Where There's Smoke

The last of the mourners had disappeared through the door. They had the chapel to themselves.

“I wanted to come.” Kate looked over to where the coffin was hidden by the closed drapes. “I thought it was the least I could do.”

A mechanical, whirring sound came from behind the curtains. They swayed slightly.

“We’d better go,” Collins said. “There’s another funeral scheduled.”

Kate made her way along the pew. Collins waited for her. He was wearing the brown suit and tweed overcoat that he always seemed to have on. He held the door open for her, and they went along the short corridor to the main doors.

Outside, the air was cold and sharp. The mourners were clustered in loose groups on the wide tarmac drive around the young woman. The elderly couple stood near, still supporting her as people waited their turn to speak a few brief words, occasionally to embrace her. The second elderly man stood close by, but slightly to one side, not quite a part of their group.

“That’s Turner’s father,” Collins said. “His mother couldn’t come. She’s in hospital, dying of cancer.”

The man had a slightly dazed expression as he nodded and shook hands with the people who approached him. Kate looked away.

“I’d better go.”

Collins regarded her. “If you want to hang on a second I’ll give you a lift.”

“No, it’s all right. Thanks.” She was suddenly in a hurry to get away.

“I’d like a word with you anyway. I won’t be a minute.”

Without waiting for her to reply, he went over to where the young woman stood, surrounded now by a group of weeping women. He waited on the edge, his bulk towering over them, then stepped forward. Kate saw him speak to Turner’s widow, taking both her hands in his. The young woman nodded, and then Collins moved on to shake hands with the man and woman on either side of her, and lastly the man he had pointed out as Turner’s father. He came back towards Kate.

“The car’s parked at the other side.”

They moved around the mourners towards a line of parked cars. Then Collins stopped. She felt his hand on her arm, restraining her, and looked up to see him staring ahead at the photographer who had been in the chapel. The man’s attention was on the central group around the widow. Kate could hear the click-whir of his camera motor as he took shots.

“Let’s go this way,” Collins said, taking her arm and leading her back the way they had come. They went around the back of the chapel, coming out behind the photographer, so he was facing away from them.

“Why didn’t you want him to see you?” Kate asked.

He glanced at her, then away again. “It was more you I didn’t want him to see. We’ve kept you out of it so far. I don’t want the press to start sniffing around now over some ‘mystery woman’ at the funeral.”

The murder of a psychologist by one of his patients had made national news, but none of the reports had made any mention of Kate’s involvement. She was surprised by the Inspector’s consideration. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. The press coverage was bad enough when they thought it was just another failure of Care in the Community. They’ve lost interest now, but if they find out why Ellis killed him we’ll have every tabloid in the country breathing down our necks. It’ll turn into a three-ring circus, and that sort of thing doesn’t help anybody.”

They reached the line of waiting cars. Collins went to a grey Ford. The sergeant who had been with him the first time he had visited Kate’s office was in the driver’s seat, reading a newspaper. He quickly folded it.

“We’re giving Miss Powell a lift,” Collins told him, opening the rear door for her.

The sergeant grinned at Kate, then seemed to think that might be too familiar and looked more serious. He cast a glance at the Inspector, as Collins eased his bulk onto the back seat next to her. “Where to?”

“The nearest tube station’s fine,” Kate said.

The sergeant started the car. Others from the line were already pulling onto the drive.

“I’ve been in touch with the Wynguard Clinic,” Collins said, as they passed through the crematorium gates. “Not that they were able to help much.” A trace of a smile touched his lips. “Your Dr Janson’s a worried woman. It seems the clinic never chased up the check with Ellis’s GP. They didn’t seem to think there was any real need, because he was a ‘known donor’. Is that the right term?”

Kate nodded.

“Anyway, that’s between you and them, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d got a case for negligence. I doubt that Ellis knew who the real Alex Turner’s doctor was, so if the clinic had tried to get hold of his medical records they’d have known something was wrong straight away. I’m not sure how the law stands on that but it might be worth you taking legal advice.”

She shook her head. “I can’t blame them.”