Twenty minutes earlier, the officer guarding Suzanne Carroll’s hospital room had called to say she’d woken from her coma and was able to talk. At first, she’d been confused. But as her thoughts had become clearer, and she’d realised where she was, and what had brought her there, her confusion had quickly turned to fear. She’d muttered something about Stirling’s mother, and a nun in the chapel, lashing her arms about wildly before the doctor treating her was forced to administer a low-dose sedative. She’d fallen asleep, but the officer didn’t think it would be too long before she woke up.
Just as Drake pulled into a space at Kingston Hospital, Carver’s phone rang. It was Jim Turner. He and Keel had headed over to Janis Stirling’s place first thing that morning to question her about Suzanne Carroll and examine her computer.
‘Carver here.’
‘Sir, as we’d suspected, Janis Stirling didn’t contact Carroll asking to meet up at Hampton Court Maze. Although she remembers her from Stirling’s Oxford days, they’ve not crossed paths in some time.’
‘Did you find anything suspect on her machine?’
‘Yes, sir. Picked up the same virus we found on Williams’ and Stirling’s machines when I ran the scan.’
‘What did she say when you told her? Did she have any idea?’
‘Not at first. Not until I probed.’
‘And?’
‘She said that around a week ago, a man called, claiming to work for BT, her internet service provider. He told her she was due an upgrade on her system but needed her to confirm her username and password.’
‘Christ. And she believed him?’
‘She’s an elderly woman, sir. This kind of thing happens fairly frequently.’
Carver leant back against the headrest. ‘Yes, I suppose that’s true. Find out if she keeps her phone records. We might be able to trace the call to a specific location. And try and get her to remember the date and approximate time of the call.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Are you any closer to narrowing down the source of the virus?’
‘My team are working on it round the clock, sir. I’ll let you know as soon as I have anything.’
‘Good.’ Carver hung up, relayed the latest to Drake, then got out of the car. As they walked towards the hospital entrance, he barely noticed a young nun brush past him.
***
‘Bloody hell!’ Maddy had just stepped into the shower when she heard the phone ring. She was tempted to leave it. But her grandmother was always at the back of her mind. What if she’s had a fall, needs my help? She’d never forgive herself if something terrible happened to Rose, all because she’d been too lazy to answer the phone.
She hopped out, shivering as she wrapped a towel around herself, and dashed barefoot into the living room. The phone rang off just as she was about to pick it up. Typical! She was about to dial 1471 to see who’d called when it rang again. She answered immediately.
‘Hello.’
‘Madeline?’
She knew that voice. It was Paul’s mother, Evelyn.
‘Evelyn? How are you?’
‘I’m very well, thank you. I just wondered if my son’s there?’
Maddy frowned in surprise. She eyed the wall clock: 12.30. Paul had left for Evelyn’s fifty minutes ago. ‘But he’s with you, isn’t he?’ she asked. At the same time, a feeling of dread pervaded her as she imagined something terrible had happened to Paul en route to Evelyn’s. The killings had curbed her usual optimism; made her fear the worst.
Evelyn chuckled. ‘Me? What on earth would make you think that? I’ve not seen Paul since the start of last summer.’
Maddy took a step back, sat trance-like on the sofa. ‘But, but he said he saw you yesterday.’
Silence. Then, ‘I’m afraid my son’s been lying to you, Madeline. We had a major falling out in early June. After I told him I was marrying Philip.’ Another shock. Maddy couldn’t speak. ‘He didn’t tell you?’
‘No, he didn’t.’
‘He accused me of being a selfish tramp, who’d driven his father to an early grave and should never have been allowed to bring a child into this world. I was devastated, told him to get out. Philip and I married in Lake Como in August. It was a beautiful day, but my one regret is that my only child wasn’t there to share in my happiness.’ A pause. Maddy thought she heard Evelyn dragging on a cigarette. ‘I take it he’s not told you any of this?’
‘No,’ Maddy said faintly.
