3 The Surgeon's Blade

by Faith Mortimer

  She decided to give Jem a ring and find out what he and Simon were planning that evening; maybe she could join them somehow.

  “Hi Libs, how are you?” Simon answered at once.

  “Hi Simon. I’m fine, except I’ve no car. The blessed thing has finally given up the ghost and conked out on me.”

  “That’s a pity, but I’m not surprised the way you ill-treat it. When will you get it back?”

  Libby suppressed a sound of annoyance. Here was someone else lecturing her on how to look after a blessed car. If she had wanted to be an expert on car maintenance, she would have taken an evening class.

  “The garage mechanic said sometime on Monday, all being well. I’m on a late duty that day, so hopefully they’ll finish fixing it in the morning, and I can pick it up after lunch before I go to work. What are you two doing tonight? I wondered if you’d like to come round and have some supper with me. I know I’m not much of a cook, but I’ll do my very best.”

  “Aw Libby, sorry, we can’t. We’re halfway to Brighton. We’re meeting some old friends for a party and staying overnight. Another time and we’d love to come.”

  Libby felt even more disconsolate and frustrated at his words. Where were your friends when you needed them most? she thought, after she had said 'goodbye' and wished them a good time. She mooched around the house, tidying a cushion or two and sorting out some old paperbacks to take to the local charity shop. Once she had sorted out a good carrier-bag full, she decided she would take them to the shop now. The walk would do her good, and she had nothing better to do.

  The fine warm day was an English summer at its best. The trees lining the road were full and leafy, and Libby thought there was nothing better than the smell of newly-mown grass to set the scene. Walking briskly, she kept turning round and round in her mind thoughts of Nigel and their relationship. During the past few weeks, Libby had tried and tried to recollect when Nigel had proposed to her and given her his ring. It was useless, she just couldn’t remember. Neither could she recall making love with him. Surely, if she really loved Nigel wouldn’t this be the one thing she remembered above all else? This and her feeling of depression were wearing her down. Libby stopped walking and made a snap decision.

  It was about time she took hold of her life again and stopped being pathetic! Never could she remember being as feeble-minded as she was right now. The whole thing was absurd. As soon as Nigel contacted her, she was going to tell him it was all over.

  She felt like she was living a lie, and Nigel didn’t deserve that. Libby had meant it when she had said she would wear his ring again when she recovered her memory, but somehow she had this feeling she and Nigel were never meant to be. Now that her mind was made up, she felt a weight lifting from her heart. She knew he would be annoyed and upset, but she truly believed this was the right thing to do. With a lighter and almost joyous tread to her step, she turned towards home.

  Chapter 20

  The watcher had bungled last night. For the first time, a mistake had been made and that was nothing like usual. The stupid woman had surprisingly put up quite a fight. Normally the victim was caught unawares and terrified when they saw the scalpel blade in front of their throat. The watcher thought the choice had been a good one this time. She was the right age, colouring and height, and a nurse. Every move of hers had been followed during the past week, and the watcher thought she would be ideal as a victim before the final one. The watcher had felt the urge the day before and decided to chance a hand one more time. It felt so good to once again emerge from watcher to attacker. Dressed in dark clothes, complete with wig and stage make-up, it was so simple to don the doctor’s white coat and mingle with the hospital visitors and staff. Security was nowhere near as good as it could be, and it was easy to engage the woman in flattering conversation while sharing a cigarette with her.

  That part of the hospital, the teaching part, was usually quiet, and the west wing was completely deserted at that time of night. The shadows cast from the red-brick walls were long and dark, making it the perfect setting. The nurse was so relaxed when asked for her telephone number, and it was easy to approach her from behind as she wrote it down on a scrap of paper. Oh, the ecstasy as the look on her face turned to one of terror! When she understood and realised her mistake too late, the faithful blade began its glorious work.

  The attacker was furious when she dodged the next cut to her face. She recovered her poise enough by kicking out viciously against the attackers’ shin and then recoiled before jabbing at the attacker’s face with her pen. Despite her desperate attempt to escape, there was a blissful moment when the scalpel sliced through her flesh before she managed to slip from her attacker’s grasp and run screaming towards the main building.

  The attacker knew of a shortcut leading onto a back road which would eventually come to the university buildings. The attacker had left a car there, concealed in the shadows, and it was an easy task to remove the coat and wig and roll them up into a ball while moving towards the getaway. All that was left to do now was go home, take a shower and change clothes. An alibi would be good too. There were a couple of parties that night that were bound to be crowded, boozy affairs. No one would even notice someone arriving late. It was simple to slip in the back way, take a glass of wine and act like they had been there for hours. It was simple for someone with such excellent acting capabilities.

  Chapter 21

  It was a draught on her neck that woke her. After her hangover and short night before, Libby knew she needed an early one. She cooked a simple meal for herself and, feeling the need for some company, ate it in front of the television. Being summer, there was little stimulating drama to become involved in, and after watching half an hour of drivel, she decided it was time for bed. An hour reading a good book with a cup of cocoa would be heaven after a soothing and relaxing hot bath to settle her nerves.

