Implant (DI Gardener 3)

“Who was the first?”

“A doctor at St. James’s Hospital in Leeds, where our victim ended up. Andrew Jackson. Do you know him?”

“I certainly do. He’s a very good orthopaedic specialist. I imagine this stuff is a little out of his league – as it is mine, to be perfectly honest.”

“Is the likelihood of it being a doctor quite high?” asked Gardener.

“I would say so, Mr Gardener, although I’d like to think not. Doctors are supposed to save lives. I would think the person who has done this has extensive medical knowledge. They have known exactly where to place both devices, and how to modify them in order to achieve the maximum result. In the latter case, especially with the teeth, I think you should speak to my colleague, Iain Ross, he is a very gifted neurosurgeon and may be able to help.”

“We’re also looking for any leads on manufacturers. Can you help?” Reilly asked, having finished his scones and biscuits and no doubt eaten enough for all three of them.

Sinclair studied them both. “As I’ve told you, it won’t be easy. I’ll write down a couple of names.”

He did so while he continued talking. “One of them is local, a company called KarGen, operating in Hunslet, a large industrial estate. The other company, called Hospitech, is just outside Stockton in the North East. I’ve also added the name of the company director. You may find it carries more clout to know that. And by all means, mention my name if it helps.”

He passed over the paper with the names and addresses. “As I said, gentlemen, I really don’t hold out much hope after what I’ve told you. Naturally, I don’t expect you to tell them what you’ve told me, but they’re still going to be very cautious.”

“On the contrary, Mr Sinclair, you’ve given us more than anyone else.”

“There is always the possibility that neither pump belongs to them, and should that be the case, don’t hesitate to contact me, and I’ll try and point you in another direction.” Sinclair glanced at his watch. “I would love to allow you more time, Mr Gardener, but I do have an afternoon surgery to run.”

“You’ve been more

than helpful,” said Gardener, rising from his chair. “Nice place you have here.”

“A lot of hard work. After my wife died, I wasn’t sure I wanted to continue living here. Too many memories, you understand. But there was a lot more at stake than just the house. My practice, my reputation, but most of all, the fact that Theresa would have wanted me to continue.”

It was something Gardener understood all too well. He was about to turn and leave when he noticed a trophy in a cabinet behind Sinclair.

“Sporting man?” he asked.

Sinclair followed his line of sight. “Not really. Take a closer look, I was the Junior Scrabble Champion, sometime back in 1972.”

Gardener wandered over. There were more trophies, awards for crossword puzzles, and other word related games. A name that Gardener had almost forgotten popped out at him: Walker Brothers. He mentioned it to Sinclair.

“The crossword trophies are my mother’s. She compiles them, but at one time she actually used to work for Walker’s, here in Leeds.”

“That must have been beneficial for a young man who had such an interest in Scrabble.”

“You could say. Though Scrabble wasn’t one of theirs. I must have had a copy of everything they ever released. Before anyone else, I might add.”

“Really?”

Gardener wondered if he was on to something. He decided to draw out the game cards. He was probably hoping for too much, but one never knew. He passed them over to Sinclair.

“Wouldn’t happen to recognize those, would you?”

Sinclair stared quite hard at the cards. “They ring a bell, though I’m not sure from what game.”

“So you recognise them?”

“Only vaguely, Mr Gardener. It’s the kind of thing that was around in the Seventies. Look at the cheeky innuendoes, almost as if they were from a ‘Carry On’ film. But I’m afraid that’s as far as my knowledge extends.”

“So, it isn’t a game that came from the Walker Brothers’ stable?” asked Reilly.

“Not as far as I can remember,” said Sinclair, checking his watch. “Now, if there isn’t anything else, maybe you will excuse me.”

Both detectives thanked Sinclair for his time before leaving.