by Marian Phair
“What can I do for you senora?” He wondered what this elderly lady was doing out at this late hour. Wandering alone around the streets at night was not safe, especially in this area.
“I saw the news flash tonight on television about the wanted killer, Dr Sam, the news reader said there was a substantial reward for his capture.” Maria glanced quickly round the room to make sure they could not be overheard and saw they were alone.
“Well, I was wondering, could you tell me just how much reward is being offered,” she asked, looking at him expectantly.
“Now why would you want to know that?” He queried, “Have you seen this man? If you have any information, you should tell me. It is an offence to withhold information you know.” He looked at the frail looking creature, standing before him, waiting to hear what she had to say.
“Don’t try to frighten me with threats of the law young man, I don’t scare easily,” she warned him, “I may have some information, or I may not have.”
She was a tough old buzzard, he thought, not the frail, timid creature he had taken her to be, when she walked in.
“Now, let us start again shall we?” she asked, looking at him slyly, “can you tell me how much reward is being offered?” She said the words slowly and distinctly, as if he was an imbecile.
“The reward for his capture and arrest is twenty thousand Euros, senora, now is there anything else I can help you with, I am a very busy man and have no time for idle chit-chat.”
“Yes I can see just how busy you are,” she said sarcastically, looking round the room once more, “I will tell you what you can do for me, you can give me a sheet of paper, and something to write with.” She held out her hand waiting for him to comply with her request. Better humour the old crone, he thought, and then he could be rid of her.
The police officer pushed a sheet of paper towards her and gave her his pen. Maria wrote something on the sheet of paper, then taking a key from her pocket; she placed it on top and turned the page around to face him.
“You will find the man you are looking for at that address. I have left him sleeping on my couch and there will be no need to break down my front door. That is the key to my apartment and I will wait over here, for my reward.” She turned away from him and walked over to a small seating area.
She sat down and made herself comfortable.
She smiled inwardly at the look on the dumbfounded officer’s face, as he reached for the telephone.
Had Dr Sam really thought she was stupid enough to become his next victim!
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
“It WAS her, it was Amie I saw,” Millie insisted. Why wouldn’t Sean believe her?
“It can’t be,” said Sean, “it must have been someone who reminded you of Amie, you said yourself, she didn’t recognise you, you were on a lot of drugs at the time don’t forget.”
Forget, as if she could forget. Her heart felt like it was being ripped from her chest, when they finally thought she was strong enough to be told she had lost her baby. It broke her heart when the surgeon said she would never experience motherhood, or would never hold a child of her own in her arms.
“Ok, I have a question for you,” Sean said, not sure how Millie would react to his question, but he had to try and make her understand it could not have been Amie, “was she pregnant?” He hated himself for the look of hurt he had caused, on her face and took her small hand in his own.
“No,” Millie sighed, “the woman I saw was not pregnant.”
“Well then,” Sean told her, “it could not have been Amie, for Amie was pregnant when she left Spain, very pregnant.”
“Just how long do you think we carry babies for?,” Millie asked him, the sadness still showing in her eyes, “she would have given birth by now, the baby would be around eight weeks old. I know in my heart it was her and we have to find and help her Sean.”
How could he have been so stupid? He should have realised, without being told and now all he had done was upset his wife even more. Taking her in his arms, he kissed her gently on the lips. The swelling had gone now; the bruises she bore were yellowing as they faded. They had gone through so much heartache, in the few months they had been married.
It was a good job the police had locked that bastard up. He would have killed him if he had got his hands on him. He was just glad to have her home. They must put the past behind them and start afresh, hopefully facing a brighter future together.
The following day, leaving John-Joe in charge of everything, they walked the two miles into town and caught the bus that would take them to the asylum. It was a huge imposing building, surrounded by high walls. They approached the big iron gates, and Sean pressed the intercom button in the wall. A disembodied male voice asked them what they wanted.
“We have come to visit a relative,” Sean said into the intercom.
“Who have you come to see?” the voice asked.
“Amie Richardson,” Millie piped up, before Sean could answer.
“Just a moment,” the voice said, “while I check my list.”
After few minutes an impatient Millie asked, “What’s keeping him, why don’t he just open the gate for us?” Just as the words were out of her mouth, the gates creaked slowly open, allowing them access into the grounds.
Once in the building, they were sent to reception where they had to sign their names in the visitor’s book.
“Who is it you have come to see?” the matronly figure behind the desk asked.
“Amie Richardson,” said Millie answering her question.
“Just a moment, I will get someone to show you to her room but I am afraid you will have to leave your bag with me.” She turned to Millie, holding out her hand for the bag she had brought with her.
“You are not allowed to give her anything,” she warned them, “do either of you have anything sharp on your person, or anything that she could use to harm herself?.” They shook their heads. Why all these precautions, Millie thought, surely Amie was not dangerous.
“Right follow me then, I will show you the way myself as her room is just down the corridor.” She opened the door for them, and then left to return to her desk.
Amie sat on a hard wooden chair, her back to the door, staring aimlessly out of the barred window. The only other furnishing in the room, apart from her bed, was a chest of drawers and the chair she was sitting on.
