3 The Surgeon's Blade

by Faith Mortimer

  Think! Think! She told herself. What can you remember last? She glanced over at her bedside clock and saw that it was early morning. The fog began to lift from her eyes as she noticed the silver bracelet and suddenly thought of Nigel. What had they done? What had he done to her, she corrected herself, wincing at the pain between her thighs.

  He had called round last evening sometime around nine o’clock. They had been very civil and enjoyed a few glasses of wine, red wine, maybe even Rioja? Libby recalled Nigel slipping the bracelet on her ankle and running his fingers over her legs, kissing her neck, and then she couldn’t remember any more until she woke up just a few minutes ago.

  She ran her hands over her body, flinching as she felt more welts upon her breasts and stomach. As she slowly realised what had happened, tears fell from her eyes. Soon she was sobbing, curled up in a small ball after discovering the evil her so-called fiancé had done to her.

  ~~~~~

  How long she lay there, she couldn’t remember, but once she stopped crying the pain became more intense. The only thing she could think of, to ease her body and rid her of the humiliation, was to soak in a deep bath. Once she slipped into the silky water, she felt the dirt and shame begin to leave her. She scrubbed her hair and body, cringing, but never baulking as she endeavoured to wash away her degradation.

  When she had finished, she felt a little better, and her embarrassment turned to anger. How could he? How on earth did he manage to trick her? As she replayed the previous evening’s events over and over in her mind, she realised Nigel must have spiked her drink. But why? It was true they hadn’t slept with one another since her return from hospital, but was he so depraved that he needed to possess her no matter what? Her thoughts turned back to one other occasion on his yacht. Hadn’t she woken then, confused and feeling out of sorts with vague aches over her body?

  The pig! The absolute bastard! Well, he wasn’t going to get away scot-free this time. She would get even somehow.

  ~~~~~

  Libby decided she needed a course of action. She had taken a bath and so washed away any traces of him on her. She didn’t know for certain how long a date-rape drug like Rohypnol stayed in the body, but she was pretty sure it was as long as 60 hours. Certainly long enough for her to telephone the police and get a blood sample taken. As she considered her choices, the tears began to fall once again. Never had she felt so miserable. If only someone dependable like Robert was here.

  It was late morning when Libby finally roused herself. After her fresh bout of tears, she had fallen into a deep sleep. She put on a light dress and wandered through to the kitchen. Rommie greeted her with a loud purr as Libby opened a tin of cat food, enjoying the simple acts of stroking and having the cat rub herself around her legs. She felt the telltale pricking of tears once more and gave herself a scolding. Self-pity would not do!

  Selecting a high-strength coffee capsule, Libby switched the coffee machine on. A strong brew was just what she needed. Food was out of the question, so she carried her steaming cup through to her living room and sat down on the sofa. She noticed a broken wine glass that had toppled over and a dried splash of red wine on the oak coffee table. Beneath the table, there were the slivers of glass shards from the broken glass. Libby tried to remember if she had broken it and when, but she couldn’t recall the episode. She picked up the pieces of loose glass in her hand and was about to take them into the kitchen for disposal when there was a distinct noise from her hallway. Slowly, with the hairs beginning to stand up on the back of her neck, Libby turned her head towards the sound. There in the doorway stood a figure dressed in a doctor’s white coat: medium height, slim body, dark short hair.

  Libby stood up and, with a cry of astonishment, shouted, “Who the hell are you? How did you get in?”

  The doctor smiled and raised a hand displaying Libby’s front door key. “You were careless, dearest Libby. It was a simple thing to have another one cut.”

  As Libby began to move away from the sofa, the stranger hissed at her to remain where she was. It was then Libby saw the long blade in the other hand. Panic gripped her, and she felt as if her feet were bolted to the floor. As the intruder moved towards Libby, she saw her chance. Libby bent down and with one hand shoved the end of the coffee table at the intruder’s knees and then darted towards the kitchen. She knew she would never make it to the front door. If only she could escape through the kitchen, she could run into the garden and scream as loudly as possible. She heard a loud oath behind her as the heavy table was thrust away. Libby reached the door, dropped the broken glass pieces onto the floor, and wrestled with the lock…the one Robert had fitted. As she tried to turn and release the safety catch, she heard her assailant behind her. Sobs escaped Libby as she struggled in vain. The lock would not budge. Libby spun round to fend off her attacker and felt the blow from a vase as it smashed into the side of her head.

  Chapter 44

  Just as planned, the attacker would follow the same procedure with Libby as with her other four sisters in death; with legs bound together and her arms pinned to her sides with strong gaffer tape. When Libby woke up and realised what was happening, despite being able to squirm around a bit, she wouldn’t be able to move enough to save herself.

  More tape was twisted around the limp body. When she did awaken, she would be told precisely what and why it was all happening. The others had experienced the exact same procedure, and although a marine environment would have been ideal, Libby’s flat would suffice. This was the last time, after all, and Libby deserved to be informed of how she was a vital part in the ritual.

