She pressed her lips together. ‘I’ve always thought it funny,’ she said slowly, ‘how many of the wrong people use that word – honestly.’
She sat still, watching Matthew cleaning up with the mortuary attendant, and filling in the forms.
She glanced at her watch. It was ten o’clock.
He crossed the floor towards her. ‘Come on, Jo,’ he said. ‘You look done in. I’ll buy you a drink.’
But she shook her head. ‘Go home, Matthew. Go home to your wife and daughter.’
And she walked out and left him.
‘Sit down, Piercy.’
Superintendent Arthur Colclough looked quite friendly this morning in spite of the working weekend. His face grew even brighter when she related the results of last night’s forage in the mortuary.
‘Clever,’ he said softly. ‘Bloody killers. They’re getting smarter every day.’
She watched him warily.
‘Think you can handle it?’
She nodded. ‘I’ll get back to you, Sir, if we’re getting nowhere.’
His eyes gleamed. ‘Following a number of leads?’
‘Yes.’
He stood up then. ‘Well, Piercy. Mustn’t keep you from your work, must I?’
‘Mike…’ She called him into her office. ‘Sit down,’ she said, and she filled him in with the results of last night’s investigation.
‘So you were right,’ he said. ‘Murder.’ Then he voiced the thought that had kept her awake all night. ‘I suppose it must have been Jonah Wilson.’
She looked unhappily at him. ‘He’s top of the list,’ she said.
Mike frowned. ‘There’s no one else on the list, is there?
I can’t really imagine Evelyn Shiers doing it.’
‘One thing,’ she said. ‘Haddon did the first year at medical school, then he left.’ She shrugged her shoulders and was conscious she had said nothing about Matthew’s connection with the dead woman.
‘See if you can get in touch with the dean of the medical school,’ she said. ‘Get some details about Haddon.’
‘And what about the overcoat?’
‘Let’s have a look.’
The coat had been a good one – Burberry, grey gaberdine. Now it was a rotted rag. It smelled musty, earthy. Joanna picked it up and searched in one pocket. Empty. She tried the other one and pulled out a latch key. She glanced at Mike. ‘Did it fit Mrs Shiers’ door?’
Mike mumbled his reply. ‘Missed that somehow.’
She handed it to him. ‘Go back,’ she said. ‘Better try it. And, Mike,’ she added. ‘Ask Mrs Shiers if she’s ever done any nursing.’
Mike looked meaningfully at her. ‘Well done. You stuck at it. Good for you. I suppose I can be glad I didn’t bet more than ten pounds on it.’
She smiled then. ‘I’m a cautious better, Mike,’ she said. ‘It hasn’t cost you much.’ She waited a minute, then stood up and stared out of the window. ‘And I promise you it gives me no feeling of satisfaction. She was a bitch of a woman.’ A tight feeling of anger suddenly touched her as she felt again the hot embarrassment of the night in the hotel. ‘If it was Dr Wilson,’ she said quietly, ‘he was a better person than she.’
She paused again. Then, ‘Mike... Undertakers use syringes for embalming, don’t they?’
‘So do drug addicts,’ he said. ‘Oh, hell. I nearly forgot. Talking about drug addicts, someone rang for you.’
‘Who?’
He glanced at the message pad on the desk, by the telephone. ‘Patty,’ he said. ‘Patty Brownlow.’
She looked blankly at him.
‘Said she worked at the antique shop. Said she had some information.’
‘Is Grenville Machin still under surveillance?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you a number?’
He supplied it and she dialled but there was no reply. She put the phone down. ‘Let’s go and talk to Dr Wilson, shall we?’
Joanna glanced around the waiting room, at the rows of the old, the sick, the decrepit, the depressed ... all of whom depended on the doctor. And she was conscious of their curious gaze on the two police. Her thoughts reeled. How could one man shoulder such a burden and then go home to a sick wife? And in cold blood murder a woman who believed he was about to make love to her? It didn’t fit.
She frowned at Mike. ‘We’re making a mistake,’ she whispered. ‘This isn’t right. It can’t be him.’
