Five ways to kill a man lab-7

by Alex Gray

  The estate itself was built into the hillside and several of the terraces were designed as split-level homes, their back gardens running steeply downwards to the ribbons of pathways. All three victims had lived in such homes, the stairs from their back doors ending in a few concrete slabs masquerading as patios.

  ‘Do you mind if I walk around here a bit on my own? Less conspicuous, perhaps?’ He smiled at the officer who merely shrugged and stepped back into the warmth of his patrol car. If this bearded, rather exotic-looking psychologist thought he was inconspicuous then he was daft, the gesture seemed to say.

  Solly wanted to walk around the areas away from the victims’ houses in order to see what differences there might be. He noticed that many of the terraces were on flatter ground, paths pitted by years of wear and tear, plastic bags like pale white bats clinging to the hedgerows. Some of these paths were as accessible to a cyclist as the others, but with the difference that there were no steep flights of stairs descending to the gardens below.

  Solly stopped abruptly. What were the chances of there being other similar locations on this estate? There was a sudden churning in his stomach. He had to know. Had to stop it happening again.

  ‘Can you drive around all the streets, please, officer?’ Solly asked, opening the car door and stepping into the patrol vehicle once more.

  PC Reid stifled a sigh. His orders were to accommodate this odd chap from Glasgow University, this beardy weirdy as his wife would have called him, so that’s what he would do, even if he thought privately that it was a bloody waste of police time.

  DI Rhoda Martin had quite a different opinion of Doctor Solomon Brightman as she ushered him into the small room reserved for visitors. His quiet air of authority might have impressed the detective, but her thoughts on the psychologist had come from personal experience.

  ‘I don’t suppose you remember me,’ she began, sitting down opposite Solly. ‘I took your class in my first year at uni.’

  Solly smiled and shook his head. ‘Sorry.’ He spread his hands in a gesture of apology. ‘There are so many students. And my memory’s awful,’ he added with a twinkle that made Rhoda Martin doubt the truth of this last statement. Still, perhaps it was better not to be remembered as an average student who should have performed so much better than she had. A lower second had been okay but hadn’t set the heather on fire, nor had it been something about which her parents could boast to all their friends at the golf club.

  ‘This case,’ she began, twisting her fingers together on her lap, ‘do you really think you might be able to shed some light on it?’

  Solly nodded, looking intently at the officer. His eyes seemed to bore straight through the blonde detective and she found herself blushing. There was a silence between them that she found a little uncomfortable; those kind brown eyes and that smile that seemed to tell her that he knew her very thoughts. Rhoda shivered. If he did..?

  ‘The person who perpetrated these awful acts must be stopped, Inspector,’ Solly said at last.

  Rhoda frowned. ‘What on earth do you mean?’

  ‘I mean just that. Someone has killed three elderly ladies for a reason unknown to us, but from what I have seen I am afraid…’ he tailed off, making a gesture with his hands in the air as if Rhoda should be able to finish his sentence for him, but her frown was rapidly becoming a scowl.

  ‘You see,’ he went on after another long pause, ‘the method of killing was rather simple once your killer had done his homework.’ It was Solly’s turn to frown now. ‘I say his advisedly, of course. It may well have been carried out by a woman. My current line of study is into acts of violence by what we call the fairer sex.’ The hands spread again as if he were apologising for such a statement.

  Rhoda was beginning to remember such gestures and also how much they had irritated her throughout her undergraduate year of studying psychology. But this man was giving up his time to help them so she should at least show some polite interest.

  ‘So, any ideas?’

  Solly nodded, his face becoming quite grave. ‘Sadly, yes. I think you have a very dangerous type of person in your area, Inspector Martin. Very dangerous indeed. In fact,’ the psychologist bit his lip as if to prevent the words coming out, ‘I would go so far as to say that, unless there was something material to be gained by killing these women, this person has killed simply because he could.’

  Rhoda’s eyes widened. ‘You’re telling me there’s a psychopath on the loose?’

  Solly neither nodded nor shook his head but continued to gaze into the detective’s eyes so that she looked away.

