Doors Without Numbers by C.D. Neill

She was older than him as I said, but she seemed to have some kind of authority over him. She explained Mr Callum’s symptoms during the first visit which he confirmed. It was she who asked that I prescribe anti-depressants with the reasoning that nothing else had worked.”
    “Did you see any medical notes from his previous doctor?”
    Hammond knew that the investigation on Mark Callum’s death had found no medical history to refer to but it was possible that Doctor Kondaveeti had been given some information when Callum had registered as a new patient.
    “No, I was told they were in the post.”
    Doctor Kondaveeti was trying his best to be helpful. He added that the receptionist couldn’t find any record of the previous doctor’s name or surgery that Callum had given on his registration form and presumed that it had been a misunderstanding
    “No doubt the matter would have been chased further if Mr Callum had not died.”
    “Did he return after the third visit?”
    “No. I guess my advice worked.”
    It was evident the doctor couldn’t help Hammond any further. Hammond gave his thanks to the doctor and ended the call. He took another bite from the sandwich causing tomato ketchup to spurt onto his hand. He licked it away. He hadn’t found the conversation with the doctor particularly enlightening, but it had added credibility to the belief that Callum had killed himself. The only question Hammond had now was the identity of the woman whom had accompanied Callum on his first visit to the surgery. There was no doubt that Callum had no family, but it was possible he had an older girlfriend at the time.
    His thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the glass. He looked up, licking his lips to see Emma waving a yellow post-it note. He gestured for her to deliver the message.
    “There was a message from Mr Ben Dover. He said you could come in the back entrance later.”
    She looked at Hammond in astonishment when he spluttered chewed food over his chin and rushed over to slap her hand on his back as he sat choking. His face had turned a purple hue. It took several seconds before his coughing fit had subsided. A perplexed Emma returned to her duties after a rather hysterical Hammond had reassured her that he was well enough to be left alone.

C HAPTER S IX
    As Hammond drove past the bronze statue of William Harvey at the hospital, he checked the digital clock on the car dashboard. He was late. He parked his vehicle in the staff car park, hoping Henderson had remembered the car registration correctly when he had pre-warned the parking attendants of his impending visit. The last thing Hammond wanted was to have his car clamped. With the last minute decision to play it safe, he leaned back into the car fumbling in the glove compartment and extracted a laminated sign showing the Kent Police emblem. He placed it in full view on the dashboard and depressed the automatic lock button on his key fob. The smell of boiled cabbages from the hospital kitchens suspended itself in the cold air bringing back memories of Hammond’s childhood visits to his grandmother.
    Dr Ed Henderson stubbornly refused to acknowledge Hammond’s presence for several minutes after his arrival; he was studying a cadaver on the stainless steel table, occasionally talking into a small tape recorder. Eventually he paused his examination and walked over to where the Detective Inspector stood patiently. Henderson’s sharp gaze took note of the spluttered ketchup stains on Hammond’s shirt evident under the open overcoat. He placed his tape recorder down on a table next to where Hammond stood.
    “With all the muck we inevitably find ourselves working in, I find it helps to keep clean clothes at the office.”
    Hammond followed Henderson to the morgue ignoring the comment and waited for Graham’s Roberts remains to be uncovered.
    “The good news is that there was no difficulty establishing a cause of death. The bad news is that it may be difficult to prove he