  Feeling self-indulgent, Libby added a capful of her precious Jo Malone lime, basil and mandarin bath oil and sank down in the silky warm water. Allowing her mind to wander, she lay back and dozed, blissfully lulled by the scent of the oil and candles. She dreamed she was floating in the Caribbean Sea, a warm sun gently kissing her skin…a soft caressing breeze blowing down upon…

  …Libby’s eyes flew open. She wasn’t floating, nor was she lying in the sun, but she did feel a cool draught on her skin. Troubled, she sat up and listened. Maybe Rommie, her cat, had just entered by her cat-flap creating a draught. Straining her ears, she thought she heard a soft footfall on the tiled floor in the kitchen. With trembling fingers, she whisked her bath towel from the stool next to her tub and slowly stood up. The cooling water ran down her stomach and thighs as she wrapped the towel around her. Her heart was thudding in her breast as she moved stealthily from the water onto the floor, ensuring she didn’t make a sound. There it was again! A definite noise came from the direction of her kitchen. Feeling vulnerable, she looked around in terror. If only there was something to protect herself with in here.

  In vain, she cast her eye over the pile of fresh towels and bottles of shampoo and creams. She didn’t possess as much as a wooden loofah! Quivering with fright, she crossed over to the door. There was a key in the lock which she rarely used because it was stiff and unyielding. She prayed to God she could turn it. As she turned the key, there was a definite ‘click’ that, to her ears, sounded like a crack from a pistol. Apart from the locked door, she was completely defenceless.

  Feeling exposed in her nudity, Libby grabbed her bathrobe and pulled it on, knotting the belt tightly round her waist. There was a window in the room, but she doubted whether she could climb through it, as it looked too small even for her slight frame. If she stood on the stool, she could open the window wider and could scream for help – but would anyone hear her despite the room being in the front of the flat? Would it just let the intruder know she was there? Uncertain as what to do, Libby felt something hard in her robe pocket, and putting her hand inside, discovered her mobile phone.

/>   She could hardly grip the telephone as her hands were shaking so much, and just as she pressed the first emergency number nine digit, she heard the closing of the front door and footsteps moving swiftly away down the path. At first, Libby felt overwhelming relief. With tears threatening to spill down her cheeks she slumped onto the bathroom floor. Recovering her composure, she discovered she was shaking once more. This time, it was nothing to do with her fear. As resolve flooded into her body, she was aware of how furious she was. Who had been in her flat, her home? How did they manage to get in?

  Convinced whoever it was had long gone, Libby unlocked the bathroom door, grabbed a heavy vase from the hall table and walked towards her kitchen. Apart from a slight tangy, almost citrus scent lingering in the still air, the room was empty, as was her living room and small study. What was more, not only had the prowler left, but there was no evidence of a break-in. Her kitchen door and all the windows were locked, and the safety chain was still in place. Her front door was of course closed, and entry could only be obtained by the Yale lock key. As Libby wandered round each room again, checking cupboards, doors and windows, a chill settled in her stomach.

  If everything was as it should be – there were no faulty catches, or broken windows – then the intruder must have let himself in with a duplicate key.

  Chapter 22

  “I know I’ve been in hospital recently, and some things have remained muzzy since being knocked out, but I swear there was someone in my flat.”

  The two policemen exchanged looks at her choice of words. The senior officer made a slight movement with his head to indicate he was going outside, and the other continued. “Now, Miss Hunter, if in future you think you might have a burglar or any further scares, please don’t hesitate to get in touch with us. We can have a car outside your place within minutes. I’ll make sure a patrol car passes this way during the night too, just to keep an eye on the area. Remember, we’re just a phone call away.”

  Libby didn’t know whether to feel relieved or scared witless. She knew the younger police constable, as he lived just round the corner and visited the local pub when off duty. As soon as they had arrived, she recognised his square features and squat body. Weighing in at about 190 pounds, she doubted whether anyone would mess with him!

  She got the distinct impression the police officers didn’t believe her when she told them her story about hearing someone prowling around in her kitchen and watched their faces while they checked her windows and doors. Of course, they didn’t think she was making it all up, only that they thought she had imagined it. Both men were very polite and patient and seemed quite nice about it, but Libby guessed they weren’t going to give it much more thought, especially after informing them that no one else had a key to her home and that there was no apparent sign of a break-in.

  “Righto then, we’ll be on our way. I’d get a bolt fitted to the front door, if I were you, and maybe another on the kitchen door. Pop into the station tomorrow morning, and you can sign your statement. Goodnight.”

  Libby saw him out and watched as he joined his colleague in the patrol car. After a brief wave, she was on her own once again. Shutting the door behind them, she leaned against it, confused, fed up and annoyed. Had she heard footsteps? She was sure she hadn’t imagined it, and she wasn’t going round the bend yet! She flicked the dead bolt on the Yale and wandered back into her kitchen. When in doubt, have a cup of tea, she thought.

