by Joy Ellis
‘Dr Mason is expecting you. I’ll escort you down to his wing.’ The receptionist was a smartly uniformed man of around thirty. He was short-haired, tall and muscular. Not the sort you’d willingly mess with.
Elizabeth was in a private room, with two constables stationed outside. Dr Leonard Mason and a male nurse were waiting with her, and let them into the room. It was spotlessly clean, and although rather Spartan, seemed comfortable enough.
Marie had been warned that Elizabeth would be under mild sedation. She was perfectly lucid but fragile, and her psychiatrist and another medic would remain with them throughout the interview.
Marie had already decided to keep the questions to essentials only, just in case the doctors pulled the plug on them.
They introduced themselves to this possible accomplice to multiple murder in the gentlest voices they could muster.
Elizabeth looked at them with very little expression on her face, until her eyes fell on Rosie. ‘What a pretty girl,’ she said, a strange smile twisting her lips. ‘You remind me of . . . no, she was much blonder.’ The smile remained, although Elizabeth’s eyes were the saddest Marie had ever seen. She wondered who Elizabeth was thinking of.
‘Elizabeth, your employer, Benedict Broome, sends his best wishes. He said to tell you that he is fine and that you are not to worry about anything. He said that you can talk to us quite candidly. We are only here to find the truth. Do you understand?’
Again the head tilted. ‘Ah yes, Mr Broome. Benedict.’ Elizabeth tugged at her sleeves, pulling them down over her thin fingers.
Rosie added. ‘Is he a good employer? Does he treat you well?’
‘Oh yes! I couldn’t wish for better. He’s very kind. I don’t know what I’d do without him.’ They could see her hands, the fingers just protruding from her sleeves, twisting constantly. ‘But what do you want with me? Why am I here?’
‘We have something here that we’d like you to see. We were wondering if you recognise it.’ Marie placed a clear plastic evidence bag in front of her. Inside was one of the name cards from the underground chamber. Even through the film, Marie could clearly see the name, “Lucy,” written on it. ‘Is this your writing?’
‘I think so.’ She squinted as she tried to make out the neat print through the plastic. ‘I’m sure I wrote that.’
Marie heard Rosie take a breath. ‘What is it, Elizabeth? What was it for?’
There was no reply, and Marie managed to quash her overwhelming desire to lean forward and shake her. ‘Is it yours, or did someone ask you to do it for them?’
The fingers twisted. ‘Not mine.’ She frowned. ‘But, who . . . ?’
‘Mr Broome, maybe?’ Rosie maintained a calm, even tone.
‘It must have been, mustn’t it?’ She pushed it back towards them.
‘Or a friend, maybe?’ Marie asked.
‘I . . . I’m not sure.’
Marie bit her lip, and saw the doctor’s sharp eyes on her.
‘Careful,’ mouthed Mason. ‘Don’t push her.’
She looked at the mousy woman more closely. She wasn’t nearly as old as she looked. She was very thin, fine-boned, with almost porcelain-like skin, but there was something about those sad eyes that said she was not as fragile as she made out. Suddenly Marie decided on a different tack.
‘Micah Lee is missing, Miss Sewell. He’s disappeared.’
The fluttering hands flew to her mouth. She gave a little gasp, and Dr Mason found his voice. ‘DS Evans, can I have a word, please? Outside.’
Exactly what Marie had hoped for. As Marie stood up and accompanied the doctor outside, Rosie remained quietly seated with Elizabeth. She would get the chance to observe Elizabeth’s honest reaction to Marie’s statement.
Marie listened to the doctor admonishing her, but watched through the window from the corner of her eye. She saw Rosie’s lips move, smile. Marie could also see that she was indeed getting a response. With only the nurse and the “pretty girl” in attendance, Elizabeth Sewell obviously felt less threatened. Marie decided to dispute the doctor’s objection to her tone and extend her expulsion from the room a little longer.
