DETECTIVE SUSPENSE STORY

                                        " DEATH AT THE HOSPITAL"

Police inspector Dougan did not like doctors’ clinics.

As an asthmatic since his youth, he had spent time with physicians and specialists, getting his chest examined with stethoscopes, and his lung function parameters repeatedly tested. But however bad, clinics were still merely places where one went to in the knowledge that at the end of the check-up, one would be able to return home. Not so hospitals, thought Dougan looking around at the forbidding walls of the waiting room. Hospitals were different: once you entered a hospital, all bets were off.

Dougan was in the government hospital for a chest x-ray. His physical examination, as mandated by the police manual, was long overdue. He had already had his blood drawn three hours ago, and now he was waiting for a doctor who apparently had been summoned for an emergency meeting with the Medical Superintendent. There were two technicians sitting inside the room, but they had both expressed their inability to proceed in the absence of the doctor. They did assure him however that the doctor was very good at his job, and that as a police inspector, he would get priority and be taken in before any of the other patients.

Dougan stretched his legs out. The polished steel chair he was sitting on was hard, cold and not designed for comfort. Three other men were seated about, holding brown files and staring vacantly out at the ground or into the distance. Ahead, a servant in regulation attire was mopping the floor in wide, mechanical arcs. The smell of disinfectant was suddenly strong in the air, and Dougan shifted uneasily. The smell was one of the things he had never liked about these damn places. As if the surroundings weren’t already depressing enough…

Making up his mind, he quickly got to his feet. He poked his head into the room with the fancy equipment and told the technician he was going out for some tea. Dougan marched past the cleaning staff and out into the open. The harsh sunlight hit him with the impact of a physical blow, making him blink and mutter under his breath. Keen to avoid the in-house canteen which would be flooded with sickly types, his plan had been to walk to the outdoor cafeteria.

As he hesitated, wondering on his next course of action, his eye fell on a vehicle parked in the doctors’ area. It was a police jeep and, realized Dougan, eyes narrowing. It was the one that his junior officer Assistant Inspector of Police Naik used. Was Naik also in the hospital, he wondered, glancing about.

He took out his mobile and made the call to Naik. When he heard what Naik had to say, he immediately asked him where he was then told him that he was on his way.

Naik was in the Out-Patient Department, located in the building across from where Dougan had been waiting. Unlike the newer structure housing the departments conducting investigations and the operation theaters, this unit had been built almost thirty years ago. As he strode the length of the front of the OPD block which overlooked the busy highway beyond, Dougan glanced up. This face was covered with creepers that bore blue flowers, lending it a charming air. He could even see big black bees hovering above the flowers.

He walked past the throngs of patients crowding the lobby, most standing in lines to get their case-papers made. The central staircase was to his left and he walked sedately up first one flight and then the next several until he had reached the third floor. There was no point rushing, he figured. The body was not going to go anywhere.

Glancing around, he spotted a constable outside one of the doors leading into doctors’ cabins. Dougan felt a twinge of surprise when he realized that he had been to this very OPD room only a few weeks ago for his lung function tests. The constable on duty outside the door saluted him, but Dougan didn’t notice. He was staring at the label on the wall beside the door: TB & CHEST. He walked through the doorway.

Naik was inside, speaking to a nurse who was seated near the doctor’s desk. She was holding a cup with both hands and Dougan saw she had been crying. She saw him first and got up, putting the tea down on the desk. Naik turned in surprise then saw who it was. “Good morning, sir.”

But Dougan was looking at the nurse. “Sister Anita.”

Sister Anita dabbed her eyes with a hanky. “Inspector…” she murmured.

Naik looked surprised. “Uh, you two know each other?”

“This is where I come for my asthma. Sister Anita is usually here, and-” He stopped then looked about before turning to Naik.

“Where’s Dr. Saxena?” But before Naik could reply, Dougan’s face went slack. “You said on the phone that a doctor fell out of a window three floors high. That was Saxena?”