Mike cracked his knuckles loudly. The sound was like a pistol shot and several of the patients looked up sharply. He leaned towards her and whispered, ‘Don’t doubt yourself, ma’am. Let’s just interview him. Softly softly.’
The buzzer sounded. Another patient stood up, hung his number on a board, shuffled through the door towards the surgery.
Joanna looked at Mike. A baby was crying. ‘Have you ever arrested a doctor?’
He grinned. ‘Drunk driving,’ he said.
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then the surgery door opened. Jonah Wilson was walking towards them. She stared. He had changed almost beyond recognition.
He smiled at her with world-weary eyes, bloodshot through lack of sleep. ‘Inspector,’ he said with some relief. ‘I think I’m glad to see you.’
‘We won’t keep you long, Dr Wilson,’ she said. ‘I know you have a lot of patients to see. Just a few questions.’
She waited until they were sitting in his consulting room before speaking. ‘Marilyn was murdered,’ she said bluntly, and waited for his reaction.
He looked bleakly at her, his shoulders bent, his body sagging. ‘I thought she probably was,’ he said.
As she watched him Joanna was struck by a thought. If he and Matthew had been in medical school together they must be around the same age. Jonah looked years older.
‘Do you know why she was murdered?’ he asked carefully.
She nodded. ‘We believe she blackmailed people,’ she said. ‘We know large sums of money were paid into a building society account. Far more than she was earning here in the surgery.’
The doctor breathed out hard. ‘Do you know who?’ he said. ‘Who she was blackmailing?’
‘Several people,’ Joanna said, then took a deep breath. ‘She was blackmailing you, wasn’t she, Doctor?’
She knew from his face. This was what he had been dreading. He swallowed hard. ‘Yes,’ he whispered.
Mike stepped forward. ‘Would you like to tell us what she was blackmailing you about? Get it off your chest?’
Jonah’s eyes dropped and he glanced evasively around the surgery. ‘It was a professional thing,’ he said. ‘A mistake with a patient.’
Joanna glanced at Mike. He gave a very slight shake of his head. They both knew Jonah Wilson was not telling the truth ... at least, not the whole truth.
‘The patient died,’ he said.
She waited. ‘We’ll want details, Doctor.’
Jonah nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘How did she find out about the mistake?’ Mike asked casually.
‘She spotted something in the notes.’
‘Dr Wilson.’ Mike’s voice was hard and threatening. The doctor seemed to shrink. His eyes pleaded with Mike.
‘It was you, wasn’t it, who she was waiting for that night?’
Jonah Wilson jumped up. ‘No!’ he said. ‘No. It wasn’t me. I swear it.’
The worst thing was Joanna believed him. ‘And that’s all you can tell us?’
Jonah nodded.
She tried a different tack. ‘What can you tell me about Paul Haddon?’
The doctor visibly dropped his guard. ‘He’s the undertaker,’ he said.
‘We know that.’ Mike’s voice was hostile.
‘He’s good at his job.’
‘He came in to see Marilyn frequently.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘Was there anything between them?’
This time the doctor was certain. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No. I’m sure of it. There wasn’t.’ He
paused. ‘In fact, I don’t think they liked each other very much.’
‘What made you think that?’
‘I don’t know ... I don’t know.’
There was a long silence, then Jonah Wilson asked timidly, ‘How... how did she die?’
Joanna looked at him. He was shaking. ‘We think she probably died of an insulin overdose. We’re waiting for some results from the lab.’
The doctor looked up. ‘But...’ he began.
‘Deliberately administered.’ Mike’s voice was much harder than hers. She saw the doctor turn back to her as something like terror moved in his eyes.
‘God – no,’ he said. ‘No.’ Then he shuddered. ‘How horrible.’
‘You keep insulin here, in the surgery?’
Joanna could hear the accusation in Mike’s voice.
‘Yes. I think you would find most doctors keep a supply of insulin. It’s used quite commonly for diabetic comas.’
‘Where do you keep it?’
‘Some in the fridge. A few phials in my bag.’ He looked from one to the other, then dropped his head in his hands. ‘This is a nightmare,’ he muttered.
‘Is there anything else you want to say, Doctor?’ Mike spoke very quietly. ‘Perhaps down at the police station?’
