The patient, p.24
The Patient, page 24
‘Why didn’t he just treat him?’ said Ottey.
‘He said it wasn’t in Flick’s best interests,’ Sandra replied. ‘She was his client first and foremost, and he wouldn’t do anything that might jeopardise her recovery. He said the best way to describe it was like it was a conflict of interest.’
‘Simon described him as a “Svengali”,’ said Ottey.
‘Oh, he called him a lot worse than that, I can assure you.’
‘Do you think he had that kind of influence over Flick?’ Ottey asked.
‘I’m sorry, but I’m not going to enter into a discussion of what Simon thinks,’ Sandra replied. ‘I mean, come on. He’s all over the place. Benedict was her therapist and helped keep her clean, and now he helps me.’
‘I was actually asking you.’
‘No. I don’t. He was her therapist. He didn’t influence her in any way other than in ways to face her demons.’
‘How does he help you?’ asked Ottey.
‘Well, he’s like a grief counsellor for me. Not in any official way, but you know he does that kind of work. He’s an extraordinary man,’ she said.
‘Quite the fan,’ Mackenzie observed jokily. She realised immediately that this comment was completely out of sync with the tone of the meeting and regretted it.
‘Well, after what he’s been through, it’s amazing that he does what he does,’ Sandra replied.
‘Could you explain?’ said Ottey.
‘His wife, late wife.’
‘She died some time ago, yes?’ Ottey replied.
‘That’s right. She developed mental health problems after they married, and…’ She faltered for a moment, obviously considering whether it was appropriate for her to continue. ‘Well, everyone knows. She became an addict over a number of years and drank. Drink was a big problem, apparently. Anyway, she finished up ending it all. The inquest said it was accidental. Benedict has a different view.’
‘How do you mean?’ Ottey pressed.
‘He’s convinced she killed herself.’
‘How awful,’ said Mackenzie.
‘It’s like a mirror situation to Flick’s, when you think about it,’ said Sandra.
Ottey nodded. ‘Isn’t it just?’
Chapter 51
Cross wanted to examine Sutton’s patient records so he and Ottey went back to his office with a warrant.
‘He’s with a patient,’ Diana informed them.
‘We’re not here to see Dr Sutton,’ said Ottey. ‘We have a warrant for his patient records.’
‘All of them?’ asked Diana, shocked at the prospect.
‘Specifically those who are now deceased,’ explained Cross.
‘Well, if you come back tomorrow I’ll have it organised,’ she replied.
‘Had we simply wanted to alert you to our need for the records we could have done so by telephone and not gone to the effort of coming here in person,’ said Cross.
‘Yes, that would have been preferable,’ she replied.
‘The fact that we’re here – our physical presence in your office – surely makes it abundantly clear that we need them today. Now, in point of fact,’ Cross said.
‘It’ll take a while to get them together,’ Diana complained.
‘We’ll be back in an hour,’ said Cross.
‘I might need longer,’ she replied defiantly.
‘Miss Coogan, from my brief observation of you and the way you run your office, I think you are an immensely organised person,’ said Cross. ‘Admirably so. I like to think of myself as similarly well organised, and as we are only talking twenty patients, the names and dates of death of whom I have detailed for you, I think that an hour is more than generous.’
‘Presumably you are working on the assumption that I will provide you with copies,’ she asked.
‘Correct.’
‘Then you need to factor in time for me to photocopy them,’ she said victoriously.
‘Oh, I did,’ he replied. ‘We’ll see you in an hour.’
*
When they returned, the files had been duly copied and placed in a folder. Diana provided them with a detailed inventory of the files she had copied, which she then insisted both detectives sign. Sutton was unavailable to see them, she informed them.
‘We haven’t asked to see him,’ Cross pointed out.
‘I know, but he’s unavailable,’ she repeated.
‘As I said, we haven’t asked to see him,’ Cross reiterated.
Diana looked at him disdainfully.
‘I trust you have everything you need,’ she said frostily.
‘We will have, if you’ve given us everything we requested,’ said Cross.
Ottey was sorely tempted to say, ‘Hey, guys, get a room!’, but she was fairly sure it would be wasted on the two of them.
‘How is Angie? The young woman I brought in?’
‘I can’t discuss patients with you, Sergeant.’
‘Did you manage to find a residential place for her? Can you at least let us have that?’ asked Ottey. Diana thought for a moment.
‘We did,’ she confirmed.
*
Cross went through Sutton’s patient files over and over again. He wasn’t looking for anything specific, just things that stood out as anomalies or mistakes, patterns. But nothing seemed particularly out of place. It was when Mackenzie brought him the coroner’s report for Sutton’s wife he’d asked for, that he found something. He read it thoroughly. Sutton had come home from work to find his wife dead. She’d taken an overdose. The verdict was accidental death, but there was something which caught Cross’s eye. Sutton had said ‘her last words were “thank you”.’ Something in the phrasing of this struck Cross as odd.
Chapter 52
‘Where’s Josie?’ Carson asked Cross, having summoned him to his office for an update.
‘She’s being interviewed,’ Cross replied.
‘Looking for a new job?’ Carson joked.
