Free A Well Kept Secret by A. B. King Page B

the functions she was employed to attend to, and in an efficient manner? All the evidence supported the fact that she could certainly do this. Just because the woman did not wish any degree of social integration with him was no grounds for him to start nosing into her background.

    After a while spent deep in his musings by the graveside he glanced at his watch and decided that it was time to stroll back to the surgery. He re-entered the waiting room, and on glancing up at the board where each patient hung their token as they went in to see the doctor, he noted with satisfaction that there was only one more now ahead of him. He settled himself into a chair and browsed through one of the magazines spread out over the table for the benefit of patients, and some minutes later he saw the ‘doctor ready’ light winking.

    Dr Rawlinson was a man of about his own age, or perhaps a year or two older. He was dressed quite casually, and sitting at a small desk with a computer terminal placed in the middle of it. He was tapping away at the keyboard as he entered the room, and following the brief aside asking him to ‘take-a-seat-I’ll-be-with-you-in-a-minute’, which no doubt was vouchsafed to all patients on entering, Martin obediently sat on the small chair beside the desk and waited. Finally, with a small sigh of satisfaction, the doctor turned away from the monitor, his task apparently completed as he looked up at his visitor.

    “Ah yes; Mr Isherwood,” he remarked, glancing at some papers on his desk. “So, what can I do for you?”

    “I’m hoping that you can provide me with some information, Doctor,” Martin responded, extending his hand. “I will try not to take up too much of your time; I know how busy a GP’s practise can be.”

    “I’ll do my best,” the doctor responded, accepting the hand and shaking it briefly. “What is it that you wish to know?”

    “I am the next of kin of your late colleague Dr Marston; I can show you some I.D. if you wish? As you may be aware, I have inherited his property.”

    “Ah yes,” Dr Rawlinson said, leaning back in his chair as he observed his visitor. “I remember Mr Dobson saying something about that. Yes, sad business, very sad.”

    “I agree, and neither Mr Dobson, nor Mrs Brent his housekeeper have been able to tell me how he actually died. Mrs Brent said that she discovered him dead in his bed, and that you were called in to certify death.”

    “Yes, that’s true. His heart seemed to have just stopped working sometime during the night; no obvious reason, he just stopped living. It happens sometimes; I think he had simply lost the will to go on. He had been pretty down since his wife died. He had been dead several hours by the time I saw him.”

    “Death by natural causes then?”

    “In laymen’s terms, yes.”

    “Tell me doctor, was his death quite unexpected? I mean, was he otherwise fit enough for a man of his age?”

    Dr Rawlinson appeared to study him for a few moments, no doubt wondering where all these questions were leading. “There was nothing in his medical history to suggest that such a sudden death was a likely possibility,” he said guardedly at last, “nor that it was virtually impossible. His heart was quite sound for a man of his age, likewise his principle organs. He had the beginnings of arthritis in his hands, but in general terms he was a pretty fit man. Why do you ask?”

    “I am just trying to clarify things in my own mind. As I expect you know, I was not close to my uncle; scarcely knew him in fact. I have come to Wellworthy in order to clear up his affairs, and perhaps dispose of the property. It is my intention to stay on at the house for a few days attending to such matters.”

    “I see,” said the doctor. “Something tells me that this poses a question for you?”

    “Yes, in a way it does,” Martin admitted. “Upon arrival at Springwater House I was greeted by my late uncle’s housekeeper, and I’m sorry to