Free A Small Weeping by Alex Gray

beatific.
    ‘Constable, would you ask Jennifer Townslie to come in, please?’
        
    At last Lorimer was downing a cup of coffee. The morninghad been reasonably productive. They had been able to eliminate most of the residents from their inquiries. Some, as Lorimer had suspected, had been dead to the world having been given sleeping pills. These included a few women with eating disorders who were on the upper floor. None of them were currently on suicide watch. Some of the residents were pretty frail and Lorimer knew it would have taken someone of considerable strength to attack and strangle the young nurse.
    What most of them had heard amounted to very little other than the furore caused by the auxiliary, Mrs Duncan. It was time to wheel her in. Lorimer wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘OK?’
    Alistair Wilson gave a brief nod. They’d discussed this at some length. This was one witness whose statement would be crucial to the investigation. He just hoped she was in a better state than she’d been the previous night.
    Brenda Duncan was a portly woman in her fifties. She rolled slightly as she entered the room, a thick winter coat folded clumsily over one arm, her handbag clutched in two ungloved fists. As she sank into the chair in front of him, Lorimer could see that her eyes were heavy. It didn’t take much to guess that she’d been given some kind of medication after her trauma. She was smiling uncertainly and he wondered if she’d ever had to encounter the police before.
    ‘Mrs Duncan,’ Wilson’s voice was all concern, ‘thank you so much for coming back in. We realise how bad this has been for you.’ He gave his most encouraging smile as if to say there was nothing to worry about, they’d take care of it all. Lorimer could see the woman’s shoulders visibly relax.
    ‘Just take your time and tell us everything that happened yesterday evening.’
    ‘Well, when I found poor Kirsty…’
    ‘No,’ Lorimer broke in, ‘before that, please. We’d like you to tell us everything that happened from the time you arrived for your shift.’
    ‘Oh.’ The woman looked from one of them to the other. Her mouth was open and her eyes looked vacant for a moment. Lorimer wondered just how much medication she’d been given. And by whom? a little voice asked.
    The mouth closed and the jaw became firmer. Her bosom heaved in a long sigh. ‘I start at ten so I was here at about twenty-to. The bus drops me off at the Monument and I walk the rest of the way. It only takes about five minutes or so. The patients are usually ready for their beds although there’s no strict rule. We don’t put out lights or anything like that. They can sit up and watch telly if they like. Some of them don’t sleep too well, either. But most of them are early bedders.
    ‘And which ones aren’t, Mrs Duncan?’ Lorimer wanted to know.
    ‘Oh,’ the woman looked confused as if unsure whether by imparting this information she might be implicating a patient.
    ‘Sometimes Leigh sits up late. He likes to watch the creepy programmes.’ She leant forward, speaking in a whisper of confidentiality, ‘I don’t think he should, mind you, but that kind of thing’s not my decision.’
    ‘Leigh?’ Lorimer was looking down the list of patients’ names.
    ‘Leigh Quinn,’ Mrs Duncan supplied. ‘The Irishman,’ Wilson added.
    Lorimer nodded. Leigh Quinn had been practically non-verbal during his interview, staring out of the window mostly. Afterwards they’d decided that a good look at his case notes would be required. The man didn’t seem quite on the same planet as the other patients.
    ‘Did you notice anything unusual during the earlier part of your shift, Mrs, Duncan?’ asked Wilson.
    Brenda Duncan chewed her bottom lip for a moment or two, her eyes fixed on the bag on her lap. Then she shook her head, still gazing down as if struggling to see the events of the previous night in her mind.
    ‘Nothing untoward, then. Just a