‘No, she’s with HR. They’re interviewing her about Campbell’s complaint.’
‘Ah, okay. So Flick Wilson – we have a doctor, well, more of a shrink these days—’ Carson began.
‘He’s still registered as a doctor and has his medical licence.’
‘Who deals with troubled individuals,’ Carson continued, as if Cross had said nothing. ‘Mostly substance abusers, and is a great advocate of assisted dying.’
‘Correct,’ replied Cross.
‘Who has taken, of late, to going a little further with his advocacy, saying that assisted dying should be available to those with mental health issues as well as terminal illnesses, which has got him into quite a lot of hot water,’ Carson went on.
Cross said nothing, even though Carson was in effect just repeating what Cross had told him not five minutes before. Ottey would’ve had a field day with this. But funnily enough, without her there the meeting seemed to go a lot more smoothly and quickly. Cross thought this was a reflection on both her and Carson. They spent so much time needling each other in meetings. Carson was always put on edge by Ottey, which was no doubt her intention, as she found his management style obstructive and time wasting. When Cross brought this up with her later, she said she was simply holding Carson to account.
‘And he has an unusually high mortality rate in his patients,’ Carson continued.
‘According to Dr Todd. But I haven’t been able to verify it yet,’ replied Cross.
‘Do you think he’s maybe practising what he preaches?’ asked Carson. ‘It’s kind of compelling, don’t you think?’
‘I don’t think anything of the sort.’
‘Why ever not?’
‘We have no evidence,’ Cross pointed out.
‘No, of course not. Should we bring him in, though, George?’
‘We have no evidence,’ Cross repeated. Carson was always in a predictable rush to make an arrest to appease his superiors. He did it so often that Cross began to wonder if that was what Carson thought his job was. A conduit between actual police work and ‘those upstairs’? Or just to manage department politics solely, it would appear, for his own benefit.
‘Okay, let’s leave him for now. I don’t suppose he’s going anywhere. But if he is another Harold Shipman operating on our watch, we don’t want to be seen to have been aware of it at a later date and have done nothing,’ Carson mused.
Ottey would’ve doubtless jumped on this, had she been in the room, and pointed out that their job wasn’t to be concerned with appearances but to make arrests when they had evidence to do so and secure a conviction. At present they didn’t have a shred of credible evidence against Sutton.
*
Cross had a series of newspaper and magazine articles printed up for him by Mackenzie, despite her vain protestations about the planet and his responsibility to be more green in the office. He preferred some things on paper. He could collate sheets of paper into an order which made more sense to him in a physical form than merely digital on a screen. At the beginning of what Ottey had referred to as Sutton’s ‘media career’ – which had sent Cross into a tailspin as he thought he must have missed this in his research – Sutton spoke about a range of medically related subjects. These were mostly to do with substance abuse and recovery. But, of late, assisted suicide had become a more common theme with him.
Sutton obviously wasn’t afraid of saying unpopular, contentious things on the issue, but he always remained admirably detached and calm, despite the often volatile, emotive, ill-tempered nature of the discussions.
Suicide was a subject close to Sutton’s own personal experience. He was convinced his wife had committed suicide and he’d written many papers on the subject, not only on the nature and causes of suicide, but also the aftermath on the surviving family. He was also at great pains to differentiate between the ideas of suicide and assisted dying. He would not countenance the use of the word ‘suicide’ in the context of assisted dying. They were two profoundly different concepts, in his view. It was the one area of the argument, the one point about which he got closest to being exercised and angry.
*
Later that afternoon Ottey and Cross made their way to see Billie Williams at the Hopewell Clinic. It would be an opportunity for Cross to check on Angie’s progress as well. Ottey turned to him as they drove there.
‘Do you want to discuss my interview with HR?’ she asked.
‘Wasn’t it confidential?’
‘Yes. Obviously,’ she said.
‘Then no. Obviously.’
*
Billie wasn’t particularly happy to see the two detectives again but Cross thought she seemed like the sort of person who was probably never pleased to see anyone.
‘How is Simon doing?’ Ottey began.
‘Still here. He’s well, better in many ways but a little more troubled about Flick,’ she replied.
‘In what way?’ said Ottey.
‘Well, it makes more sense to him that she didn’t take her own life, deliberately or otherwise. But he’s upset by the fact that someone else did. He feels responsible.’
‘Because if he’d been clean and with her it may not have happened,’ Ottey said.
‘He told you,’ said Billie.
‘Yes, last time we were here,’ said Ottey.
Cross was becoming impatient. ‘We’d like to talk to you about Dr Sutton.’
‘What about him?’ Billie asked.
‘What do you think of him?’ Cross replied.
‘Personally or professionally?’
‘Let’s start with professionally,’ said Cross.
‘He’s extremely good at his job. He’s devoted to his patients,’ she said.
‘I sense a “but” in there somewhere,’ said Ottey.
‘He likes the limelight too much, does our Benedict. Being the centre of attention. But I think you’ve probably worked that out already.’
‘He certainly seems like a bit of a rent-a-quote on medical issues here in the south-west,’ said Ottey.