Millie went and knelt in front of her, looking up into her face. “Amie,
Amie, it’s me Millie, you remember me don’t you?” She placed her hands over the ones that were tightly clasped in Amie’s lap willing her to remember. The figure in the chair never stirred and the big green eyes continued to stare straight ahead, seeing nothing. Millie tried her best to get through to her old friend, but it was useless.
Sean called a halt to the visit, and led a sobbing Millie back to reception.
“Would it be possible for my wife to have a cup of tea,” he asked the matronly figure, “she has had a nasty shock, and as you can see, she is very upset.”
“There is a drinks machine in the visitors lounge, go through the double door and it’s the first room on the left, just help yourself,” she said, handing over Millie’s bag. Sean took it from her offering his thanks.
“Oh, there is just one more thing,” he said, as they turned to go, “is there someone I could talk to about Miss Richardson’s condition?”
“I will check to see if Dr O’Malley is free, if he is, I will ask him to pop in and have a word with you.” Sean thanked her again.
They were still sitting in the visitor’s room drinking their tea, when a very tall man, somewhere in his late thirties, entered the room.
He came over to them and offered Sean his hand, as he introduced himself to them.
“I am Dr O’Malley and I understand you wished to have a word or two with me.”
“It’s about Amie Richardson, one of your patients doctor,” Sean said, shaking the man’s hand.
“What exactly is it you
wish to know?” he asked.
“What is wrong with her? Why is she here?” Sean asked the doctor.
Millie sat quietly, leaving Sean to ask the questions that they needed answers too.
“Well I can only tell you, what I myself, know of her case,” he said, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to them.
“She had suffered a mental breakdown, and was found in the bathroom of a mansion, somewhere in Fermanagh. I was not told exactly where it was.” He reached into his pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes and withdrawing one he lit it up, before holding out the pack to Sean.
“No thanks doctor I don’t use them, never have.”
“Just right, these things will kill you know, I wish I had never started,” he said smiling at Millie, “it stunts your growth, so I am told.”
“About Miss Richardson doctor,” said Sean bringing him back on track.
“Oh, I am sorry, I digress. She was found by one of the maids. She had slashed both her wrists and it was a miracle she survived at all considering the amount of blood she had lost.” He drew deeply on his cigarette, before continuing, “according to the hospital report that came with her, they had to give her plasma, saline, and six pints of blood all told.”
“But why did they send her here?” Millie asked him, “Why couldn’t they treat her at the hospital? What happened to her baby?”
“Baby, what baby? I know nothing about a baby. Like I said my dear, she had a breakdown; Amie is unstable, having already tried again since her first attempt, to take her own life. That is why she is here, because Amie is a danger to herself.”
Dr O’Malley put out his cigarette and rose from his seat.
“Now, if there is nothing else I can help you with, I must be going as duty calls.”
“Thank you, Dr O’Malley, thanks for taking the time to talk to us.” They both shook his hand, and all three left the room together.
Back at the cottage Millie made up her mind what she would do.
Amie had not shown her any sign of recognition. She had to help her friend. Millie could not leave her where she was, kept under sedation, amongst a pile of strangers, to slowly rot away.
Millie was determined to do everything in her power to help Amie make a full recovery. She knew in her heart, Amie would have done the same for her, if the situation had been reversed.
The very next morning, Millie walked into town and sent a telegram.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Captain Fernandez could hardly believe his luck, as he deployed his men around the block of flats where Maria Bastido told him he could find Dr Samuel Morrison. Removing the key he had been given from his breast pocket, he inserted it into the lock of her door, turned it, then quietly opened the door and signalling to the two officers who had accompanied him to follow, he entered the room.
Doctor Samuel Morrison lay sprawled out on the couch snoring loudly, totally unaware of their presence. Captain Fernandez went over to the couch and shook the sleeping man’s shoulder, trying to rouse him from his drug induced slumber, whilst the other officers searched the flat for Dr Sam’s belongings. One officer returned with the bundle of bloodstained clothing, informing the captain that was all there was to be found here.
“Right,” said Captain Fernandez, “you two get him onto his feet and throw that blanket round him. If he can’t walk, drag him along so he can be charged, back at the station.” He took the bloodstained clothing from the officer’s hand and placed them into a carrier bag he found on the floor beside the couch. ‘Damn it,’ he thought, I must be getting old, why had he not thought to bring evidence bags. He waited until the two officers had dragged the semi-conscious man between them, out to the waiting vehicles, then relocked the door to the flat and returned the key to his pocket, before following them back to the station.
The following day, Dr Samuel Morrison was officially charged with the murders of Melissa Proctor and Ellen Rodriguez. He faced a further charge of attempted murder. The young man he had so ruthlessly mowed down with the Jaguar, sealed Dr Samuel Morrison’s fate with the evidence he gave to the police.
The jig was up, but Dr Sam was not going to go quietly. He wanted his revenge on the ones he felt had let him down. He told the police officer taking his statement, everything, implicating Maria Bastido, Nan Parker, and Dr Fredrick Reid. The interview was brought to a close, when Dr Sam, laughing insanely, told the officer of the plans he had to sell Amie’s baby and split the proceeds with Dr Reid.
