The Patient Killer (A DCI Morton Crime Novel Book 4)

by Sean Campbell

  It was boring work. The cameras only covered a narrow angle which went from one side of the gate to the other. It was easy to see who was coming in and out of the cemetery, but the view of the pavement beyond was poor. Pedestrians and cars zoomed through the gates during open hours, but the only movement on the street outside the grounds caught on film were feet wandering past at the top of the frame; the cameras didn’t see far enough to get anything more in the shot.

  Kennard appeared like clockwork. Nearly every day at nine o’clock, Ayala saw her coming into the cemetery with flowers, and then she’d leave without the flowers half an hour later. She must have tossed the old flowers in one of the cemetery’s bins on the way out.

  Ayala worked backwards from the most recent footage to the oldest. After the first few hours of footage he became restless. Even at 30x speed, it was drudgery.

  Then he saw him. Carruthers hadn’t followed Kennard in after all; Morton was wrong. Carruthers was too smart to follow a little old lady at close distance. It was obvious Carruthers knew which way she went after entering Highgate. Perhaps he had seen her enter the cemetery, but stopped following once she was inside.

  The doctor had returned on his own. It was nearly a month before Kennard’s murder. If he had known her schedule was so regular – and, given that he had been stalking her for weeks before her death, he would have – then he could simply have looked for the grave she was visiting on his own.

  The doctor left again an hour later. It would have been child’s play to seek out a gravestone marked Kennard.

  The doctor was stalking the victims before they died. It didn’t make him a murderer, but it certainly looked suspicious.

  Chapter 68: Annals of History

  Wednesday May 6th 13:00

  There was no evidence that Amoy Yacobi had been stalked. If it had happened, the transgressions had long since been condemned to history.

  Stapleton was a dead end too. His murder seemed almost impulsive when compared to the others, though no less meticulous. The denizens of Hatton Garden permitted PC Buchanan to check, but there was no sign that Carruthers had visited Hatton Garden in the weeks before the murder. But then again, there was no sign that the victim had ever been there before, either – and, given the circumstances, it seemed to fit that it had been Niall’s virginal visit to the area.

  The only other hope of building a stalking case was to connect Carruthers to Olivia Hogge.

  Morton found Carter Gould at his home. The boy was on study leave before his final exams, and it was with great reluctance that his grandmother allowed Morton to disturb him.

  Carter’s room didn’t look as Morton had expected it to. There were no piles of dirty laundry on the floor, nor were the walls adorned with posters.

  ‘Nice room.’

  Carter looked up from his maths textbook. ‘Uh... thanks?’

  ‘Do you remember me?’

  ‘Yeah, I remember you, brah. What do you want?’

  ‘I need you to look at some pictures.’

  ‘Did you find the guy? The one who offed Ms Hogge? I’ll say whatever you want me to say.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary. I’m going to show you six photographs. I need you to tell me if you recognise any of them.’ Morton pulled up an e-fit app on his phone and began to show Carter the photos.

  ‘Him!’ Carter said when Carruthers’ mug shot appeared. ‘I saw that guy, bruv. He was this creepy older dude with a weird vibe. I thought he was trying to chat up my girl.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah. Did I get him? Is that the guy what killed Ms Hogge?’

  ‘I think so.’

  Two out of four.

  ***

  Morton had an email from one of the guards at HMP Belmarsh when he got back to the office.

  The prison officer didn’t have anything new to say, but he did confirm that Carruthers’ body was covered in scars. He included a photo by way of attachment, which Morton suspected a court might exclude on the grounds of privacy. Kieran could always subpoena the prison officer to appear in person to testify as to the scars if it came down to it.

  The evidence was building. They had enough to make two stalking cases and infer that Carruthers had stalked all four victims. Everything was circumstantial, though, so a conviction wasn’t guaranteed. The biggest hurdle that remained was that Carruthers had been alibied by his wife every time. If even one juror believed Fenella Carruthers’ testimony that her husband had been with her on the nights of the murders, then he would get away with everything.