Naik nodded. “Well, at this stage I don’t know if he fell, was pushed or jumped. But,” He nodded again, slowly. “Yes, it was Saxena…”

Dougan felt for the inhaler he always carried in his pocket. It was a new canister, one that he had not yet been forced to use. It was Dr. Saxena who had advised him to change the medication at the last visit. He said it was a newer formula, with a window showing how many puffs had already been used.

Dougan waved Anita to her chair and sat down heavily on a stool. “Tell me what happened.”

The nurse paused to collect her thoughts. “About thirty minutes back, the doctor was here, inside the cabin with a patient. I had gone out to get some prescription forms from one of the rooms across and I locked the door so none of the patients waiting outside would disturb them. It took me five minutes to get them and when I unlocked the door and came inside this room, I found only the patient who was lying on the bed. The doctor was not here, which I couldn’t understand at all, because the door – when it is locked from the outside, like I had done – cannot be opened from inside. So, I just stood there, stunned that he had vanished. And then I heard the noises. They were coming from outside the window, from below, so I went there and then I-” She hesitated, visibly pained at the memory. “-saw him, just lying there…”

Dougan frowned. “But you said the patient was still inside…”

Anita sighed. “Vicky is mentally challenged, Inspector. She doesn’t understand what goes on around her most of the time. That’s why her mother has to accompany her for these visits.” She gestured to the door. “She’s still here, with her mother. You can try talking to her. I already did, and so did Mr. Naik.”

Naik confirmed this with a nod. “I asked about what happened inside but she doesn’t appear to understand what I’m saying.”

Dougan went to the lone window. It was wide, with a low ledge and double-shutters that opened outward. As in most olden style affairs, there were no grills. “Is this window normally open?”

“I open it as soon as I enter.” said Anita. “Sometimes it gets stuffy in here…”

He leaned out, peering sideways. There was no way anyone could have climbed from outside. And even if an assailant had ascended from beyond, he would have been spotted from below. Looking downward, a frown settled on his features. “Have you moved the body already?”

Naik approached him, and said in a low voice. “Sir, I got a call from the Commissioner. He told me to hurry up with processing the crime-scene. It looks like the hospital M.S. got upset about a corpse messing up the front-lawn. They’ve shifted the body to the morgue for post-mortem.”

Dougan nodded, recalling that his radiologist had been summoned for an emergency meeting. “So we don’t know what happened. If he was pushed, only two people could have done it…”

“The obvious suspect is the patient.” said Naik. “But Vicky can’t walk.” He was pointing at the far-wall. Dougan looked. It was a wheelchair. “I’m not a medical expert but the girl looks very frail. Her arms and legs are thin. Sister told me she had to lift her from the wheelchair with the mother’s help to put her on the examination bed. And she was there when the nurse returned.”

Dougan looked puzzled. “If Vicky is outside, why is her wheelchair in here?”

It was Anita who replied. “I told the mother she would have to wait until the police came. She didn’t want to, so I locked the wheelchair inside this room until Mr. Naik arrived.” There was a chagrined look on her face.

“How old is Vicky?”

‘Uh, 13 or 14…”

“So she’s a minor. And she has obvious medical problems that make it necessary for one parent to be present during the check-up. So why was she alone in the room with the doctor when you went out to get your forms?”

Anita thought for a few moments. Then she nodded. “Okay, I remember. Saxena wanted to know what inhaler she was using. She had met a private physician when Saxena was on leave last month. It was in the car, and Saxena told her mother to go fetch it while he did a physical exam.”

“And at exactly the same time, you decide to go out to get your forms?”

“Well, the doctor told me to. I hadn’t actually realized the chits were over until he told me. And when he said to get some more, I obeyed his instructions there and then.”

“Leaving the doctor alone in the room with his patient, a young girl who is not only mentally challenged, but has a serious degree of physical impairment.” said Dougan slowly.

Anita looked flustered. “Doctor, what exactly are you suggesting?”

“Tell me, sister, isn’t it protocol for a nurse or female relative to be present while a male doctor is examining a lady patient?”

Anita was looking at the ground, with a pained expression.

