by Ben Oakley
I nodded, “her body was discovered a few weeks back.”
“Oh no, what a shame. Never nice when a patient you had leaves this world by their own hand. Suicide is a terrible thing.”
I didn't even challenge his view on it. Would it have made much of a difference if I told him she had been brutally murdered by the Blood Streams killer? I let him believe it was suicide, thinking it to be the best way of closing off her story.
“Why do you talk about worlds?” I asked. “I never heard a doctor talk in such a non-medical manner?”
He smiled at me, “you might not believe it but I'm a religious man, Mr. Lake. Hundreds of people each month die in this hospital, I have to believe there is another world beyond our own. I have to believe in Heaven, otherwise why are we trying to save lives here? I believe in life and if life cannot be lived then Heaven is the next best thing.”
“Heaven is the next best thing to life?”
“No, Mr. Lake, Heaven is the next best thing to death.”
I sighed, not really knowing what he meant by it. “What about Stansey King?”
“In what way?” he asked.
“Was she living an Immortal Hour?”
“Stansey King, as we are currently calling her, was an anomaly amongst my patients here. I have never seen someone believe so much they were someone else entirely. I've seen delusional and hallucinatory subjects but nothing to that degree of absolute certainty. Was she living inside an Immortal Hour? It's a possibility but I didn't have long enough with her to work that out.”
“What do you think happened to her?”
“You're going to have to be more specific, Mr. Lake.”
I turned and glanced around at the others in the smoking area, huddled around free-standing ashtrays like a banished tribe who society had cast out. Some caught my eye and others didn't, preferring to keep themselves to themselves. I looked back at Foster.
“What happened to her before she got to my cellar?”
“There's no way of knowing until she's found again.”
“What would make someone believe they are someone else?”
“An immediate and overly traumatic experience can have a devastating effect on a fragile mind. She would have been suffering from mild mental health disorders before she was taken, if we are to assume she was. The resulting brutality would have been traumatic enough to have affected her in such a way.” He paused for a moment before considering his next word. “Or...” then he stopped again, teasing me in.
“Or what?” I said, intrigued and a little apprehensive.
He tapped his forehead, “or someone got to her long ago and messed around in here.”
“Hypnotism?”
“I wouldn't have thought so. Hypnotism is rarely that powerful and there are too many differentials to consider.”
“Then what?”
He beckoned me further away from the smoking area and checked above for cameras or anyone watching. He then glanced around the area and then nodded at me quickly.
“You didn't hear this from me, okay? Promise me?”
As much as I wanted what he knew, I was hesitant. “If you're going to give me information that I might follow up on then I can't promise anything.”
“Just don't let this come back to me!” he asserted.
“Hit me with it.”
“In the past year, I've suspected something inscrutable is happening over at Linden.” He bit his lip and looked around again.
I'd never seen him so shaken. “What is it?” I said.
“Rumours, stories, hearsay, I can't prove anything. But people are going missing there, I'm sure of it.”
“You're the head psychiatrist. How can you not prove it?”
“Here, Mr. Lake, here. Not at Linden. My access flows to the unit and not in reverse. I can send patients there and liase with them at the site but I don't have twenty-four hour access. It is a locked ward and their care is transferred from this hospital to the care workers there.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I've long suspected something is going on there but I can never speak out about it. It would mean my job, my family and possibly my life. It's the flow of the river, Mr. Lake, and I've long been paddling upstream.”
“What the hell are they doing there, doctor?”
“You're the detective, Mr. Lake. I've said more than enough already. More than enough.”
“How do I get in there?”
“You can't, I told you it's a locked ward and you'll be watched every second of every minute you're there. They tell you it's for the patients safety and your security but I'm not buying that. Detect, Mr. Lake. This is an investigation only you can solve. Now if you will excuse me, I have to make a decision on whether to send another of our patients to Linden and I'm pushed for time. Tick tock, Mr. Lake, tick tock.”
He pushed the butt of his smoke into one of the overfilled ashtray's and walked off speedily. I almost called after him but knew he wouldn't turn around, he had given me all he was going to give.
I sighed to myself and put my hands on my hips, looking like a proper detective. I glanced back to the smoking area and saw nurses and patients chatting amongst themselves.
Then I caught his eye.
A man was looking directly at me through an ocean of smoke. Normally I wouldn't be shaken by someone looking at me but he was staring directly at me, unmoveable in his intent. I couldn't tell if he was a patient or a nurse. But I wasn't walking away from it.
I traipsed towards him with a steady stride. He quickly threw his cigarette to the ground, turned and walked around the corner. I quickened my pace and as I reached the corner's edge, he was nowhere to be seen. His tracks were covered by a horde of people moving in and out of the outpatient ward entrance.
“What was that about?” I said to myself quietly.
I saw the still-smoking cigarette on the ground, about half inch from the end of its life. I wetted my finger and thumb, reached down and snuffed it out. Then I picked it up, lavishing in the feel of a smoke between my fingers again. I wrapped it in a tissue and put it in my pocket.