“Did you know,” he whispered confidentially, “the bitch fucked off before she had the baby, but I know what happened to it.” He tapped the side of his forehead, “hey, it takes more than that to catch old doctor Sam. We can still make this work,” he added, “you help me get the baby from Nan Parker and I’ll sell it to my contacts, then we split the money straight down the middle.”
He broke out in another mad peal of laughter. “That’s what I did with the first one, split her straight down the middle.”
He was still laughing insanely, as he was being led away to his cell.
Captain Fernandez had made the release of Enrico Garcia his top priority after Dr Samuel Morrison’s arrest. A public apology followed, and a statement made, exonerating Enrico of all implications in Melissa’s murder.
The captain wanted to follow the trail of Samuel Morrison’s deeds back to the beginning if he could. He started by sending all the relevant information he had, to the Royal Ulster Constabulary in Northern Ireland, along with a request to keep him informed of their findings.
Over the next few days, things started snowballing, almost out of control. Captain Fernandez received information from a local landscape gardener, who had heard of Dr Samuel Morrison’s arrest on the local news channel, and of the disappearance of his wife, Sarah Morrison. He told the police he had been hired by Dr Sam to fill in a well in the back garden of the Morrison’s residence, and turn it into a garden feature. Whilst doing so, he had seen a lot of rubbish and clothing in the well as he was filling it in. Acting on the information received, the captain ordered the well to be opened up, and the body of the missing Sarah Morrison was discovered under a pile of rubbish at the bottom. They now had three counts of murder against Dr Sam.
Ralph Newman sat on the hard wooden bench in the courtroom, listening to the evidence being given against Dr Samuel Morrison. The psychiatrist appointed to Dr Sam, informed the judge that in his opinion, Dr Samuel Morrison was unfit to stand trial. Ralph felt sick to his stomach, listening to the medical examiner’s report. The autopsy showed Melissa had multiple bruises on her neck, and her dilated pupils indicated that she had drugs in her system. This was confirmed by a test on her blood which showed Diazepam had been used to keep her sedated.
Examination of her stomach, and the small and large intestine indicated she had not eaten in the last thirty-two hours before her death. She had several lacerations to the body and her nipples were missing.
Ralph could not bear to hear anymore, rising from the bench and almost running from the courtroom, bile rising up in his throat. He went over to the water fountain in the corridor, removing a plastic beaker from the side and filled it with ice cold water draining it in one go. When would they give him the release papers for the body? He just wanted to get out of here, and take her body back to England for burial in the family plot in Church Dutton.
There were news reporters everywhere, cameras slung around their necks, waiting to get a scoop. For once Ralph wished his wife had not been a celebrity, and then it may not have attracted so much media attention as it did now. He could not face going back into the courtroom, and sat outside its doors waiting for the trial to end. He did not have long to wait. A clerk of the court came out, and Ralph stopped him and asked what was happening inside.
“The judge has tried the case and given his ruling,” the clerk informed Ralph, “Dr Samuel Morrison has been committed to a life sentence in Castalia, asylum for the criminally insane.”
“Thank God for that,”
said Ralph, “now maybe they’ll release my wife’s body for burial.” He left and went in search of the necessary documents.
Funny how life has a way of catching up with you, thought Captain Fernandez, reaching for his coffee mug and taking a drink from the hot sweet liquid, as he read the filed report from the Royal Ulster Constabulary.
Nan Parker had been arrested, and would serve time in jail for her part in Dr Sam’s schemes. The baby’s grave had been dug up on the Harding estate, and no body was found. Kathleen McGee came forward and handed the baby she had been caring for, to the authorities. She was not implicated in any way in the case.
With all the publicity the case was receiving, Lord Craig Harding was drinking himself into an early grave. He had been arrested for beating up a cameraman who was taking snapshots of him. The newspapers were full of his story, and there were pictures showing Lord Craig in a drunken brawl.
A young married couple by the name of Sean and Millie O’Neil were caring for Amie Richardson, having secured her release from the asylum she had been committed to. They were also seeking custody of the baby involved in the case.
There was a personal hand written attachment to the file.
‘It is with some regret that I have to inform you Dr Fredrick Reid will not stand trial for the part he played, such as it was, in the scheme of things. His body was discovered this morning, hanging from the rafters in the dilapidated back room of his surgery, the flies and pigeons, his only companions. This was a man highly regarded by all who knew him. He will be sadly missed in this community.’
With an audible sigh, Captain Fernandez closed the file. He could not mark it ‘case closed’ just yet, as he had a few loose ends to tie up.
Maria Bastido would receive her reward money. With lack of evidence against her, for the part she played in helping Dr Sam with his earlier abortions, she would walk free. Just then the telephone rang, breaking him out of his reverie.
“Olla, Fernandez,” he muttered into the phone, then sat bolt upright, as the voice on the other end informed him, they had found the Jaguar, hidden in bushes on the outskirts of Tarragona.