‘I wasn’t the best mother, I’ll grant Paul that. But I’m guessing he’s never told you that George wasn’t the best husband. Fact is, he changed as soon as we were married – went as cold as stone. He was married to his work, rather than to me. Plus, he had a temper. When I complained to him that we never did anything together, that I was lonely, he would fly off the handle. Tell me I was ungrateful. That if I didn’t shut my mouth, I’d be out on the streets.’
‘Paul’s never mentioned any of that,’ Maddy said. Just like he’s never mentioned his feelings for Stirling.
‘No, I bet he hasn’t. Paul worshipped his father. He was devastated by his death. I know that, deep down, no matter what he says about me, he blames himself. Thinks he broke his father’s heart when he told him he was gay.’
‘And did he?’
Another lull. ‘Yes, I’m afraid he did. We always knew Paul was different, right from an early age. He was a strange little boy, locked in his own world. He didn’t make friends easily, kept himself to himself. In fact, when I think about it, you’re the closest friend he’s ever had.’
Neither spoke for a while, until Maddy broke the hush. ‘What made you pick up the phone to Paul now?’
‘It’s been seven months, it’s the New Year. I thought it was about time one of us got in touch. Plus, one of my friends saw him having a drink with his therapist yesterday evening.’
‘His therapist?’ If Maddy hadn’t been sitting down, she might have fallen over in shock. Why had Paul told her he’d met Justin for a drink the night before – even fabricating some row?
‘Yes, Marcia Devereux. You must have known her. She was in your year at the academy.’
‘Marcia Devereux,’ Maddy mumbled, still in shock. Lisa’s friend, the one who found her body. Shy, always sitting at the back, afraid to speak. Not the best-looking girl in the year, although there was nothing wrong with that.
‘You remember her?’
‘Yes, yes, I do. But Paul and Marcia weren’t friends as far as I know. And she left after the first year.’
‘You’re right, I don’t think they were friends at the academy. They met, quite by chance, about a year ago. Paul didn’t go into much detail, but from what I could gather, Marcia decided law wasn’t for her and, as you said, left after the first year. She trained as a clinical psychologist, psychology having been her undergraduate degree. Last year, Paul decided he needed to see a therapist, and it turned out to be Marcia. Small world, isn’t it? I’m surprised you didn’t know.’
‘Yes, so am I,’ Maddy said vacantly. ‘I had no idea he was depressed.’
‘As I said, Paul’s wasn’t an easy childhood. My son has a lot of issues. And his father’s death crushed him.’ Another drag. ‘It’s a nasty business about James Stirling. George and I were good friends with him and Elizabeth once. Did Paul tell you?’
‘Yes, I’d heard that.’ Maddy skirted the truth.
‘We lost touch after George died. It’s not for want of me trying, but for some strange reason, the Stirlings went cold on me. If truth be told, I felt rather let down, as I’m sure Paul did. But I have to say, I’m shocked by James’ arrest. I’d like to think I know him pretty well, and so I’m finding it hard to believe he’s a murderer.’
‘Yes, I think we all are.’
‘What does Paul make of it?’
‘He thinks Stirling’s guilt is beyond doubt.’
‘Well, judging by the news reports, I can’t argue with that. But my son’s attitude surprises me. I always thought h
e was rather fond of James. Will you let him know I called?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Maddy hung up. How could she not have known that Paul was seeing a therapist? Why had he hidden something so huge from her?
What else is he hiding?
Chapter Forty
‘She’s dead, sir.’
‘Dead? How’s that fucking possible? She’d only just bloody woken up!’
Carver glared at PC Benson, the officer on duty, attempting to prise a credible explanation out of him. They’d arrived at Suzanne Carroll’s hospital room to find an army of doctors and nurses fluttering around her bed, frantically trying to keep their patient alive. She’d gone into cardiac arrest out of the blue, and after numerous attempts to shock her heart into action, they’d called it a day. Time of death: 12.45 pm.
‘I don’t know, sir. I was here all the time.’
‘You were here all the time?’ Carver eyed Benson sceptically. They were stood in Carroll’s room, the door wide open.