  Chapter 69: When the Trust Is Gone

  Thursday May 7th 11:00

  Morton had to take a second crack at her. He gathered all his evidence: the photographs of her husband’s body the prison officer had taken, a still from the CCTV footage of Carruthers at Highgate Cemetery that Ayala had found, and the witness statement of Carter Gould.

  This time he found her at home. She reluctantly let him in and then eyed him curiously as he sat on the sofa.

  ‘Why do you keep trying?’ she asked.

  ‘Mrs Carruthers, I’m never going to give up on finding out the truth. I know your husband has lied to me, and he’s been lying to you too. He wasn’t at home those nights. He’s been out a lot lately, hasn’t he?’

  ‘He works late, that’s all.’

  ‘That’s not true, Mrs Carruthers,’ Morton said gently. ‘He’s barely been at the hospital at all for the last few months. He told them he was sick.’

  ‘He has been sick.’

  ‘Not too sick to stalk an elderly lady on her trip to visit her husband’s grave.’ Morton showed her three photographs in turn. The first was of Primrose Kennard entering Highgate. The second showed Fenella’s husband going in a few hours later.

  ‘And this is her now.’ Morton showed her the final photograph, which depicted Primrose Kennard lying face-down on her husband’s grave. ‘He killed her, and he dumped her in the cemetery. That’s what you’re covering up.’

  ‘I’m... not...’

  ‘Yes, yes, you are,’ Morton said.

  ‘He could have any reason to go into a cemetery. That doesn’t prove anything.’

  ‘Then, let me show you more evidence. This is a witness statement from Carter Gould. His... girlfriend, Olivia Hogge, was murdered. Carter saw her being stalked by your husband. He positively identified him in a line-up,’ Morton said. He omitted saying anything about Hogge’s conduct; she didn’t need to know about that.

  Fenella’s eyes began to well up. ‘It can’t be. He wouldn’t,’ she pleaded.

  ‘He did.’ Morton showed her one more photograph – the picture of her husband’s scars. ‘Look at those scars. There’s one there where his kidney was taken out. He gave that to Doctor Isaac Ebstein. Ebstein became his accomplice, and he’s since confessed. The scar on his chest is from a lung lobe being removed. That was transplanted into Primrose Kennard before he killed her. And the bone marrow removal scar is from his donation to Olivia Hogge. He killed her, too. Byron has killed at least four people. Help us. Do the right thing. He’s not the man you married anymore.’

  She broke down into full-on sobbing. Morton offered her a handkerchief from his pocket.

  ‘Th-thanks.’ She patted her eyes dry. It did little good. She still looked like a panda.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘He wasn’t here. He’s never here. If he did this... he deserves whatever he’s got coming.’

  Chapter 70: Not Fit

  Monday May 11th 09:30

  The charges were quickly amended to include four counts of murder. With the alibis shown to be false, and that lie on the record, the case against Doctor Byron Carruthers was strengthened considerably.

  It also meant that Carruthers was subject to four crimes triable by indictment, the most serious category of crimes under English law. It was no longer up to Carruthers where his case would be tried. He was off to the Crown Court to a face a jury of his peers.

  But before that could happen, a
n administrative detail had to be attended to. The case needed to be formally ‘Sent’ to the Crown Court, and that meant Kieran had to turn up at Westminster Magistrates’ Court in person to make an application to do so under section 51 of the Crime and Disorder Act 1998.

  The rules required that the defendant be present (Kieran always wondered why this sort of detail couldn’t be sorted via a less expensive method), so Doctor Carruthers and his nephew-lawyer Jacob Carruthers had been summonsed in person to Courtroom 1 on behalf of the defence while Kieran represented the crown.

  Kieran stood and addressed his remarks to the chairman set in the centre of the three-magistrates-strong panel. ‘Sir, the defendant is charged with four counts of murder and one specimen count under the Human Tissue Act.’

  ‘Is the triable either way offence linked to the indictable charges?’ The magistrate referred to the category of offences which could be tried in either the Magistrates’ Court or the Crown Court.

  ‘Yes, sir. The charges are related. They arise from the same set of facts, and share common victimology.’