“Sir, it doesn’t change the fact that Vicky couldn’t have pushed him out.” said Naik softly.

Dougan conceded that fact with a slow nod. “So the patient is not a suspect.”

“Which leaves the second suspect.” said Anita. “Me, right?” Neither police officer answered. “I read novels, Inspector. I know what you’re thinking: I could have pushed the doctor out beforeI went out for the prescription forms.”

Dougan looked at her with a small smile. “Well, we can’t rule you out just yet, Sister.” He turned to Naik. “And we can’t rule out the other possibility: if Saxena wasn’t pushed then he jumped…”

Naik spoke. “I was talking to sister about the doctor’s mental status when you arrived.”

“There was nothing wrong with him.” said Anita firmly. “He checked four patients before Vicky and he looked and sounded perfectly normal to me. Nothing was out of the ordinary at all.”

“Did he receive any calls or visitors other than patients this morning?”

“His wife called, and he spoke to her about plans they had for a late lunch. That doesn’t seem like the act of someone who’s going to jump out of a window.”

“And if he really wanted to commit suicide, why jump from only three floors up?” wondered Dougan. He had wandered over to the doctor’s desk. There were three flower baskets on a side table behind the desk. He studied the card stapled to one of them. The card was scrawled:Happy birthday, dearest Anita! Dougan thought to himself that she would remember this birthday for a long time to come. One of the bouquets had fallen to the ground. Dougan crouched to pick it up, and he set it next to the others.

He sat at the desk, casting an eye over the contents. A Micromax mobile phone lay next to a leather pouch with Saxena’s name printed on it. When Dougan tried to open it, it asked for a password. He lowered it and unzipped the pouch. He found a pack of tissues, a comb, a roll-on deodorant and a steroid inhaler. He looked at the nurse in surprise. “Was Saxena asthmatic?”

She nodded gravely. “When I was transferred here three months ago, he told me he opted for TB & Chest because his father suffered from bronchitis. I guess he inherited the same problem…”

Dougan shook his head; he had sat in this office several times in the past, talking about his own troubles, lying back to be examined or sitting for his lung function tests, and never once had he suspected that Saxena was a fellow sufferer. Would it have made his own sufferings easier to bear, knowing that the physician at whose hands he was placing himself understood what he was going through? It was while he was lost in contemplation that Dougan heard the sound. He cocked his head. It was a hissing sound, but it was faint. “Sister, put off the fan please.”

And when the ceiling fan died they all heard it. Sister Anita knew what it was at once. She went to the bed and reached for the oxygen cylinder beneath. She turned off the valve and stopped the flow of oxygen. A face-mask connected to the supply tubing was on the ground, and she stooped to pick it up and loop it into place.

“Was Vicky administered oxygen this morning?” Dougan wanted to know.

Anita shook her head. “That’s my job. If she had needed oxygen, Saxena would have told me and I would have set it up. In fact, none of the patients this morning needed oxygen.” She shook her head, puzzled. “I don’t know why it was turned on…”

“Saxena is asthmatic.” pointed out Naik.

Dougan looked at him sharply.

But Anita shook her head. “He had his inhaler if he got an attack. And thought he gets attacks frequently, I’ve never seen him so bad that he would need oxygen. He would resort to nebulisation if he really needed quick relief.”

“So why was the cylinder turned on?” Naik asked. “And if it wasn’t you, it had to be Saxena who turned it on. Why?”

Dougan had a scowl as he looked over the room slowly, methodically. “There’s something we’re not seeing here, Naik… we have a doctor who is asthmatic, an oxygen cylinder than has been left running, and then a situation in which, if he wasn’t pushed, the doctor jumps out of the room through the window.” He shook his head, frustrated. “What happened in here in that time-frame between the sister leaving and her return?” But the room yielded nothing to his probing eyes. “Sister, take the wheelchair out and bring Vicky and her mother in here. I want to talk to her.” He waved Naik’s objections aside. “I know: you spoke to them, but maybe you didn’t ask the right questions.”