‘Yes, sir.’ Benson bit his lip, his itinerant eyes betraying a guilty conscience. ‘Aside for about five minutes, when I gave her and the nun a bit of time.’
‘What nun?’ Just then, Carver had a flashback: a brush of shoulders as he’d reached the hospital entrance. Black cloth, black trainers. And hadn’t the groundsmen at Hampton Court mentioned there’d been a nun wandering the maze?
‘From Carroll’s church. She came to visit. Almost like she’d sensed Carroll mumbling for her when she first woke up. Ironic really. I needed to relieve myself and I didn’t see the harm. I was only away five minutes.’
‘Ironic!’ Carver bawled, attracting an audience of frowny nurses and shocked patients in the corridor. ‘It’s not bloody ironic, it’s why she’s dead, you bloody moron! Do you remember what she looked like?’
Benson looked at Drake for help but got none. ‘You think the nun killed her?’
‘I think the nun was no goddamn nun!’ More stunned looks and grimaces all round. Drake could make out a bulging vein running across Carver’s forehead.
‘Jesus,’ Benson mouthed. ‘She was around five-ten, dark eyes, rather large nose. Late twenties, early thirties I should say. Quite a heavy-set lady. Looked like she could take care of herself, certainly not a dainty thing.’ He leaned closer, whispered, ‘Or much of a looker. Not surprised she went for the profession she did. Let’s just say, you wouldn’t expect many blokes knocking on her door.’
Carver was about to have a heart attack himself when a doctor appeared. ‘Who’s in charge here?’ he asked calmly, although his face told a different story.
‘I am,’ Carver said. ‘Do we know what killed her?’
‘Potassium cyanide. God only knows how it happened. It was injected in the upper arm.’
Carver glared again at Benson. ‘I think I have some idea.’ He looked up at the ceiling. ‘Do you have CCTV in this ward?’
‘Yes.’
‘I need to look at the footage.’
‘Now?’
‘Yes, now!’
***
‘I don’t understand it,’ the security guard said. Carver and Drake stood looking over his bulky shoulders at the TV monitor. The screen was blank.
‘You say all the wards have cameras?’ Carver asked.
‘Yes.’
The guard rewound the tape, tried again. There was no footage of the ICU ward between 11.30 and 12.30.
‘She disabled it before entering the building.’ Carver turned to Drake. ‘Like she did at Channing & Barton before killing Frank and Sarah.’ He was still struggling with the idea that all this time, they’d been hunting a woman.
‘What about reception?’ Drake asked.
The security guard shifted his chair across to face a different screen, displaying the main reception area. He pressed Play on the tape, then Rewind. Carver leaned in closer, scrutinising the image. And then he saw it – the back of the nun. A surprisingly broad figure, dressed in a black tunic, head lowered, walking out of the main entrance. From behind, if it wasn’t for the veil, you certainly wouldn’t have been able to tell it was a woman.
‘We need Benson to give a full description to a sketch artist. Give him a copy of this image too. It’s clear she got to Carroll, but as a matter of routine, all hospital staff and patients will need to be questioned. Check the visitors’ log as well. We’re so close, Drake.’
‘I can’t believe the killer’s female,’ Drake said. ‘All this time I just assumed we were after a man.’
‘I know, Drake. It’s easy to make assumptions. But by all accounts, we don’t appear to be dealing with a delicate wallflower. Judging by Benson’s description, and the fact that, save for Carroll, the victims have generally been of slim build, I’m betting she didn’t have too much trouble overpowering them. She knows we’re onto her. For the first time, she’s on the back foot, and we need to bring her to heel.’
***
‘How’s your mother?’
Paul walked into the living room, slung his bag on the floor, then bent over to kiss Maddy on the cheek. She pretended to casually flick through a magazine, despite not being able to relax since Evelyn King’s call.
‘The usual.’
Why the fuck are you lying? she wanted to scream. Instead, she said, ‘How so?’
‘Oh, you know, full of herself. She and Philip are having problems. Apparently, he doesn’t pay her enough attention. In truth, I reckon she’s just getting bored of him. Planning on husband number three.’