  ‘I can’t believe that,’ she said. ‘There must be something that links these three deaths,’ she continued, almost to herself. ‘Surely?’ she added, turning to face the psychologist again.

  ‘That’s for the police to investigate, of course.’ Solly nodded. ‘But I believe that whoever did this had selected these homes on the basis of their accessibility as well as for the frailty of their occupants.’

  ‘You mean he didn’t even know who the women were?’ Martin’s response failed to hide the scornful tone in her voice.

  ‘Oh, he would know them after a while. At least in terms of their day-to-day habits and when he might find them in alone at night.’

  ‘So,’ she spoke more carefully again, not wishing to appear discourteous, ‘he stalked them for a while before deciding to push them off the steps to their deaths?’

  ‘I imagine that will have been his procedure, yes,’ Solomon answered a trifle stiffly. ‘But I must warn you, Inspector, this might still be part of an ongoing pattern.’

  Rhoda Martin frowned, head to one side, considering the psychologist’s line of thought.

  ‘You see, I have looked all around the area and there are still some houses that resemble those of the victims.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Rhoda looked puzzled.

  ‘I mean,’ Solly said with the sort of sigh one might reserve for a small child who has failed to grasp something elementary, ‘that the conditions the killer would be looking for still exist on that estate. And if certain houses are inhabited by vulnerable elderly folk, then.. who knows?’

  Rhoda Martin gave a wintry smile. Yes, her expression seemed to say, she’d be polite to this man, the lecturer whom she had once held in such high regard. But now she was the authority figure and he was simply a civilian whose theories, she was sure, would be laughed at in a court of law.

  ‘Well, thank you for all of that, Dr Brightman. It was very good of you to take the time to come down and help us,’ she said in the sweet tones she usually reserved for men that she fancied. ‘Can I offer you some coffee before your journey back to Glasgow?’

  Solomon Brightman was not the type of man to harbour any animosity. In fact the detective’s attitude amused rather than insulted him. He’d done a favour for Lorimer and now that favour meant he could face his friend and give him his opinion on the case. That DI Martin was in charge of it was neither here nor there. Lorimer was down at Greenock and surely he could bring some influence to bear on the triple killing? Sitting on the train, watching flocks of white gulls bobbing past on the currents of the river, Solly smiled to himself. He was enough of a psychologist to understand what had happened back there. A specialist being paid a hefty fee would have attracted much more respect and probably had his views taken a lot more seriously. It was human nature, after all, to value what you had paid for. Still, he hoped the idea he had planted into that young woman’s head would result in the housing estate being included in any routine police patrol.

  Failure to do that might well result in one more old lady falling to her death.

  CHAPTER 27

  ‘ I can come home!’

  The four monosyllables were spoken slowly but with an obvious delight, as though Alice had been saving them up for hours.

  Maggie hugged her mother, hoping the expression of alarm was well hidden as her cheek brushed the older woman’s hair. It was wonderful. Of course it w
as. So why did she feel that sudden sense of panic?

  ‘Oh, Mum! That’s great. And just listen to you. Your speech has come on so well,’ Maggie enthused. And it was true. Of course there was still that falsetto tremble and Alice Finlay’s words were slow and slightly slurred, but the speech therapy had worked wonders for her.

  ‘We’ve got that new sofa bed downstairs and Bill can bring over your own duvet. We know how much you like that one,’ Maggie told her, aware that she was beginning to gabble from sheer nerves. ‘You’ll have Chancer for company every night. If you want him,’ she added.

  Alice smiled and gave a little nod. She loved her daughter’s pet and the orange cat knew it, making a bee-line for Alice’s lap every time she paid them a visit.

  ‘Sister…’ Alice’s mouth was open but the word didn’t come.

  ‘Kilbryde,’ Maggie supplied, receiving another weak nod for her pains. ‘Does she want to see me?’

  Alice nodded and smiled again and Maggie saw the relief on her mother’s face at not having to try to utter the difficult word.