I walked away from the hospital and took my phone out, in a far slower manner than Paine would have done. I had one number on speed-dial I needed to phone and he answered quicker than I would have expected him too.
I wondered how many more phones he had destroyed in the past couple of hours.
“Superintendent Salt,” he said on the other end in his deep voice.
“It's Harrison Lake, I need a few things from you asap.”
“How's the investigation going?”
Crikey, it had only been a few hours. Was he really expecting that much from me? I placated him anyway.
“Slower than I would have thought but there's lots of avenues to take. Your end?”
“Making progress with house to house calls and site revisits but nothing concrete. What do you need?”
“A list of names of all the people whose deaths you have attributed to the Blood Streams.”
“Will send it to your phone.”
“And I need a DNA test on a cigarette butt?”
“Right,” he sighed, “drop it into Kentish Town Station and we'll have it sent off to the closest facility.”
“And background information on Doctor Foster, a psychiatrist at the University College Hospital.”
“You have been busy. Is he a suspect?”
“Everyone's a suspect.”
“That's the sprit. Anything else before I hang up?”
I thought it about for a small moment but realised it needed doing.
“I need access to Linden Psychiatric Hospital.”
Twenty Nine
As I was leaving the hospital it was already nearing five in the afternoon but I knew where I was going next. I decided to walk back to Camden Town as it was only a mile, and I needed time to think things over.
It would take at least a couple of hours to get the information I'd requested back to me. I wo
uld drop the cigarette butt into the station after I'd been to Camden. I decided to divert slightly and go through Regent's Park, specifically the Queen Mary Rose Garden, it had always seemed to calm my thoughts.
I entered from the Chester Road entrance near the gold and black gate and walked slowly through the Rose Gardens. I only recently learned there were over 12,000 rose bushes planted in the gardens with over 85 different varieties of roses. It was created in 1930 and opened to the public in 1934 and it's been maintained and loved ever since.
It was one of those redeeming factors of this part of London that the area was open to all and it had never been vandalised. The secret gardens and area surrounding the lake remained an everlasting symbol of London's beauty. It was almost a hidden part of London, less visited than Hyde Park and those closer to the Palace.
I strolled near the wooden pagodas and around the small lake with the fairytale island in the middle. I took in the aroma of the flowers and relaxed my senses and thoughts. The enjoyment of the outdoors amongst such beauty was the only therapy that worked on me.
It took me ten minutes but I felt refreshed and ready to crack on. I left the gardens and followed The Broad Walk trail north through the park with London Zoo to the East. I needed to confirm a few things from someone I'd previously met as something had been playing on my mind.
Traipsing back through Camden High Street, I was reminded of the diversity of the area. I saw a young acoustic punk band beside a shuttered shop playing guitars frenetically, as a couple of Jamaicans bounced up and down beside them. A man handing out free CDs of his own music accosted me but I refused and he hoodwinked an Asian tourist group instead.
A European man with a megaphone was shouting to anyone who listened that Jesus lives within us all. Nearby, an army of Jehovah's Witnesses were descending on his location. I didn't stop to see the outcome. Near Camden Market, some Indian sellers were arguing over pricing with American tourists. I hoped they made it to the superior Stables Market just along the road – the real Camden Market.
I approached The Outhouse with a renewed confidence. Maybe it was the thought of having my license back or maybe I felt good about where I was headed. I needed to find Megan Paine, if it was the last thing I did. I simply could not let her go out the same way that Jess did. For Jess's sake.
I walked straight into the busy bar and accosted the first staff member I saw. “Is Daisy around please? Detective Lake to see her.”
“What's she done now?” the guy behind the counter asked.
“Nothing, but I need five minutes with her – immediately. I'll be outside.”
He went off to moan to his manager about someone needing to speak to Daisy. The dinner-time rush was approaching fast and I didn't want to abuse the temporary power I had been given. In another time it could have been fun.
Then again I had been unleashed.
I found a similar table to the one I'd had before, overlooking the waters of the canal. With a view towards the Camden Lock bridge on the right side and the flowing canal to the left. The roadworks set-up was still in effect and my stomach fluttered when I thought of how Jess had met her fate.
Daisy hopped over within a few moments and frowned when she saw me. I also noticed a few of the staff peering through the door.
“You,” she said, matter-of-factly, “construction eh? You told me you weren't a detective?”
“I said not that kind of detective,” I motioned at her to sit.
“What have I done?”
“Why does everything think they've done something wrong?”
“It's not often a detective comes to speak to ya. Officer maybe, but detective, no, it's gotta be special for that.”
“You think me being here is special?”
“It's more exciting than my average day,” she beckoned back to the manager who was staring at me with contempt.
I focused Daisy's attention on me, “when I spoke to you yesterday, you mentioned Ana Fernandez.”
“Is this about her?”
