At the Surgery

To say that Dr McBride was irritated to be contacted by Temple, after evening surgery, would be a gross understatement. He kept Temple waiting for over half an hour.

"I haven't got long, Temple, so you'd better hurry up."

"It's Detective Inspector Temple, Dr McBride. You would do well to remember that. Also, I regret, this will not be a case of 'hurry up'. It will take as long as it needs. Alright?" He looked long and hard at McBride.

McBride flushed with irritation. He started to tap a silver propelling pencil against his desktop: "So, what is it you want to know?"

"Several things. I'll take them in order. Firstly, how well did you know Ben Ellacott both as a patient and professionally?"

"Professionally? I had no more dealings with him than I do with any other pharmacist. As for being his doctor, I hardly saw him. In general, he was pretty fit."

Temple did not respond at once. He looked around the room, his eyes resting on the large certificate on the wall declaring Dr Andrew McBride had qualified at Glasgow University in 1938.

"Your name features prominently in the pharmacy ledgers. In fact, you seem to be one of his major customers."

"What are you talking about? 'Major customer'! I write the prescriptions for my patients, I don't take them!"

"That's interesting, Dr McBride. Then, can you explain how you are still prescribing for a patient who died over a year ago."

McBride stopped tapping the silver pencil immediately. He leaned forward and thumped the desk with his fist: "Just what are you talking about, Temple? What the hell are you saying? You'd better be pretty damn sure of your facts. I know the Chief Constable well. I'll have you thrown off the force and out of this county quicker than ..."

Temple held up his hand and produced a notebook. Slowly, he turned several pages:
"December 4, last year, Miss Ashfold of The Grove was prescribed several tablets of sodium amytal." He flicked over two more pages. "February 3rd, this year, Miss Ashfold was prescribed more sodium amytal. Each entry has under the title 'Prescribing Doctor' your name, Dr McBride. Yet, Miss Ashfold had died in July last year." He thumbed through the book. "There are other examples. A Mr Crispin, who died eighteen months ago is still being prescribed drinomyl."

"Where did you get this tosh?"

"Neatly written up in Ben Ellacott's pharmacy ledgers."

"You had no right to examine those books. It is highly confidential information. When he gets back ..."

"That brings me to the other aspect of this visit, Dr McBride. I want you to come with me to the mortuary to give a formal identification of the body of Ben Ellacott."

"Do you think I have nothing better to do with my time!"

"Mrs Ellacott is too unwell and you would seem to be the best person. He has no more living relatives here."

"I see. Well, in that case I will. Of course this throws a light on the previous matter you mentioned about Miss Ashfold and Mr Crispin. Ellacott was obviously fiddling the books to get drugs for God knows what purpose, using my name as cover. When it all got too much, he must have committed suicide."

Temple made no comment. He snapped shut the notebook. He wasn't sure what to make of McBride. Instinctively, he disliked him. However, he knew from past experience that personal prejudice and good crime solving did not go hand-in-hand."

"Shall I drive you to the mortuary, Dr McBride?"

"No, I'll get there under my own steam. I still have a patient call to make this evening."

It took less than ten minutes for both cars to reach the mortuary. The lights in that part of the hospital were out. The attendant was in an office in the main building. He was not best pleased to be disturbed and asked to unlock the doors. However, when he saw Dr McBride, his whole manner changed. He instantly became more businesslike. Temple wondered what it must be like to be a pillar of local society, admired and obeyed without question. The thought irritated him more than a little.

The attendant opened the chill cabinet drawer and pulled out a body covered by a sheet. He lifted the sheet and Dr McBride stepped forward. With no more than a cursory glance, he nodded. The sheet was replaced, the drawer closed again.

As they walked back to their cars, McBride said nothing. He was obviously deep in thought.

"The pathologist will do the post mortem tomorrow. I'll let you know the result." Temple said.

"No need, cause of death is pretty obvious. Poor chap drowned. As I said earlier, he seems to have committed suicide. His conscience caught up with him, no doubt. Does Mrs Ellacott know you found the body?"

"No. I wanted to get your identification over with first. I'll tell her this evening."

"No need, Temple. She was the patient I was going to visit this evening. It will be more appropriate for me to break the news. She knows me very well. It will come better from me."

Temple watched McBride drive off. He wished he hadn't sent Cantwell off duty earlier in the evening. He could really have done with him at that moment in time.