  She could have been killed from the vicious blow to her head, but that hadn’t been in the plan. The vase was only meant to stun her, to make her weak and pliable, as helpless as a kitten while she was bound. The attacker stood back as Libby began to stir and waited until she was alert enough to take in what she was about to be told.

  “You have to understand, Libby,” she began, her voice sounding reasonable and calm, “you got far too close for comfort. I would never have planned any of this if he hadn’t kept going on and on about how well-suited you both were. Normally, after a few weeks, he would have tired of you and returned home to me. Now, we are well-matched. You shouldn’t have listened to his old, often-told story about how you were the one and how wonderful you and he being together was all going to be. I’ve heard it all a hundred times before.”

  She checked the tape around Libby’s arms and legs. She was lying on the floor in front of the kitchen door. The back garden was secluded and the attacker didn’t have to worry about being overlooked by neighbours.

  “I’ve always viewed his affairs with interest and often admired how he managed to play one woman off against another. But with you, it was different. He said he didn’t need me anymore, and I would be in the way. Me! The one who helped keep him supplied with Temazepam to make his victims soft and easy targets. It’s funny how he loves using drugs like that, but I understand it’s a complete power thing with Nigel. It didn’t take me long to analyse him of course. Once he began experimenting on his clinic cases, I could see where all this was leading. He nearly got caught once when an irate husband suspected his shoddy little tricks, but Nigel had good counsel and is renowned for his smooth talking.” She smiled as she paused and sat back on her heels running a hand over Libby’s bonds.

  “It’s been amusing over the years, but sometimes he forgot our pact, like with you. Like with Amy. She’s been dead three years. Her body’s lying somewhere on the bed of the River Thames, weighted down with stones. Amy loved London and thought she would make Nigel a marvellous wife. Or fair Elizabeth, whose bones are rotting in the ancient woodland of Hampstead Heath; with Gemma, whom I left forever sleeping in a blanket of leaves in the New Forest just west of Southampton; and finally, dear little blonde Susan slumbering deeply in the salt-marsh thick reeds of the shores of Dibden Bay. Did you realise Nigel has a fixation for pretty blonde women? Always nurses, of course. Yes, you my dear wi
ll be joining all these women – your sisters in death. Did you ever wonder about those other nurses? The pretty blonde ones who were stalked and attacked at night? Those were just pure fun. I loved to see their faces change from their ridiculous looks that spoke of their feeling of being above any danger. It was all so easy to lull them into a deep sense of false security when I chatted to them. You should have seen their smug faces transform once they saw my blade! I never wanted to kill any of them. It was enough to mess with them just a little, rearrange their looks. They were women of a certain ilk.”

