above the sink yielded up a tin of sardines so he made himself sardines on toast and put his feet up to watch some TV before having an early night.
Gordon slept badly as he feared he might. His mind was too full of thoughts that transmuted themselves easily into the stuff of nightmares. Black goblins rose from muddy graves to pursue him across a barren wasteland, herding him, like a stricken animal towards a deep moat in front of a dark forbidding castle. The drawbridge was up and there was nowhere to go. The choice lay between the deep, dark water and the razor-sharp teeth of the goblins. As he fell backwards into the water he woke up with a start to find himself covered in sweat. He attributed this to the terror of the dream until he realised that it really was very warm in the flat. For once, the heating had jammed in the ‘on’ position and when he got up to look, the temperature in the room was well over thirty degrees. It was a little after 5a.m. so he decided to have a long bath before going out for a walk to blow away the cobwebs of the night.
He ended up walking for much longer than he’d anticipated due to the fact that, for once, there was a clear sky and it was good to watch the sun come up while on the beach. It reminded him of happier times in his life, and as he walked towards Bangor, watching the sun’s rays light up the structural details of the old Telford Bridge spanning the Menai, he reflected on the fabled, age-old battle between the forces of light and darkness. The warmth of the sun on his face did much to wipe out the lingering aftermath of the nightmare.
Julie called out to him as soon as he walked into the surgery. ‘There was a call for you; you’ve just missed her. Ellen Edwards at Plas Coch Farm says Glyn isn’t getting any better. She said you asked her to phone if there was no improvement by Saturday.’