the hospital murder case (part eighteen)

This story started here.

She turned to Neil. "Please take a look at the window," she said "Do you think anybody could have got into the room that way?"

He went over and pulled the curtains aside. He looked out, then he took the bottom of the window and tried to open it. It didn't budge, and he set his feet, took a deep breath, and tried again, and this time the window raised, slowly. Cold air came in as he leaned out and looked around.

He closed the window and turned to face us. "Could it be done? Yes. Do I think it was? No. There is no ledge, no place to stand, and the window is hard to raise. If you had a couple of days to plan, and the right equipment, it would be possible. But, under these circumstances, I can't see it. Besides, it wouldn't make sense to drug Rafe if you were going to come in through the window."

"That was my conclusion also." she said, "Now, I'd like to show you something in the next room."

They left through the connecting door, and closed it behind them.

Rafe and Dorothy were stone-faced. No matter what, I was sure they were both feeling some strong emotions, but they didn't reveal what those emotions might have been.

Mona was trying to be cool, but she was smoking more than usual. She would have scoffed at the suggestion that she felt protective of the hospital, but I know she wasn't looking forward to reading tomorrow's newspaper.

Jan and Neil came back in, and she said, "Neil, do you want to describe what you saw?"

He gestured that she should tell it. She pointed at the row of aluminum cabinets on the wall. "As in all of the rooms here, that room has a row of cabinets like these. Locked cabinets. I work in the hospital myself, and I know that these cabinets are always locked. However, the lock on one of those cabinets, the one containing, among other things, sleeping pills, is broken. The cabinet is closed, so it isn't immediately obvious that it's broken, but it is. I examined it, and my conclusion, which Neil agreed with, was that it was forced, rather than being a result of normal wear and tear."

previous || about || home || next

Print Friendly, PDF & Email

About Anthony Lee Collins

I write.
This entry was posted in stories. Bookmark the permalink.

Comments are closed.