Murder in Mesopotamia

I don’t pretend to be an author or to know anything about writing. I’m doing this simply because Dr Reilly asked me to, and somehow when Dr Reilly asks you to do a thing you don’t like to refuse.

‘Oh, but, doctor,’ I said, ‘I’m not literary – not literary at all.’

‘Nonsense!’ he said. ‘Treat it as case notes, if you like.’

Well, of course, you can look at it that way.

Dr Reilly went on. He said that an unvarnished plain account of the Tell Yarimjah business was badly needed.

‘If one of the interested parties writes it, it won’t carry conviction. They’ll say it’s biased one way or another.’

And of course that was true, too. I was in it all and yet an outsider, so to speak. 

‘Why don’t you write it yourself, doctor?’ I asked.

‘I wasn’t on the spot – you were. Besides,’ he added with a sigh, ‘my daughter won’t let me.’

The way he knuckles under to that chit of a girl of his is downright disgraceful. I had half a mind to say so, when I saw that his eyes were twinkling. That was the worst of Dr Reilly. You never knew whether he was joking or not. He always said things in the same slow melancholy way – but half the time there was a twinkle underneath it.

‘Well,’ I said doubtfully, ‘I suppose I could.’

‘Of course you could.’

‘Only I don’t quite know how to set about it.’

‘There’s a good precedent for that. Begin at the beginning, go on to the end and then leave off.’

‘I don’t even know quite where and what the beginning was,’ I said doubtfully.

‘Believe me, nurse, the difficulty of beginning will be nothing to the difficulty of knowing how to stop. At least that’s the way it is with me when I have to make a speech. Someone’s got to catch hold of my coat-tails and pull me down by main force.’

‘Oh, you’re joking, doctor.’

‘It’s profoundly serious I am. Now what about it?’

Another thing was worrying me. After hesitating a moment or two I said: ‘You know, doctor, I’m afraid I might tend to be – well, a little personal sometimes.’ 

‘God bless my soul, woman, the more personal you are the better! This is a story of human beings – not dummies! Be personal – be prejudiced – be catty – be anything you please! Write the thing your own way. We can always prune out the bits that are libellous afterwards! You go ahead. You’re a sensible woman, and you’ll give a sensible common-sense account of the business.’

So that was that, and I promised to do my best.

And here I am beginning, but as I said to the doctor, it’s difficult to know just where to start.

I suppose I ought to say a word or two about myself. I’m thirty-two and my name is Amy Leatheran. I took my training at St Christopher’s and after that did two years maternity. I did a certain amount of private work and I was for four years at Miss Bendix’s Nursing Home in Devonshire Place. I came out to Iraq with a Mrs Kelsey. I’d attended her when her baby was born. She was coming out to Baghdad with her husband and had already got a children’s nurse booked who had been for some years with friends of hers out there. Their children were coming home and going to school, and the nurse had agreed to go to Mrs Kelsey when they left. Mrs Kelsey was delicate and nervous about the journey out with so young a child, so Major Kelsey arranged that I should come out with her and look after her and the baby. They would pay my passage home unless we found someone needing a nurse for the return journey.

Well, there is no need to describe the Kelseys – the baby was a little love and Mrs Kelsey quite nice, though rather the fretting kind. I enjoyed the voyage very much. I’d never been a long trip on the sea before.

Dr Reilly was on board the boat. He was a black-haired, long-faced man who said all sorts of funny things in a low, sad voice. I think he enjoyed pulling my leg and used to make the most extraordinary statements to see if I would swallow them. He was the civil surgeon at a place called Hassanieh – a day and a half’s journey from Baghdad.

I had been about a week in Baghdad when I ran across him and he asked when I was leaving the Kelseys. I said that it was funny his asking that because as a matter of fact the Wrights (the other people I mentioned) were going home earlier than they had meant to and their nurse was free to come straightaway.

He said that he had heard about the Wrights and that that was why he had asked me.

‘As a matter of fact, nurse, I’ve got a possible job for you.’

‘A case?’

He screwed his face up as though considering. 

‘You could hardly call it a case. It’s just a lady who has – shall we say – fancies?’

‘Oh!’ I said.

(One usually knows what that means – drink or drugs!)

Dr Reilly didn’t explain further. He was very discreet. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘A Mrs Leidner. Husband’s an American – an American Swede to be exact. He’s the head of a large American dig.’