Dougan settled into Saxena’s chair at the desk and waited for them to be brought in. The mother entered first, a bespectacled woman with a worried expression. She hesitated as the wheelchair inched through the doorway and into the room, bearing her daughter.

Dougan found himself straightening at the sight of the girl. She was a pretty thing, face gaunt, with thin arms laid on her lap. But she had a peaceful look about her that Dougan found disconcerting. He had decided to ask a few tough questions of mother and daughter. But looking at them now, he was reluctant to proceed. Anita halted the wheelchair alongside the desk. She stood at the girl’s side, staring at the inspector expectantly.

Dougan was at a loss on how to proceed. All thought of interrogation suddenly seemed a distant memory. He licked his lips and then his eyes widened when he saw her smile. One of her arms came up and she pointed to something behind him. “Flowers!” she exclaimed. “Very pretty…”

Dougan half-turned towards the floral array, and then he lifted one of the smaller bouquets. Maybe the gesture would help break the ice, establish some sort of bond, he reasoned. Still seated, he swiveled, holding the basket when something black darted out of the flowers.

The inspector recognized the insect and he reacted without hesitation. Letting the bouquet fall onto the surface of the desk, he ducked into his chair and pushing it back, jumped as far away from the desk as he could.

Naik voiced the surprise of everyone inside the room, saying: “Sir, it’s just a bee.”

Still watching the bee as it hovered about the flowers before settling on one of them, he snapped back. “It might be just a bee to you. But when you’re as hyper-reactive as I am, you can’t take a chance. One sting and I could go straight into shock.” He jabbed a finger at the bouquet. “Since you’re so brave, Naik, keep that basket out on the window ledge so the damn bee can fly out.”

He watched from a safe distance as Naik obliged. Naik was fortunate he wasn’t one of those hyper-sensitive individuals. The lucky guy probably had no idea what kind of terrible, even life-threatening situations could arise from such a trivial thing. One sting and Dougan would no doubt have swollen up like a balloon. Not to mention-

Dougan’s breath caught in his throat, and he almost swayed. A bee sting! He thought, staggered. He had found a basket of flowers on the floor. Could Saxena have been attacked by a bee? He closed his eyes, trying to re-construct the sequence of events as it might have played out.

Naik turned, frowning when he saw Dougan had shut his eyes. “Uh, sir – the bee’s gone…”

When Dougan opened his eyes, there was a steely glint in them. “Did you examine the body?”

Naik sounded defensive. “Sir, it was face-down and one of the limbs was pinned underneath, so I didn’t exactly-”

Dougan snorted. “Follow me.” He strode out with Naik on his heels. “Call whoever’s with the body at the morgue. Get the doctor to check for any swelling or sting marks on the exposed parts. Focus on the hands, arms, neck, and face. Tell him we’re on our way there.”

Naik made the call, walking quickly to keep pace with his boss. “Sir, wait!” Dougan halted, turning to face Naik. Naik was looking stunned. “I spoke directly to the doctor. He didn’t have to check. Saxena’s right forearm is swollen; when I mentioned a bee sting, he agreed immediately with my assessment, said it fit his findings…”

Dougan nodded slowly. “So now we know…” He sank into a chair meant for patients. Naik stood in front of him, still dazed. “Saxena is asthmatic. Perhaps like me, he is also hyper-reactive. Inside, alone with Vicky, he was stung by a bee. If the reaction was instantaneous, he must have rushed to the door. Finding it locked, feeling his breathing becoming labored, he went to the oxygen cylinder. But it wouldn’t have been enough if he began to go into shock.” His shoulders dropped. “In those final moments, maybe that open window was like a beacon. Maybe, in desperation, he flung himself toward it…”

Naik blinked several times, processing this data. “But the window is always open, according to the nurse. And despite all those bees outside the window, he never had a problem before,.”

Dougan gave a sad smile. “The bees were always out there, attracted to the blue flowers growing on the creepers. But this morning was different. Today was sister Anita’s birthday. She placed all the bouquets she received behind his desk. That’s what must have drawn the bee in.” He shook his head. “All it took was one sting…”

__END__

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