She drew out their “chat” for five minutes, until the doctor gave her permission to go back in for a short while longer. Marie asked about the tunnels. But this time she saw no comprehension at all. Elizabeth said that she had never heard Mr Broome speak of tunnels or underground rooms at Windrush. She’d been there several times with him, but never alone.
Marie placed the evidence bag back on Elizabeth’s lap, and raised her eyebrows. ‘Any more thoughts on this?’
‘Philip!’ she said suddenly. ‘They were for the cages for some of the animals at his veterinary surgery — the unlucky ones.’
Marie’s head spun. Philip? Philip Groves? ‘How do you know Philip the vet?’
‘I work for him.’ For the first time she really smiled. ‘Only as a volunteer, of course. I love animals. I’ve been helping out there in my spare time for years.’
‘And you wrote these for Philip Groves?’ Marie pointed to the cards.
‘I’m not sure,’ she murmured. ‘I thought his labels had names like Fluffy, and Rocky on them. And little pictures of bones and paw prints? Oh dear, maybe I’m getting confused.’ Her hands began to twist again.
‘I think that’s enough now.’ Dr Mason stood up. Marie felt like screaming with frustration.
The two detectives thanked Elizabeth and they left.
As they waited for their escort, Rosie said softly, ‘Guess who I remind her of?’
Marie raised an eyebrow. ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer?’
‘Very droll, Sarge. No, I remind her of someone called Fleur.’
‘The oldest victim!’ Marie breathed. ‘So what’s the connection between the first girl to die and Elizabeth Sewell?’
‘I’m not sure, but she was pretty annoyed with herself for having told me. I asked her who Fleur was and she clammed up, went on to talk about Micah.’
‘What did she say about him?’
‘She’s desperate we find him. And she said something rather odd.’ Rosie frowned. ‘She said that you and I should leave him to the men to sort out.’
‘Meaning what, I wonder?’
‘Well, I reckon she’s meaning he is a danger to women.’
‘That’s not exactly news. I should think Micah is a danger to anyone.’
Rosie lowered her voice as the escort arrived. ‘I don’t think that’s what she meant. I’m certain she was warning me.’
Outside in the fresh air, Marie unlocked the car and flung her handbag onto the back seat. ‘Right, back to the station, Rosie, and your first job is to check Philip Groves’ vet practice. See if the “unlucky ones” get nice little name cards with paw prints on them, courtesy of kindly voluntary worker, Elizabeth Sewell.’
‘Will do, Sarge. And what then?’
‘I’m even more anxious to discover all we can about Fleur. Her connection to Elizabeth puzzles me, and it could be a major lead if we can identify her. Pitch in with Max on that one.’
As they crawled slowly through the town-centre traffic, Marie asked Rosie what she thought about Elizabeth.
‘I get the impression that she’s genuinely confused, which bothers her. Her confusion is probably caused by all the drugs she’s on, but I cannot see her being involved in anything as hideous as the killings. I’m also certain that she’d remain loyal to Benedict Broome with her dying breath, if necessary. She might be a fruit loop, but I swear she’s not deliberately lying.’
This was pretty much what Marie had thought. But the urgent need to find the killer left her with little patience for playing guessing games. ‘If she needs interviewing again, Rosie, I suggest you go alone. I think you’ll get more from her.’
The young woman smiled. ‘I think your rank put her off, Sarge. I noticed that she didn’t like the doctor either, although she was fine with the nurse and me. I would say she has a problem with authority figures.’
/> ‘I wonder what her problem is? Why is she such a nervous wreck?’ Marie turned into a side road and doubled back to the station. ‘Maybe I’ll ask Broome. If he’s been spending his precious time taking her for out-patient appointments, I’m willing to bet he knows exactly what is wrong with her.’
* * *
As they stepped through the doors into the station foyer, Marie heard someone call out her name. Jackman was beckoning her over to where Superintendent Ruth Crooke was talking animatedly with a tall, slim man with a neatly trimmed beard and dark-rimmed glasses.
‘Ah good, Sergeant Evans, just in time to meet Professor Henry O’Byrne. He’s the friend of Professor Rory Wilkinson that you were expecting.’