  ‘Then the charges are joined as requested. Now, as to bail–’

  ‘Excuse me, Your Honour,’ Jacob Carruthers said as he rose to his feet.

  He was wearing the wig and gown of a barrister – though he was merely a solicitor-advocate. It was a pet peeve of Kieran’s that the practice was allowed in any court, let alone the Magistrates’, where a wig was total overkill. Kieran himself was wearing only a suit.

  ‘Before we turn to bail, if it may please the court, the defence would request an adjournment.’

  Oh, boy. This was going to be amusing. An adjournment at the Magistrates’ on a murder charge?

  ‘On what grounds?’

  ‘My client is medically unfit to stand trial,’ Jacob said.

  ‘Stand, sir,’ the magistrate directed, and Doctor Carruthers stood. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘I have kidney failure, sir, and require dialysis.’ Carruthers wore a pained look, as if his kidneys were troubling him right there and then.

  ‘I fail to see the issue.’

  ‘My client needs access to dialysis machines,’ Jacob said, ‘and he cannot both receive proper treatment and participate in his defence effectively.’

  ‘And when will he stop needing dialysis?’

  ‘When he gets a transplant,’ Jacob said.

  Or dies. ‘Sir, this is a complete surprise to the prosecution,’ Kieran said. ‘Doctor Carruthers has travelled all over London over the last few weeks. We will be introducing evidence showing that he was sufficiently fit to stalk and then murder four people. The defence request for an adjournment is preposterous.’

  ‘We agree. The defence request is denied,’ the magistrate said.

  Doctor Carruthers remained standing, snatched up his lawyer’s notepad and a pen, and then leant again Jacob’s back in order to scribble something down. ‘But, Your Honour, I have a doctor’s note.’

  ‘Let’s see it.’

  Carruthers handed the note to the bailiff.

  ‘Very funny, Mr Carruthers,’ the magistrate said.

  ‘Then, Your Honour, I’d like to fire my lawyer. Jacob, you’re off the case. Sir, can I have that adjournment now?’

  ‘While it is within your prerogative to fire your lawyer, it is within mine to decide if you can have an adjournment,’ the magistrate said. ‘Do you intend to find an alternative lawyer?’

  ‘I intend to represent myself.’

  ‘Very well. Then, to bail. Mr O’Connor?’

  The prosecutor paused as if to collect his thoughts. ‘The defendant is accused of murder, of mutilating the corpses of the deceased and of doing so undetected for a long time. He has ample resources and few ties to the community. We request remand.’

  ‘Mr Carruthers?’

  ‘I have no convictions at all. I am not in a fit state to flee. I am an old man. I do not belong in prison.’

  ‘Very well. Give us a moment to confer.’

  The magistrate chairing the proceedings huddled with the other magistrates flanking his left and right. They turned back a few minutes later to announce their decision.

  Carruthers made bail that night. He returned home to find the locks had been changed and was forced to decamp to a cheap hotel with nothing more than the clothes on his back.

  Ayala followed from a distance. One of the conditions of Carruthers’ bail was the need to wear an ankle bracelet so he could be tracked at any time. Ayala hoped he’d try to take it off. If the doctor broke even one condition of his bail, Ayala would make sure that Carruthers was carted straight back to HMP Belmarsh.

  Chapter 71: Backstab

  Monday July 6th 09:30

  The Old Bailey hummed with activity when the Carruthers trial made it to the top of the docket. Reporters thronged the street outside, cameras flashing, the media circus in full swing.

  The jury was selected in short order. Six men, six women. Eight white, two Asian and two black. It was as representative a jury as anyone could have asked for. The process took a little over three hours.

  Mr Justice Adam Quinn dismissed the jury for lunch, ready to start the opening statements after lunch. Kieran rose, ready to make a break for it.

  ‘Not you, Mr O’Connor. Nor you, Doctor Carruthers. Sit back down.’

  Kieran sat. ‘My Lord?’

  ‘I am concerned that Doctor Carruthers is representing himself when he is facing such grievous charges. Have you advised him of the law?’ Quinn referred to the obligation lawyers were under to assist so-called litigants-in-person.