  She added another strand of tape around Libby’s hands, as if in anger as she recalled her gruesome activities. She stayed bent over Libby, her voice low and calm, almost conversational as she reminisced. “Why the disguise, you’re probably thinking. Well, I was too well-known among the hospital staff both here and in London. Oh yes, all the girls in London were my own little ventures, and it was almost too easy applying make-up and a dark wig. You see, I’m another of Nigel’s blonde girls too, except I’m not like you or them. I’m in charge. I control everything.”

  ~~~~~

  Through the mist in her brain, Libby was aware of a voice just above her head. She was sure she had heard the voice before…somewhere…but her head felt as if it was on fire with pain, and she didn’t dare open her eyes. Struggling to pull herself together, she wondered, what is happening to me? I know that voice from sometime back. Libby had a flash of memory. She recalled a doctor standing just inside the entrance to her living room. It was strange though. Why would he be wearing a coat here? In fact why was he here at all? She thought some more, beginning to focus better. Wait! That was a woman’s voice. So were there two people here?

  Libby opened her eyes.

  It wasn’t a male doctor at all. The face, only inches away from her, was a woman's. As her mind finally cleared, she recognised her. Her eyes glittered, shining with the kind of madness Libby had seen in the eyes of only a few patients during her nursing career. Only, those patients had been locked away. She’s mad! It was Stella! Stella dressed in a doctor’s coat and without the dark wig, recognisable with her longer blonde tresses. Libby knew her from those lectures long ago when she had worked in London. She stared into Stella’s eyes, which was like looking into bowls of pale blue ice.

  “Everything is ready for you, Libby. See, I have your shroud here.” She gave a sudden laugh. “Do you remember that old novel of P D James? ‘A Shroud for a Nightingale'. How apt! I’ve just realised how fitting this all is. You will be wearing the same as the others. Those who thought they could step into my shoes.”

  Stella stood up, and Libby could see she was holding a large plastic bag in front of her. It was a bag big enough to completely cover her small body. Libby bit back a sob. Oh please God, no! she thought. Please don’t let her suffocate me!

  “This is my favourite part of the game, Libby, so I’ll do it nice and slow. That way I can watch your face. I really enjoy watching. You’ll know when the air runs out, when you gasp for breath. I’ll just take it slowly because you’ll want to live a little bit longer, won’t you? I don’t think it’ll hurt, and don’t worry, I’m not going to cut you. No, I prefer to save my beautiful blade for the also-rans. When you’re finally asleep, you’ll be as lovely as Nigel remembered you, my dear.”

  Stella stooped down and positioned the bag over Libby’s feet. She paused when she saw the silver bracelet around Libby’s slim ankle.

  “Funny how he has them engraved, isn’t it? And with my own chosen words too! Such a coincidence.” She slid the plastic underneath Libby until her feet and legs were completely enclosed. Libby kicked out against the plastic, but her bound legs and feet were useless.

  The telephone rang in the other room, and Stella paused to listen.

  “Please don’t! Stella, you mustn’t so this! Nigel means nothing to me. I broke it off the other night, you must believe me. He’s all yours! I don’t want him,” she begged.

  Stella stared into her eyes. “Don’t play games with me. I’ve seen you together acting like a tart on his yacht. Oh yes, you’re a tart all right. I know all about you and that helicopter pilot. Nigel told me. If Nigel meant nothing to you, why does he have a key to this place?” As she leaned in towards Libby, she caught a whiff of a familiar limey citrus scent.

  “It was you that night!” Libby gasped. “You were the intruder!”

  “You’re catching on fast. Now lie still while I bring your shroud up higher.”

  The telephone stopped ringing as she pulled the bag up over Libby’s hips and waist. Libby struggled, but she was no match for the wiry and strong Stella. As the bag reached Libby’s chest and neck, she let out a terrified scream.

  Stella paused, placing a finger to her lips. “Hush! No one will hear you scream. Remember this was your destiny from the very first day you went out with Nigel. In doing so, you became mine, all mine.”

  Libby thought of screaming again, but would anyone hear? She opened her mouth and only stopped when Stella held the knife to her throat.

  “Please don’t make me do this, Libby. I truly don’t want to hurt you. My way is beautiful.”

  Libby studied her face as Stella poised above her, a distant look in her eyes. Libby gave a sob. She’s completely mad and she’s going to kill me. She killed all Nigel’s other serious girlfriends, and now it’s my turn!

  Chapter 45

  Diana finished feeding Poppy and, after giving her a cuddle, took her upstairs for a bath. She chuckled at the grubby-faced little cherub, blowing raspberries from the tub and swirled a sudsy sponge over the tiny body.

  “Come on little one, time for your nap.”

  Dried and smelling sweetly of baby talc and lotion, the sleepy infant was placed by her mother into the cot. Within seconds she was asleep. There was no need to tiptoe from the room because Poppy was proving to be the perfect baby. Diana could run a vacuum cleaner around the room, but she never woke up until she had had enough rest.

  When she went back downstairs, she spied a troubled-looking Robert leaning deep in thought against the wall in the hall.

  “What’s up?” she asked. “Did you ring Libby?”

  “I did. She’s not answering at home, so I rang her ward. Lisa, her workmate, said she was due in at lunchtime and hasn’t showed yet. She said her mobile was switched off, so she couldn’t get hold of her. She sounded concerned as Libby was supposed to let her know how it went with Nigel. Libby told Lisa she was definitely going to chuck him. So where is she? Finally, I rang Jem, who’s just had a visit from the police.”

  Diana thought. “I don’t like the sound of any of this.”

  “Neither do I. Jem says the police are treating Peter’s death as very suspicious. Two detectives are on the case apparently, and Jem thinks he was murdered. He reckons that Peter was definitely on to something with the suspicious doctor.”

  “I think he’s right. Originally, we talked vaguely about Peter being the attacker up in London and down here. I personally believe Peter did witness the attacker here, and the clue is in the make-up and disguise. The attacker must have realised Peter saw him on that night and tracked him down. I believe Peter was an innocent victim and the attacker is someone else and yes, the two hospitals are connected.”

  “That leads us back to my theory about Nigel.”

  “It does, but I did some research earlier on. Did you know Nigel was almost prosecuted for an alleged misconduct at his London clinic? He was accused by an irate husband of sexually interfering with his wife while under sedation.”

  “Libby!”

  “What about Libby?”

  “She said she woke up on Nigel’s boat feeling very odd and couldn't remember what had happened. She also said she couldn’t remember a lot of things where he was concerned.”

  “How tall is this Nigel?”

  “Hmm, a bit taller than me I think, thinner though. Maybe it isn’t him after all.”

  “The attacker is said to be of medium height and sli
ght build. Mmm, make-up and wig. Do you know what I’m thinking? I’m not sure you’ll believe me.”

  Robert shook his head.

  “I believe our attacker isn’t Nigel at all.”

  “No?”

  “No. I think we’re looking for a woman.”

  “A woman? Who the devil—”

  “Peter said there was something odd about the hospital attacker, which he couldn’t put his finger on, didn’t he?”

  “According to Jem.”

  “So, unless we have a whole mishmash of unconnected events and someone not connected with any of this, I believe the murderer to be a woman. As Peter said, the make-up wasn’t quite right. What if it was a woman dressed up as a man?”

  “So which woman?”

  “We’re looking for someone who knows hospital procedures, dress code, layouts of the grounds etcetera; who regularly travels between Southampton and London and probably needs somewhere to stay in both areas where they can lie low for a while. Nigel is involved somehow, but I’m not sure how, except maybe by his earlier misdemeanour. There’s only one person who completely fits the bill.”