Marie did a double take, giving Jackman a sideways glance. The super was actually smiling at the man, and in an uncharacteristically warm manner.
‘Coincidentally, he’s an old acquaintance. Henry is a respected psychologist, an expert in the area of serious child abuse.’ She gave him an admiring smile. ‘He has worked on some of this county’s most difficult cases, and now he’s all yours, because I’m afraid I have a meeting.’ She looked at Jackman. ‘The press have cottoned on to the activity around the hospital morgue. I have to give them something, but I’ll do my best to say as little as I can.’ She shook her head then hurried away calling out, ‘But it won’t be long before the balloon goes up, so be prepared.’
It had to happen. It always did.
Marie shook the professor’s hand. His smile was warm and engaging. Jackman had told her that Rory had called him “gorgeous, in a mature way.” Marie could see what he meant.
‘Let’s go up to my office, Professor,’ said Jackman. ‘It’s quieter there, and the coffee is better.’
First they took him to the murder room, and as he appraised the photographs, they gave him a brief summary of what had happened.
For what seemed like an age, Henry O’Byrne walked up and down, staring at details and then standing back to take in the whole picture. Finally he followed them into Jackman’s office.
‘I know it’s asking a lot, sir, but could you give us some kind of profile on the sort of person who could do something like this?’ Marie didn’t know how much time this man was prepared to give, but the question was worth asking.
‘Well, much as I enjoy the TV crime series, I have to tell you that I don’t believe offender profiling actually works in real life. It is not truly reliable and it can be quite dangerous if interpreted incorrectly. I know the FBI Behavioural Science Unit in their bunker down below Quantico would disagree, but the percentages are on my side. No matter what the dramatists tell you, there is only a small chance of getting an arrest through profiling. In some cases you might just as well draw the names out of a hat.’
He looked at them apologetically. ‘I can see that you are disappointed, but you’d be better getting your man, or woman, with good solid police work and the support of a good pathologist and his laboratory.’ He peered at them over the top of his glasses. ‘But what I can do is advise you using straightforward psychology, the science of mind and behaviour. And that can be very informative indeed.’
‘Great!’ Jackman’s face lit up. ‘I can live with that, and to be truthful, I totally agree.’
And if it was okay with Jackman, it was fine by her. Marie nodded and her mood lightened considerably.
‘So what would you like to know?’ asked Jackman.
‘Might I see the crime scene? I need to be there, to breathe the air and see everything that the killer would have seen.’
‘You sound like Rory. He likes to be first on scene and have some time alone with the corpses. He says they often share their secrets with him.’
‘I totally understand that. But then we do share a lot of similar traits.’ The professor grinned at them.
It’s always the nice good-looking men, isn’t it! Marie thought.
‘I’ll take you out to the scene as soon as I’ve checked on my team.’ Jackman stood up. ‘Are you up for a ride into the misty marshes?’
Henry beamed at Jackman. ‘Oh yes!’
Rosie was just hanging up the phone as Marie approached her desk. ‘Philip Groves’ veterinary nurse says that several of the animals in their rescue centre do have name cards on their cages. Elizabeth Sewell does spend time there on a voluntary basis helping with the rescued animals, and it was Elizabeth who wrote the name plaques.’
‘Mmm. Doesn’t sound like the sort of thing a killer would be interested in, does it?’
‘I’m certain she’s not involved, Sarge. She’s done them for someone else, and I’ll bet she has no idea what they were for.’
‘That may be the case, but it would be helpful if she could remember who the hell asked her to do them. And sweetly barking as she may be, don’t rule her out yet, okay?’
‘Shall I try her again?’
‘Not just yet. Help Max try to get a handle on Fleur first. She’s a vital link.’
‘Will do, Sarge.’
‘We are just taking the psychologist, Professor O’Byrne, out to see Windrush, but ring my mobile if anything interesting shows up.’
‘Okay, but one thing before you go.’ She handed Marie a brown envelope. ‘This came for DI Jackman, it’s from forensics.’