  Would it be like this for ever? Having to fill in the blanks. Or would her Mum make more progress as time went on? Suddenly Maggie was anxious to speak to the senior nurse, so, patting the back of Alice’s hand, she rose from the grey plastic chair beside her bed.

  ‘I’ll go and see her just now. Be back soon. Don’t be dancing in the corridor while I’m away,’ she joked.

  As Maggie turned to leave, the realisation of all this responsibility threatened to overwhelm her. Oh, help, she was even beginning to talk to her mother as if she were a small child instead of the grown woman who had wiped her own snotty nose and scolded her for childhood misdemeanours.

  The sight of the woman behind the desk at the nurse’s station with that friendly smile and air of calm authority reassured her at once.

  ‘Sister, Mum tells me she is going to be able to come home to us,’ Maggie began.

  ‘That’s correct, Mrs Lorimer, but there are one or two details I’d like to explain to you before we can allow that to happen. Would you like to step into my office?’

  Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. There would be health care professionals coming in every day and also in the evenings. She wasn’t expected to be at home all day with her mother after all. It was a matter she had discussed with the deputy head at Muirpark, stressing how much she valued her job and how sorry she would be to have to resign, if it came to that. The sister had explained all about attendance allowance and Mrs Finlay’s financial situation giving her the right to have carers in her daughter’s home, paid for by the social services. In time, she had hinted, Alice Finlay might even be allowed to return to her own home, subject to various safety measures being put in place. It all depended upon her progress. A stroke was sometimes a warning of worse to come, she advised Maggie. But with a healthy diet and the correct medication Mrs Finlay might recover well and live for years. Meantime, Sister Kilbryde had told Maggie, if she wouldn’t mind allowing the professionals to visit her home to check that everything was in order, Mum could be with her by the weekend. She’d be telephoned tomorrow by one of the occupational therapists to make arrangements.

  As she returned to the ward, Maggie’s thoughts were in a whirl. She had loads of Prelim marking to do and so a lot of midnight oil would be burning between now and Saturday. Plus she’d have to air Mum’s duvet and look out fresh bedding for the sofa bed. She could go to Braehead Shopping Mall on the way home and buy one of these mattress toppers to make it more comfortable. Surely M amp;S would have one? There was no time for grocery shopping so she’d have to place an order online to arrive late tomorrow night. What were Mum’s favourite foods? Were there any that were now on a banned list from the hospital dietician?

  ‘Mag…?’ Her mother looked up at her anxiously and Maggie realised that she was wearing her frowning face, as Alice was wont to call it.

  ‘It’s fine, everything’s fine. Sister Kilbryde reckons you could be home by Saturday if the doctor gives you the okay,’ she told her mother. A wide-mouthed smile from her daughter made Alice give a sigh and sink her head back into the pillows.

  Maggie almost added If they think our house is fit for you to stay. But such little concerns would not be voiced. It was important that Mrs Finlay was not stressed about anything, the nurse had insisted. Quietness and rest in a familiar place would be as good as the medicines she was now receiving. Maggie could worry about the details once she was clear of the hospital. But for now, all she wanted to do was to give her mother something good to think about.

  ‘Chancer’ll be delighted to see you.’ She grinned. ‘Just wait till I tell him!’

  ‘Can you do it next week?’ Lorimer asked, listening to his young friend’s voice on the telephone. ‘Only it looks like Alice is coming home to us this weekend and we’d want her to have time to settle in.’ He smiled at the reply. ‘Aye I bet they’re noisy. And the amount of work needing done here will probably drive the neighbours mad. Best get it over and done with during the week when most of them are out at work. Okay. Thanks. See you soon.’

  Maggie looked up from her pile of marking, a question in her eyes.

  ‘Flynn,’ Lorimer supplied. ‘He’s going to tackle the garden next week. Clear the old winter stuff and give the grass its first cut. Says he’s got a huge power mower that makes a racket.’

  ‘Good.’ Maggie nodded. ‘It’ll be company for Mum as well. She’s always had a soft spot for Flynn.’ She chewed her lip thoughtfully. ‘How’s he going to bring the gardening machinery all the way over here?’