  ‘I have, My Lord. Doctor Carruthers appears to have no interest in being counselled or advised.’

  Quinn’s gaze swept from the prosecutor over to the defence table. ‘And you understand that you are entitled to a lawyer?’

  Carruthers rose to make eye contact with the judge. ‘I do.’

  ‘You’re sure you wish to proceed as your own representation?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Very well. How do you plead?’

  ‘Not guilty, My Lord, to all charges.’

  ***

  ‘The prosecution calls Isaac Ebstein to the stand.’

  The doctor shuffled forward, paused for a moment as if in awe of the courtroom itself, and was prodded onwards to the witness box by the bailiff. He was quickly sworn in.

  Kieran stood, this time bedecked in his full wig and gown rather than the suit he had donned for the initial appearance in the Magistrates’ Court. ‘Doctor Ebstein, what happened when you fell ill three years ago?’

  ‘I had end stage chronic kidney disease. My kidneys were failing, and I was on dialysis. I had to go on a sabbatical from work. There wasn’t an available organ on the register for me. They said I wasn’t high enough priority yet. My nursing team were friends as well as colleagues, and they began a campaign to get all of the staff at The Royal London to get tested to see if any of them might be a match.’

  ‘What was the result of that campaign?’

  ‘Hundreds of doctors, nurses, and support staff were tested. I can’t think them all enough for how wonderful they were. There was one outstanding match. That was Doctor Byron Carruthers. He’s sitting over there.’ Ebstein pointed at the dock.

  ‘Let the record show that the witness is pointing at Byron Carruthers, the defendant,’ Kieran said. ‘Doctor Ebstein, would you still be here today if not for that man’s actions?’

  Ebstein wiped at his eyes as if to brush away a tear, though Kieran could not see any. ‘I’d be dead. I owe Doctor Carruthers my life.’

  ‘Is it fair to say you’d do anything for him?’ Kieran said.

  Carruthers sprang to his feet. ‘Objection! Leading the witness. Hey, this is fun. I’ve always wanted to try that.’

  ‘Sustained,’ Mr Justice Quinn said. ‘Rephrase your question, Mr O’Connor.’

  Kieran nodded, paused for a moment to give the jury a chance to turn their attention back to him, and then continued. ‘Doctor
Ebstein, you said you owed Doctor Carruthers your life. How did that make you feel?’

  ‘Like I owed him,’ Ebstein said. ‘I felt that I couldn’t refuse anything he asked for, and he asked for a lot.’

  ‘What did he ask you to do?’

  ‘He asked me to help him prevent people dying because of bureaucracy.’

  ‘Can you explain what you mean by that?’ Kieran prodded.

  ‘Every year thousands die waiting for organ transplants, and yet we have many viable organs going to waste. Byron wanted to do something about that.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘He began to pressure families to sign up to the organ donation register,’ Ebstein said. ‘He would even offer them money towards the funeral if he thought it would help. Sometimes, if there was an organ he really needed and the donor had no close relatives to stop him, Carruthers would forge the paperwork saying they were donors.’

  ‘What was your role in this?’

  ‘I helped him. When we couldn’t find an organ, we’d buy one. Sometimes Carruthers donated his own organs.’

  ‘Which body parts did he donate?’ Kieran asked.

  ‘Apart from giving his kidney to me, he gave bone marrow to Olivia Hogge, a lung lobe to Primrose Kennard, and blood to as many patients as he could,’ Ebstein said. At Kieran’s quizzical look, he added, ‘Including Amoy Yacobi and Niall Stapleton.’

  ‘What happened to those people next?’

  ‘They were murdered.’

  Kieran nodded. He would have thanked Ebstein for his testimony if such a thing were not precluded by the customs of court. As he sat back down and gathered his notes about him, Carruthers rose to begin his cross-examination.

  ‘Isaac, are you testifying against me to save your own skin?’

  ‘No–’

  ‘You’re not testifying as part of a plea deal you arranged with the prosecution?’ Carruthers swept an arm towards Kieran.