Marie took it over to where Jackman was deep in conversation with Charlie Button.
‘Open it, would you, Marie? I’m almost finished here.’
She skimmed though the memo and felt a surge of frustration. It was a short report on the findings from the drinking club venue at the old chapel. None of the dozens of samples taken had matched any known offenders. Well, at least they had new samples on file, and could use them to tie in any suspects — including one of their own.
‘We are ready when you are!’ Jackman called out to the professor. ‘Get ready for your trip to the nastiest Children’s Ward you’ll ever see.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
As they drove out towards Roman Creek, Jackman and Henry O’Byrne talked about murderers, and what might bring someone to the point where they took another person’s life. Jackman mostly listened.
Approaching the lane that led to Windrush, Henry said, ‘I don’t believe that anyone is born evil. I do think that some people lack the capacity to understand the consequences of their actions. If they are exposed to cruelty at an early, impressionable age, and then continue to suffer violence, neglect or abuse as they grow, then they become desensitised. They become conditioned to believe that violence is an acceptable way to express their pent-up anger.’
‘Do you think our killer is someone like that?’ Jackman asked.
The professor shook his head. ‘Oh I’m just generalising. I need to see a lot more before I start making any judgements.’
They were waved through the gate.
Marie was pensive. ‘Even after years in this job, and having seen some terrible things, I’m still amazed at what people are capable of doing to one another.’
The professor turned and looked at her with an expression of great sadness. ‘Sergeant Evans, when a person lacks empathy, and sees others as objects rather than human beings, they are capable of anything and will experience no remorse whatsoever.’
Jackman gazed out of the windscreen. What complicated animals humans were! ‘In our job,’ he said, ‘we deal with simple criminal activity, but you have to contend with people in confused mental states. How do you cope, Professor?’
Henry O’Byrne smiled. ‘The same way you do. It’s a job. It pays the mortgage, clothes and feeds us. We may be passionate about what we do, but it is not our whole life. I’m betting that you have friends and family, and love nothing better than spending time with them.’ His smile broadened. ‘And it helps that we know the difference between right and wrong, as do most people. I like to believe that most people are pretty decent, all things considered, and we happen to deal with a very small minority.’
Jackman opened his door and got out. ‘It’s nice to meet an opti
mist. It’s quite refreshing. Believe me, optimists are all too rare in the police force!’
Inside the house, the professor looked around him. ‘I bet this was quite something once. Such a shame it’s been so neglected.’
Jackman’s phone rang.
‘Jackman? It’s Rory Wilkinson. Are you free? I have something that you should know about.’
‘Fire away. Your friend Henry O’Byrne and I are out at the scene.’
Rory sounded excited. ‘Jackman, I’m almost certain that none of our victims were actually killed in that underground room. They were all killed elsewhere and brought down the tunnel to the ward, using the old trolley that we found close to the door. There were tiny particles of cloth and fabric caught on splinters in the rough wooden base of the thing.’
‘So we are looking for another site where the actual killings took place?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
Jackman asked the question he’d been dreading. ‘Do you know if the victims were sexually assaulted?’
‘With the older bodies it is impossible to tell yet, although Jan Wallace has compiled a very detailed report on the first girl, the one we know as Fleur. She’s a completely different story and I’ll leave Jan to talk to you about her. Some of the more recent ones had certainly suffered sexual assault and possibly rape, although not all of them. The younger ones seemed to have escaped that fate.’
‘I wonder why Emily wasn’t already dead? She was drugged, and had certainly put up a fight at some point, from the state of her feet and her torn clothing, but she was still alive.’
‘I guess the murderer thought he’d killed her. You said yourself that her signs were very weak.’
That was true. Jackman had felt nothing in the way of a pulse.
‘Jan Wallace says she will be calling you, if that’s alright?’
‘Just in case we are still down in the chamber, get her to ring the CID room. They’ll take the details. And, Rory, we’ve had a lot of response from other forces regarding the girls’ identities, but we can’t say that any of them are hundred per cent positive until we get the DNA results. Any idea when that’s likely to be?’