Desperate Measures by Cath Staincliffe Page A

sat with a pile of folders on her knees, face drawn. Beside her was the receptionist Vicky Stonnall, young, plump with her head dyed an improbable shiny purple and sporting oversized rings and a golden necklace like a mayoral chain. Opposite them were Dr Gupta and the practice nurse. The doctor wore black-rimmed glasses perched half way down her nose, her hair salt and pepper. Janine judged her to be in her 40s. Nurse Dawn Langan had been crying, nose pink at the end, and had a balled up tissue in her hand. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
    ‘Have you found Dr McKee?’ Ms Ling asked.
    ‘We have,’ Janine said, ‘he was involved in a road accident, he’s fine, just cuts and bruises, but that’s why he can’t be here today. Now, we’ll be talking to you each in turn, using the consulting rooms for privacy. Ms Ling, if you could come with us.’
    Once Janine and Richard were settled with Ms Ling in the other room, the practice manager said, ‘I’ve already made a list of Don’s appointments yesterday, including his home visits.’
    ‘Any of these names cause for concern?’ Janine asked.
    ‘No,’ Ms Ling said.
              ‘How was Dr Halliwell regarded?’
    ‘Well respected, his list was always full. You hear so much these days about people never seeing the same GP twice in a row, not knowing them but Don believed the doctor-patient relationship was essential. He would care for several generations of the same family. He was very popular.’
    ‘Did anyone ever threaten him?’
    ‘Oh, we all get our share of abuse,’ Ms Ling said, ‘it goes with the territory. But it’s a small minority of people.’
    ‘And what about formal complaints?’ Richard said.
    ‘Those too,’ Ms Ling said.
    ‘Anybody spring to mind? Anything current?’ Janine said.
              ‘Adele Young, her daughter Marcie.’
    ‘Dr Halliwell attended Marcie’s inquest on Monday?’
    ‘That’s right. Accidental death. Marcie was a heroin user. When she died, from an overdose of street drugs, Mrs Young instigated a formal complaint. She believed that Dr Halliwell had reduced Marcie’s methadone dosage too quickly. The coroner fully exonerated Don. But the internal complaints process still has to run its course.’
    ‘Sergeant Butchers will follow-up on these and any other complaints, if you can make sure he has all the notes. He’s going to be based here for now,’ Janine said, ‘and will be going through Dr Halliwell’s appointments.’
    ‘Yes, of course,’ Ms Ling said.
    ‘How did Dr Halliwell get along with the rest of the staff?’ Janine said.
    ‘Fine,’ Ms Ling said, ‘well...except for Fraser.’
    Janine felt her pulse speed up.
    ‘They didn’t always see eye to eye,’ Ms Ling said, ‘there was a confrontation yesterday.’
    ‘A confrontation?’ Richard said.
    ‘Don informed Fraser that he wouldn’t be made partner. Fraser didn’t take it well.’
    ‘Did he make any threats?’ Richard said.
    ‘No,’ Ms Ling said, ‘he was just very angry, disappointed.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Janine said. ‘If you think of anything else do please tell Sergeant Butchers or contact any of us via the helpline.’
    Ms Ling nodded.
    As Janine went to ask Dr Gupta to come through, Ms Ling stopped to talk to someone at the fire door. Janine watched Ms Ling guide the caller, who was delivering an oxygen cylinder, along the corridor and heard him ask about Dr Halliwell. The murder had shaken the community to the core. Like Roper said, most of the gang violence was contained within the gangs and their associates but here was a middle class professional gunned down at his place of work. People needed reassurances, and they needed answers.
    Receptionist Vicky Stonnall couldn’t think of any reason why someone would harm Dr Halliwell. But when asked to describe the day in detail Vicky said, ‘There were some sort of ructions going on, yesterday. Fraser had a face like thunder. You