  ‘A pal’s going to drop him off and pick him up later on.’

  Maggie nodded again, turning her attention to a Prelim paper that was already covered in red pen marks. ‘That’ll please Mrs Ellis. No big white vans cluttering up the street.’

  Lorimer grinned. Their neighbour was a fussy woman who found fault rather too easily with her neighbours. Still, if it hadn’t been for her watchful disposition, Flynn might have suffered badly at the hands of those men who had abducted him from Lorimer’s home. His smile slipped a little at the memory. It could all have gone so horribly wrong. The harrowing experiences he’d endured had made Joseph Alexander Flynn a stronger person. And, despite them all, one thing he had never lost was his infectious sense of humour. Yes, he thought, his mother-in-law would enjoy the banter with him next Monday.

  There were still three days until Saturday and Maggie Lorimer was now counting them in hours. There was so much still to be done, so many little things to remember. Her kitchen calendar was disfigured with scribbles and post-it notes and she had resorted to adding items on to the magnetic shopping list that her friend, Sandie, had given her for Christmas. Once Mum was home and ensconced in their (now much tidier) dining room, it would be a lot easier. Wouldn’t it? The downstairs loo was sparkling clean and decked with newly laundered fluffy towels as well as Alice’s favourite Roget et Gallet rose perfumed soap, another of Maggie’s Christmas gifts from one of her Sixth Year pupils. Their own sitting room was upstairs across the landing from the bedrooms. Originally used as a bedroom-cum-playroom by the previous owners, the Lorimers had opted to make this their main public room. The long dining room downstairs incorporated what was really Maggie’s study, handy for a stroll through to the kitchen for the endless cups of coffee she required to sustain her through the hours of marking.

  They would have to try to spend some time with Mum in the evenings, though it would be nice to have their own space upstairs at the end of a day. The TV would have to be kept low, so as not to disturb her. And maybe she could find a wee hand bell to let her Mum ring should she need either of them in a hurry. But it should all work out fine, Maggie’s sensible self told her firmly. So why was she experiencing these little pangs of guilt? Or were they feelings of inadequacy? After all, nothing prepared you for the daunting task of caring for your own parent, did it?

  ‘How’s your mother-in-law, Sir?’

  Lorimer tried to
keep his expression neutral but knew from DI Martin’s face that he had singularly failed to hide his surprise. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Oh, your friend, Dr Fergusson, told me about her,’ Rhoda replied, her head to one side as if she were considering her superior’s situation.

  ‘She’s much better, actually,’ Lorimer told her. ‘Coming home at the weekend.’

  ‘To stay with you?’

  ‘Yes. My wife and I are having her until she’s well enough to return to her own home.’

  ‘Nice of you to do that, Sir.’ Rhoda nodded approvingly. ‘Thousands wouldn’t bother.’ And, giving him a condescending sort of smile, she walked away, leaving Lorimer feeling that she had somehow wrong-footed him.

  He hadn’t wanted this to be public knowledge, but then it was no use blaming Rosie since he hadn’t exactly hidden his private life away. But it made him simmer inside to think that DI Rhoda Martin would now be making comparisons between his own situation and that of Colin Ray. He had to crack this case now, or be made to look totally incompetent.

  It had been an idea gnawing away at him based on a case from way back where a man facing financial ruin had taken his own life and those of his family. The fire and the reason behind it: both had provoked this notion. Had it been the murder of two people, after all? A call to the local doctor had given Lorimer enough reason to drive back up the country road to Kilmacolm. It was a fresh day, a brisk westerly wind blowing away the last vestiges of rain clouds over the river towards Dunoon and the Cowal Hills. Inland there were signs of spring; wild primroses appearing in sheltered banks by the roadside, a lark rising from its thicket of nest to soar into the blue. Lorimer longed to pull over and watch its flight, but there were too many matters ahead of him today.

  The doctors’ surgery was on the main road running through the village from Port Glasgow to Bridge of Weir. Lorimer found a space in the car park and walked round the corner to the grey stone building.