Jonah Wilson stared at him. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Please. Who would look after Pamella?’
Joanna started. For a moment she had forgotten about Pamella, and now she suddenly knew Pamella was important.
The doctor blew out a quick breath of air as though he could not hold it any longer. ‘Lots of people might have wanted to murder a nurse,’ he said, ‘if she was using information about her patients to extract money from them. It would be extortion,’ he said. ‘Surely that would be a reason for wanting to kill her.’
‘The person we’re looking for,’ Mike said harshly, ‘wanted to kill her. But he pretended he wanted to make love to her.’
The doctor went white.
‘Oh yes. Plenty of people might have wanted to kill her. But wanting to make love. It narrows the field, doesn’t it?’
Joanna glanced around the room. Sure enough there was a pile of British Medical Journals. She met Mike’s eyes and knew he had seen them too.
‘And the night call that you went on was round about eleven o’clock?’
Jonah Wilson couldn’t fail to pick up the accusation in Mike’s voice. ‘There was a night call and I did go. You can check up.’
‘We already have,’ Mike said.
Joanna rose to leave. ‘We’ll find out who killed her, Doctor. It’ll all come out in the end.’ She hesitated, then asked a final question. ‘Were you the reason Marilyn Smith bought those new undergarments, Doctor?’ she asked. ‘Was she hoping to entice you to her bed?’
Jonah flushed. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No. I swear it. I love my wife,’ he said sincerely. ‘I never found Marilyn attractive. I had my chance,’ he said.
‘Really?’ Mike’s eyes held steady.
‘Oh ...’ Jonah looked as though he wished he had not spoken. ‘She had a bit of a thing about me, years ago. It was nothing. I married Pamella.’ He scratched his head. ‘I’ve never regretted it, even though my wife is sick. To be frank,’ he said, ‘Marilyn revolted me.’ His eyes were filled with shame and Joanna knew Marilyn would have made this shy man’s life a misery.
He looked at Joanna with a pleading expression in his eyes. ‘What can I do to convince you?’
‘You don’t have to, for the moment,’ she said, and rose to leave. ‘But I don’t want you to take any trips out of the area, Dr Wilson.’ We’ll need you in for further questioning.’
The doctor nodded with a glimmer of dry humour. ‘I understand, Inspector,’ he said. ‘Don’t leave town.’
They left the surgery little wiser.
Mike attempted an encouraging grin. ‘So far so good,’ he said.
‘But what do you think, Mike?’
He rubbed the back of his neck in an awkward gesture. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’m like you. The facts fit. Everything fits except him. I can’t see him killing someone. He isn’t the type.’
‘They can’t all fit into some psychologist’s profile,’ she said. ‘We’ll have to shake that one off. He has to have done it. Who else?’
Something triggered a picture in her mind: long, bony white fingers touching dead flesh, unnaturally pale skin, a thin gash of a mouth, a faintly lascivious look in the dark eyes. On impulse she touched Mike’s arm. ‘Come with me,’ she said.
‘Where?’
‘The funeral parlour.’
Four gleaming black limousines stood outside, parked side by side. All were empty, including the hearse. Joanna approached the glazed door with a feeling of sick apprehension, even though Mike was near enough to touch. They said nothing but crept nearer the door.
It was still inside, and empty. They moved in without knocking, creeping across the thick carpet towards the chapel of rest, towards a just perceptible sound – a rhythmic, animal grunting ...
What was it the dean of the medical school had said ...? ‘An indecent act with his allocated body.’ With a feeling of sick horror she knew what she would find inside and looked helplessly at Mike. From his face she knew the thought had not crossed his mind. But he didn’t know all that she knew.
The door into the chapel was thick oak, with twin panels of bottle glass through which she could see a dark shape moving up and down... up and down. As they listened they heard him cry out and groan. And then they pushed open the door.
He stood up, grey and sick-looking, his wet, pink, obscene object the only splash of colour in the room apart from the bright colours of spring bouquets set around the chapel, flowers of mourning.
‘Oh, God ...’ Mike’s face was white with shock as he found himself staring at a wax-faced corpse.
