Dagger Magic

"I think it's possible," he said carefully, "though if she is, I very much doubt that she's consciously aware of what she's doing. At the same time, however, it's quite possible for unconscious rage to break loose as psychic phenomena, when the potential is there and it's fuelled by a conscious sense of grief and injustice. I can't say for certain that this is what's at work here, but it certainly warrants further investigation. How would you feel about our paying a house call on Mrs. Crawford?"

"I'd consider it a very worthwhile expenditure of the taxpayers' money," McLeod said. "When were you thinking of going?''

"The sooner, the better," Adam replied. "After lunch, perhaps? I've got a lecture just before."

"I don't foresee any difficulty there," McLeod replied. "Do we make this an official police visit?"

"Not in the sense that you should phone ahead," Adam said. "In this instance, I think it would be better if we were to take the casual approach and simply drop in. First impressions are likely to be important in a case like this. If Mrs. Crawford does have latent psychic ability, I don't want to give her time to mask her feelings."

"Good point," McLeod muttered. "All right, why don't I meet you there at the hospital around two?"

"That ought to do nicely," Adam said.

He was about to ring off when abruptly he remembered his telephone conversation with Peregrine the night before.

"By the way," he continued, "while I've got you on the line, I probably ought to mention that I had a call last night from Peregrine. Yesterday he and Julia found a dead body washed up on the beach at Mull of Kintyre."

"You don't say! What a wretched wedding present."

"I agree. Julia seems to have taken it in stride, though."

Adam went on to relate, in as few words as possible, what the young artist had told him concerning the corpse itself and his misgivings that there might be more to the incident than mere misadventure.

"He thinks he might have Seen something, without being able to make out clearly what it was," Adam concluded. "I told him I'd ask you to follow up on the case."

"I'll be glad to," McLeod agreed. "Mull of Kintyre, you say? That means the body will probably go to Dumbarton. I'll ring my friend Jack Somerville and see what he can find out. Jack and I go way back. If I tell him I'm interested in this case, he knows me well enough to not mind sharing information."

"Nobody could ask more than that," Adam said. "I'll leave the matter in your capable hands, then. See you at two."

With these words he rang off. A glance at his watch told him he still had twenty minutes before his lecture - time enough, hopefully, for what he had in mind to do. After checking his desktop directory, he punched in the number for the Stoke-Mandville Rehabilitation Centre.

"Good morning," he said to the cheery receptionist who answered. "I'd like to speak with Dr. Miles Heatherton, extension 593."

"Thank you. One moment, please," she responded.

There was a brief pause while the call was transferred. After two buzzes came the click of someone lifting a receiver.

"This is Dr. Heatherton," said a brisk baritone voice. "What can I do for you?"

Passing over the question for the moment, Adam said, "Hello, Miles. This is Adam Sinclair."

"Adam? Good Lord, this is a pleasant surprise! It seems like donkey's years since we last spoke. How have you been?"

"Very well, thanks," Adam responded cordially. "What about you and your expanding clan? Last I heard, you and Lorraine were well on your way to parenting your very own rugby team."

"Only half a rugby team!" Heatherton protested with a rueful chuckle. "I'm beginning to think the only way we're ever going to get ourselves a daughter is to adopt one. But what about you? Are you still keeping company with that exceedingly fetching American lady you introduced me to at the Birmingham conference?"

"I'm afraid she's back in the States at the moment," Adam said, "but I'm hoping to lure her back here, once her commitments there are at an end. Look, Miles," he continued before Heatherton could question him further, "I've got a lecture in a few minutes, but I need some information. I wonder if you can tell me anything about a woman who was admitted to the institute about a year ago - a Mrs. Claire Crawford. She was - "

"Claire Crawford?" Heatherton interrupted. "I know exactly who you mean. She was one of my patients. If you don't mind my asking, what's your interest in her case?"

Adam had anticipated the question, and said easily, "Oh, just academic curiosity. I'm hoping to put together an article on the long-term emotional consequences of disability. I heard about Mrs. Crawford through a police contact of mine, and thought she might be a good subject for research."

"Well, there's no doubt about that," Heatherton said, in a tone that conveyed more than a hint of reservation. "How much do you know already?"