‘Husband number three?’ Maddy sat up, looked Paul straight in the eye. ‘I didn’t know she was married to number two.’
He cleared his throat. ‘Didn’t you? Er, yeah, she did it on the quiet a couple of months back. Some registry office in Putney. Couldn’t bring myself to go.’
More lies. One after the other. What’s he playing at? What’s he hiding?
Maddy got up. Placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘You know you can tell me anything, don’t you? I’m always here for you. I won’t judge you in any way.’
Paul laughed uneasily. ‘What are you saying, Mads? You’re making me nervous. I’m fine. Really, I am.’
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I just wanted you to know that.’
***
‘DCI Carver, it’s Dominic Avery.’
Carver had been waiting anxiously for Avery to get back to him with his report from the maze. The killer had failed to finish the job there. It was the first chink in her perfectly executed plan. Maybe this time she’d left something incriminating.
‘Yes, Avery?’
‘We’ve found something.’
Carver shifted in his seat. ‘What is it?’
‘Blood. On one of the hedge walls of the maze. Near the centre. There was a rather large gap there. Large enough for someone to hide. We also found traces of sweat.’
‘Sweat? At this time of the year. Who sweats in January?’
‘I don’t know, Chief Inspector. Maybe a killer about to be caught?’
Carver considered this. Avery was right. The killer had still been inside when the groundsmen had entered the maze. With no time to lose, she’d hidden within the space Avery had described until they’d gone. Perhaps cutting herself on a thorn as she’d scrambled to get in, or out.
‘You still there, Chief Inspector?’
Carver stirred from his thoughts. ‘Yes, sorry, still here.’
‘There’s something else.’
‘Yes?’
‘The DNA was female.’
‘I see.’
‘You don’t sound surprised.’
‘I’m not. Had you heard Carroll’s dead?’
‘Yes, one of my team informed me half an hour ago.’
Carver told Avery about the nun who’d visited Carroll moments before she was found dead.
‘So you think it could be her DNA?’
‘Almost certainly. Have you run a check on the system yet?’
‘No. I wanted to speak to you first.’
/> ‘Do it and get back to me ASAP.’
***
‘Did you speak to Maddy Kramer about Paul King?’
Tuesday, 5 pm. Carver sat across from Stirling. He looked different. Whereas yesterday his eyes had been dead, now they showed signs of life. They had lit up as soon as Carver had entered the room.
‘Not yet.’
Stirling frowned. The light had quickly been extinguished. ‘Why?’
‘Because events took over.’
‘What events?’
‘Suzanne Carroll died this morning.’
Stirling opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
‘Do you need some water?’ Carver asked.
‘No, I … I don’t understand. I thought she was stable.’
‘She was. In fact, early this morning she woke up, and I was on my way to question her when it happened.’
‘What happened exactly?’
Carver noticed Stirling’s eyes were glistening. He had clearly cared for Carroll. ‘She was injected with potassium cyanide and suffered a massive heart attack.’
Stirling placed his hand over his mouth, then let it drift up to cover his eyes. His body started to shake, then came the sound of sobbing.
A few seconds of uncomfortable silence went by. Finally, Stirling came up for air. ‘Why haven’t you questioned Paul? You know all about his background. He’s punishing me for rejecting him. And he’s punishing all those women for sleeping with me. Because I slept with them, not him. He hates women. He had an unhappy childhood. Blames his mother for not being there for him, for making a fool out of his father, for sending him to an early grave. What’s more, he’s not lived up to his father’s reputation. A failed lawyer, a failure at life. I’m telling you, he’s sick in the head and he sees this as a way of making his mark on the world, of winning at something for once.’
Carver saw the frustration on Stirling’s face. He looked at him earnestly. ‘Professor, I understand your need to find the person responsible. Your reputation and your marriage are both in ruins, and you are hurting. You’re desperate to get out of here, to make someone pay. But we’re ninety-nine per cent certain the killer’s female.’
Stirling’s mouth fell open. Looking confused, he swallowed hard. ‘Female?’
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