Paul Haddon struggled with his trousers. Eyes starting out of his head, he began to jibber and as quickly sank down on the steps in front of the altar and collapsed in high-pitched, hysterical sobs.
Chapter 14
The telephone was ringing as she walked into her office but when she picked it up the name meant nothing to her. Yesterday’s events still crowded her mind.
‘Patty Brownlow,’ the voice said again. ‘I work at the antique shop.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Joanna apologized. ‘I do remember. What can I do for you?’ She mouthed the girl’s name to Mike through the open door.
‘It isn’t what you can do for me ...’ The girl sounded irritated.
‘Then what...?’
‘It’s what I can do for you. Listen, I’m not coming down the nick. He’d find out, but I can help you nail him.’
Mike was by her side, breathing down her neck, trying to listen.
‘Is it about the nurse?’
‘No ...’ the girl said impatiently. ‘He knew her all right. Paid her money, too. In fact he’d have liked to have got his hands around her bloody neck. You know all that stuff round at her house? She never paid a bean for it. Just waltzed in ... took her pick.’
‘Why?’
‘She found out things... things she’d no business knowing.’
‘How did she find out?’
‘Maybe I’ll tell you, maybe not, but she knew plenty about old Gren. She had enough to pop him in a cage for the rest of his life. Did you know she’d been to Spain?’
Joanna shook her head. ‘No, but what’s that got to do with ...’
‘The doll...’ Mike was hissing in her ear. ‘The flamenco doll. In the bedroom,’ he added.
Joanna recalled it, standing more than three feet high, back bent, arms outflung, frilled dress, shocking pink, black mantilla. She nodded. ‘Patty,’ she said, ‘what’s Spain got to do with it?’
‘Tell you later,’ the girl said softly, and, after a pause, ‘Look, do you want what I can give you or not?’
Joanna sighed. She didn’t want to be sidetracked. Not now when she was so close. ‘I’m investigating a murder.’
>
Mike scowled, his jaw set. His great ham fist was clenched. Joanna knew he would have liked to bring it slamming down on to the desk. ‘For God’s sake,’ he said through clenched teeth.
‘I don’t know anything about that.’ The girl was uncompromising. ‘But I do know this. He didn’t kill her.’
‘How do you know?’
‘’Cause I was bloody well with him all that night.’
‘So what have you got for me?’ Joanna asked wearily. The girl was scornful. ‘Don’t you coppers ever want to nick anyone these days? Haven’t you even noticed someone’s helping themselves to every bloody Doulton figure within a thirty-mile radius? Don’t you understand crack and heroin are cheaper here than in bloody Colombia?’
Now Joanna knew she could not afford to ignore Patty’s information. ‘Exactly what do you know?’ she asked coldly.
The girl gave a dry laugh. ‘The bloody lot,’ she said.
In his anxiety to hear Mike was leaning on her. Joanna shifted irritably and listened to Patty’s scornful voice. ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t know it was him all along?’
Mike let out his breath in a slow, satisfied gasp.
‘Listen, I rang up to say this. You’ll have to move fast. Unloading’s tonight. If you don’t catch him I don’t know when the next lot’s due. And, it won’t be at the warehouse. Try Good Cow Farm... the barns around the back.’
‘Patty. He’s your boyfriend. Why are you doing this?’
Well... that’s my business, not yours. I have my reasons.’ She paused, then added, ‘Don’t cock it up, will you? He’s getting more and more devious. It’ll be some time after midnight. All right?’
The phone went dead and Joanna met Mike’s eyes.
He couldn’t conceal his delight. ‘Bloody marvellous,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Bloody brilliant.’
‘Look...’ she said awkwardly. ‘I am in the middle of a murder investigation ...’
‘Joanna. You can’t ignore a hint like this. You just can’t.’
She rubbed her forehead. ‘Mike,’ she said, ‘I’m nearly ready to bring the whole thing to a close. The inquest is in two days’ time. I’ve got reports to write.’ She grinned. ‘It’s all right, Mike,’ she said. ‘I’m only winding you up. Let’s get things sorted out for tonight, shall we? There’s a lot to do.’
Winding Up the Serpent Page 16