‘Which would be okay if it was to do with his field. But it never is. Anything but,’ said Billie.
‘Go on,’ prompted Ottey.
‘Mental health is getting a lot more attention these days, which is great, but people with addictions and substance abuse issues are still way down the pecking order.’
‘Aren’t the two interlinked?’ asked Ottey.
‘To an extent, but not always, and there’s still a widely held prejudice about addiction being the addict’s fault. There’s less sympathy for the issue. It’s like they’ve made their bed and now they should lie in it,’ Billie went on. ‘Alcoholism is a disease not a choice.’
‘You think Sutton could do more to shine a light on it?’ said Ottey.
‘I do and I’ve told him so, but he chooses not to,’ she said. There was a pause, and then she added, ‘But he has an amazing success rate with his patients on the whole.’
‘By “on the whole”, do you mean those that don’t kill themselves?’ said Cross.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Billie was clearly shocked.
‘How many of your clients who are under his care after they leave kill themselves?’ Cross asked.
‘I have no idea,’ she replied.
‘I don’t believe that,’ Cross challenged her.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You seem to be very concerned and involved with the people in your care. I’ve seen it myself. I don’t believe for a minute that you’re not aware of how many of them have died by their own hand, “deliberately or otherwise”, as you put it. I think you know how many. Exactly. Their names. The dates they died. Where they died.’ He looked her squarely in the eye.
She considered him for a moment.
‘Twelve. We’ve had twelve deaths in the last six years, I’m afraid. One of them while she was here. The others at various times after that,’ she said quietly.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Ottey.
‘Would you call that an occupational hazard?’ Cross asked.
‘I wouldn’t put it so crassly. I’d call it an occupational statistic,’ she replied firmly.
‘Quite so. Thank you for the distinction. Is it?’ he persisted.
‘To an extent, yes.’
‘Would you say your mortality rate is higher than other such places in the area dealing with this kind of thing?’ asked Cross.
‘I have no idea,’ said Billie.
‘How many of those patients were under Dr Sutton’s care? How many of the twelve?’ Cross asked.
‘All of them,’ she replied after a moment. The two detectives made no comment on this. They just left it hanging in the air uncomfortably.
‘How many of his patients do you have in your care at the moment?’ Cross went on.
‘None,’ she said.
‘Really? What about Angie?’ Cross asked.
‘Angie isn’t here. Is she back in rehab?’
‘She is. Is that a conscious decision of yours? Not to have any of his patients?’ asked Cross.
‘No.’
‘Are you still referring patients to him?’ Ottey went on.
‘No.’
‘So, he no longer sends patients to you, and you no longer refer them to him when they leave?’ said Cross.
‘That’s correct,’ Billie said.
‘Have you had a falling-out or a disagreement?’ Cross asked.
‘We had a difference of opinion, let’s put it that way.’
‘Could you elaborate?’ Ottey asked.
‘Look, as medical professionals…’ she began.
‘You’re a doctor?’ Cross asked.
‘As healthcare professionals,’ she corrected herself, with a look of irritation directed at Cross, ‘we have to maintain a dispassionate, detached relationship with our patients and it’s hard sometimes. It’s inevitable that you get to know some of them really well.’
‘Some better than others?’ Cross asked.
‘Yes,’ she answered slowly. She seemed to be getting a little wary of Cross and his questions, not quite knowing where any of it was leading, and it made her uncomfortable. This was not something that would have bothered him in the least, had he even noticed it.
‘You feel terrible when they suffer setbacks, thrilled and happy when things go well,’ she went on. ‘But you have to maintain a distance, to an extent, so that you can make tough and unpopular decisions in their best interests. I feel Benedict has maybe taken it too far.’
‘How do you mean?’ asked Ottey.
Billie now spoke as if she wanted to tell them the truth about something, while at the same time juggling the fact that she might get someone into a lot of trouble by doing so. A bit like a schoolchild who wants to name a culprit for a classroom misdemeanour to prevent the whole of the class from being punished. An unpleasant thing, but one she’s willing to do for the good of the whole class.
‘It was his attitude to those who had killed themselves that offended me. It was so dispassionate. So detached. Cold almost. At first I told myself it was just his way of dealing with it. But then it became a common theme and a problem for me,’ she said.
‘How, exactly?’ Cross pushed.
‘He said he felt that their problem was now solved. That they were in a better place. Were better off…’ she faltered.
‘Being dead,’ said Cross, filling in for her.
‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘And he has this way of saying it through those gimlet eyes of his, which makes you feel less intelligent, less sophisticated if you don’t agree. I thought he might take offence when I finally brought it up with him. But he didn’t. He just looked at me in that superior way of his. As if it was so predictable that I wouldn’t be able to understand something on such a higher spiritual or intellectual plane.’
The two detectives didn’t say a word, both feeling that she had more to say and they shouldn’t interrupt.
‘But I kept pushing,’ she continued. ‘Asking him to be more specific about what he was saying. Was death the answer? Then he said something which still gives me chills. He said it wasn’t so much their death but the beauty of the manner in which they did it. He thought their committing suicide was in some way them empowering themselves. Which is absurd, as they were doing the absolute opposite.’