“I'm afraid so.”
“Then might be best to speak to my boss, he'd know more than -” I cut her off.
“- no, it needs to be you.”
She relaxed more in the chair but still had that little frown on her forehead, “why me?”
“Because your manager would be methodical about Ana and not tell me about the real her. I like to talk to the people, I tend to get a more honest representation of things. You said you knew her?”
The frown disappeared and a look of sadness came over her face. She nodded and stretched out her fingers to relieve her own tension.
“She started here at the end of last season. Come all the way from Salvador in Brazil to start a new life in the UK. She was alright, you know. Kept herself to herself, didn't really speak much about her family and all that. Went out a few times with her, like on staff night's out and that. She was good, loved her cocktails and was happier when she was with other people.”
“Did she have a boyfriend?”
“Not that I know of. I got this feeling she liked girls instead.”
“What gave you that impression?”
“She was pretty hot, you know? Tall, bumps in all the right places, gorgeous big smile and refused every advance from every guy ever. She could have had anyone she wanted so it kinda irritated me that she didn't have anyone. Then it kinda clicked that she might have been a lesbian.”
“There's plenty of opportunity around here for people of all persuasions. Why didn't she have a girlfriend?”
Daisy shrugged, “I never thought about it. I figured she might have kept it quiet. She may have had a girlfriend but I didn't see one. She was always texting someone though. Like, whenever she had a break or on a night out she would be texting a lot of the time, but she never told anyone who it was.”
Had Ana Fernandez been hiding something? It didn't feel right but it might have been something as simple as her sexuality. I tried not to read into it too much before it distracted me.
“This is a bit of a strange question but – did she seem normal to you?”
“Hundred bloody percent. What do you mean by that?”
“Did she have any mental health concerns?”
“Who doesn't around here? Everyone's got something.”
She had a point, mental health issues were reaching epidemic levels but it would have taken a lot for someone like Ana to have been sectioned.
“Was she depressed, delusional, or suicidal in any way?”
She frowned again, “I really wouldn't know because she kept herself to herself. But in my opinion, she was a perfectly awesome girl, a great colleague, and a decent friend.”
“Nothing obvious stood out then?”
“No. As far as I'm concerned, she was perfectly fine. But you're right in asking me, because my boss would have said she was crazy. We're all crazy in his eyes. But that's life, right?”
“That's life,” I said.
Daisy took a deep breath before glancing around, “did Ana kill herself?”
“No, no, no, she was attacked. We're just trying to work out who at the moment.”
“You hear a lot of stuff working in a place like this. Pieces of other people's lives and snapshots of conversations taken out of context. I know why you're asking about her. Everyone knows about the Blood Streams Killer and a lot of people here think Ana was a victim of it. A day doesn't go by when I don't look at the canal and wonder how she died.”
I think it was time to leave it there as I didn't want her to start talking about the Blood Streams to her colleagues and tourists.
“Can you... keep this little talk secret for a few more days?”
She looked back to the entranceway and saw only one of her colleagues standing there, the others had returned to work.
She looked at me, “they're gonna ask what this is about.”
“And you'll probably tell them. If not right now then it won't be long until you do and I wouldn't blame you.”
; “I could tell them it was something else. If you told me what that was?”
I smirked, “okay.” I racked my brain but it came easy enough. “Tell them you're helping an undercover NCA investigation in the area and to cut you some slack when you're talking to customers.”
She smiled, “NCA?”
“National Crime Agency.”
“Thanks. I hope you find this bastard and I look forward to seeing your picture in the paper!”
She stood to leave but I stopped her, “just one more thing.”
“Whatever you want.”
“Does Pink Panthers mean anything to you?”
“You don't know what the Pink Panthers are?”
“Do you think I would have asked if I did?”
She went to walk away and I honestly thought she was going to walk off without telling me but she looked back with a cheeky wink.
She said, “it's the local women's football club.”
Thirty
I left a few minutes later and headed straight to Kentish Town Police Station to hand in the cigarette butt and they took it with no issues. The order from Salt was already there waiting for me. The Kentish Town Station was much smaller than the monolithic Holborn one but it served its purpose well.
I'd never heard of the Pink Panthers and found out they were on Camden Road but the site was locked as I went by. By the time I left The Outhouse and sorted things out at the station, it was nearing eight in the evening. So I decided to go back to the club the following day and have a snoop around rather than mess about in the lower light.
Before I left Kentish Town, I walked back to The Ribnik but it was still closed and it bugged me more than it should have done. I still couldn't believe that Jess was gone, it struck me hard as I looked at the old building. Its desolation and doom ate into my mind and clouded my outlook on everything.
It had been eight hours since Paine had been taken and I only had 28 hours left. I knew it wasn't about me but I felt a bigger connection to all of this, more than anyone else. I thought back to when I was sitting in the bar and my phone rang. I could hear Jess's voice playing to me in the distance, like a recording in my head.