  Waiting for the kettle to boil, she wondered if by some chance someone did have a duplicate key in their possession. The locksmith company? Certainly none of her friends. What was the chance of someone having a whole bunch of Yale keys with one that fitted her lock? She had bought the flat about a year ago from an estate agent who seemed perfectly respectable. They displayed all the right credentials, and the man who had conducted the sale was the owner-manager, so the chances of a duplicate key emanating from there were slim. There must be another explanation she decided.

  Every idea she came up with seemed doubtful. It was more likely she had forgotten to flick the lock in place, and someone had slid a credit card up the crack between the door and the frame, tripping the lock. She felt sure she had seen it done in a crime serial on television some time ago.

  A soft meow had Libby turning towards the back door, and she found her cat shivering outside. Libby bent down and picked her up in her arms. “What’s the matter, little one?” she said, stroking her soft fur. As she lifted her hand away from the cat she realised her hand was covered in blood, and the cat meowed pitifully once more. On closer inspection, Libby discovered a large cut along the side on the animal’s flank. Not a deep incision, but enough to ensure plenty of free-flowing blood. In alarm, Libby grabbed her first aid box and cleaned the wound which luckily soon stopped bleeding. She wondered how it had happened and what the cat had caught herself on to cause the wound. When she had finished, Libby placed Rommie in her basket and stood back watching her. For a moment, it crossed her mind that maybe someone had actually inflicted the wound, and the idea made her feel quite sick. Don’t go there, she thought. The cat often came in scratched after a fracas with next door’s tom. Surely nobody would be so horrible to hurt an innocent animal?

  Taking her tea with her, she went to her bedroom and settled herself in bed. She doubted whether she would get to sleep. It had been the strangest of days. It had started when she woke up in Robert’s guest bedroom, then she saw Nigel as he sped past in his car, had coffee with Robert in her garden and now this latest odd and scary episode, ending with her injured cat. She didn’t care what the policemen thought. She knew someone had entered her house uninvited and bolted when they realised the flat wasn’t unoccupied.

  Someone had wanted to get into her home when it was empty. Libby had two questions. Who and why?

  Chapter 23

  Back at work, Libby found tightened security at the hospital and especially around the houses shared by nurses. More CCTV cameras were being installed, and there appeared to be an extra security staff presence in the grounds. Everyone was on tenterhooks and the female nurses were making sure no one walked alone when they arrived or left the hospital during the dark hours. Once inside the building, the staff were more relaxed, with business going on much as normal, despite the rumours.

  Libby already had the up-to-date information from Jem, who was now back from his weekend in Brighton, and Lisa was willing to fill her in on any detail he had missed out.

  “We’ve already had staff crying off night duty. At the moment, we’re two down for tonight and possibly tomorrow, and they can’t all be legitimately sick. ‘Human Remains’ are at their wit’s end recruiting more agency staff and it’s getting ridiculous. So far, I’ve managed not to get us involved, because I know you loathe night duty, but who knows, if this happens again?” Lisa said, while handing her early day report over to Libby. “I hear your car finally gave up the ghost on Saturday. Have you got it back yet?”

  “Yes. It’s all fixed and the garage says it’s not in bad nick considering how badly I treat it. Apparently, it should have had a service eighteen months ago. I suppose time just flew, and I forgot.”

  “What was the matter with it then?”

  “Um, quite a list of things apparently. I’ve had to pay out for a new battery, plugs, something to do with the carburettor and two new tyres. It’s cost me a packet, despite Robert telling me they were reasonable.”

  “Well, they might well be, and quite honestly you deserve to pay. Honestly Libby, you should have had it done ages ago. I have mine serviced regular as clockwork.”

  “That’s because you’ve got a fantastic husband who takes care of things like that for you. You know how he adores you. You’ll never have to worry.”

  Lisa gave her a look which could only be described as self-satisfied and smug. She grinned and nodded. “And pretty soon he’s going to be doing a lot more.”

  Libby shot her a look. “Do you mean what I think you mean?” she asked, her eyes big and round
in excitement.

  Lisa giggled. “Yes!”

  “Oh, congratulations! When it’s due? Have you had a scan yet? Do you know what it is?”

  Lisa laughed. “Whoa! Slow down please! First, I’m only about seven weeks and no I’ve not had a scan, and of course I don’t know what I’m having. Give me time!”

  Libby went over and gave her a hug. “I am so pleased for you, and I have to admit I am a little jealous. I know I’d love a baby some time when I finally meet the right man.”

  Lisa’s look was gentle as she gazed at her friend. “Does this mean you and Nigel aren’t—?”

  Libby gave a sigh and shook her head. “I haven’t said anything to him yet. I only made my mind up over the weekend. No one else knows, not that many knew we were seeing each other anyway.” She looked and sounded miserable.