Murder Club - Mark Pearson [50]
‘It’s not that simple, Inspector,’ said Laura Chilvers.
‘He is stabilised, yes,’ said the registrar. ‘But that can change. His overall health is extremely poor. Judging by his alcohol levels when he came in and his general appearance, his skin, it looks like he has serious alcoholism issues. I would suspect cirrhosis of the liver. Possibly quite advanced. He could deteriorate at any time. And I gather he has been living rough on the streets for quite some time?’
Delaney nodded. ‘Years.’
‘So it is unlikely he will have received any recent medical treatment?’
‘Very unlikely. I get the sense that he’s extremely wary of any kind of authority figures.’
‘He’s homeless,’ Sally added. ‘It kind of goes with the territory.’
‘The blow to the head. Is that what knocked him unconscious?’ asked Delaney.
The surgical registrar adjusted Bible Steve’s intravenous drip and made some notes on his chart as she spoke. ‘Probably. But not necessarily.’
Delaney gestured for her to elaborate. ‘What do you mean?’
‘He could have collapsed some time after receiving the blow.’
‘How much later?’
‘It could be many hours. If he suffered a subdural haematoma for example. Or he could have fallen or been pushed to the pavement at some stage, occasioning the trauma.’
‘So it could have been an accident?’ Delaney asked.
‘It could be,’ replied the registrar. ‘But unlikely. He has fresh abrasions to his hands and knuckles. I would say he had been in a fight, wouldn’t you?’
Despite cleaning, there was still blood crusting on Bible Steve’s inflamed knuckles. ‘Yes, I would.’
‘I’m not a detective, but it looks to me like someone wanted to hurt him.’
Delaney looked over at Laura who was staring at the man on the bed. ‘Did he have any bruising to his head when he was brought into custody last night?’ he asked her.
Laura shook her head, her forehead creasing.
Delaney picked up on her hesitation. ‘You did check?’
‘Of course I did!’ she snapped back. ‘I treated his hands. He was drunk. I was just assessing how drunk, and whether he was fit to be released.’
The registrar looked down at the comatose man. The monitor sounded louder now that no one was speaking. ‘Doesn’t look like he was, does it?’
‘This isn’t my fault!’ said Laura.
The registrar leaned back, a little surprised. ‘Nobody says it was.’
Delaney would have said something, but a loud alarm sounded from the intensive-care room next door and the registrar ran out.
Five minutes later, the crash team came out of Dongmei Chang’s room, wheeling their resuscitation equipment away. A short while afterwards, Dr Lily Crabbe came out of the room and shook her head at Delaney who was standing outside in the corridor.
‘We did everything we could,’ she said.
From inside the room, the sound of wailing could be heard. A Chinese man came out. He was in his late twenties, dark-haired, about five foot nine and thin. His hair was slicked back and he had a black jacket over a white T-shirt and black jeans. He looked like an Asian Fonz, Delaney thought.
‘You are the police detective?’ he asked.
‘Detective Inspector Jack Delaney, yes. And you are?’
‘My name is David Chang. Dongmei Chang was my aunt.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
‘I don’t need your pity.’ The man practically spat the words out. ‘What are you going to do about it?’
‘Trust me, there will be a thorough investigation into how she came to be injured.’
‘She wasn’t injured, Detective. She was murdered!’
36.
DELANEY ZIPPED UP his coat, his shoes crunching in the snow as he and Sally Cartwright walked back towards his car. Pulling out his mobile phone, he saw that he had a number of missed calls.
He punched in some numbers and tossed his car keys to Sally, who pushed the button to open the doors.
‘You drive,’ he said as he waited for the phone call to be answered.
‘That will make a nice change,’ said Sally wryly.
‘Hi, Bowlalong. It’s Jack Delaney. What have you got for me?’ He listened for a while. ‘Okay, Derek, thanks for that. Let me know if Ballistics can get anything off of that