from Coutts himself.
They’d known the details about the signature had to have come from someone on the team. Forensics had drawn a blank, though. Coutts had simply walked into Solly’s room and read the file on Deirdre McCann. And his supposed weekend in Failte had been cleverly timed so that he was the only patient not to have given a DNA sample. Lorimer looked out at the clouds banking up against the window. Such intricate planning! And yet there was still a chance Coutts would wriggle out of it all as unfit to plead. Well, his destiny was in other hands now, Lorimer knew. But it was a thought that gave him little satisfaction.
Chapter Forty-One
The preliminary hearing had been postponed again. Maureen Baillie knew she should have been pleased but the tension of those last months was finally get ting to her. Her post at the Grange would be terminated whenever a suitable candidate was chosen but her fellow directors were being surprisingly slow about finding a replacement. Mrs Baillie had her suspicions that a certain DCI was pulling strings on her behalf. There was no way she’d be reinstated once the case had come to court, but until then her duties continued as normal. Phyllis was still here too, languishing under that cruel disease. She’d been horrified when Lorimer had revealed the extent of the legacy left to her. As Phyllis’s nurse for so many long years she had been told to expect a ‘little something’. Shame had made her seek out Maxwell Richards. He’d been quite matter-of-fact about her problem. Now she was determined never to gamble again. No matter what happened.
It was some relief that she had been kept on after the arrest of that man, Coutts, especially when Phyllis was so poorly. The woman needed her, though she might not know it. The Director of the clinic had made it her personal business to have the Multiple Sclerosis patient nursed with extra special care those past few weeks. She knew from experience what that disease could do, remembering her own mother dying far too young, and had vowed that Phyllis should be given as much personal dignity as was possible. The Chief Inspector had become a regular visitor.
Mrs Baillie, who left Phyllis and DCI Lorimer discreetly alone at visiting times, often wondered what he said to her.
It was early morning. Phyllis could hear the blackbirds on the lawn outside her window. Their dawn chorus roused her from a shallow sleep every morning. Even with the blinds shut she knew the sunlight would be making the sky a pearly pink. It had rained last night; she’d heard it against the glass. Now she could imagine the sweet scent of newly cut, wet grass as the sun steamed it dry. Her shoulders felt cold. The bedclothes had slipped off her thin cotton nightdress some time during the night.
There was another new nurse on duty. Phyllis had rather wished that policewoman could have stayed on but of course that was impossible. She was all right, now. Just a knock on the head, Lorimer had told her.
The events of that night had left their mark on her, too. Maureen had fussed in and out for days afterwards.
Phyllis tried to breathe deeply and heard the rattle in her chest. She’d been so hot during the night but now her arms were covered in gooseflesh. All she could think of was how tired she felt and how noisy the birds were outside. Maybe she’d slip into a decent sleep again before the nurse came to begin the morning routine. She’d been so weary after Lorimer’s visit yesterday. He’d not stayed too long, but he’d told her things about that man, things she didn’t really want to hear. It was over now and all she longed for was the blessed oblivion of a deep, deep sleep.
Phyllis closed her eyes as the blackbird on the lawn opened his throat in celebration of another new day.
‘Sure you’ve got everything you want?’ Lorimer asked anxiously.
‘I’m sure,’ Maggie replied, biting the flesh inside her mouth to stop the sudden tremor in her voice. It wouldn’t do to let tears spill at this stage.
‘Phone me when you get in. OK?’
‘I will. I promise,’ she said.
Lorimer gave her a hug then Maggie turned away before he could see her face.
The slope up towards Passport Control seemed to go on forever.
‘Don’t look back,’ she told herself. ‘Don’t look back.’
At the desk, Maggie Lorimer handed over her passport to a woman in uniform. In front of her a queue was forming at the baggage x-ray. Most of them would be holidaymakers off to Florida for a fortnight of sunshine and Disney. She should feel so lucky, shouldn’t she? After all, she was going to spend the next ten months in the Sunshine State.
Maggie took back her passport and hesitated, just for a moment, then turned her head to scan the crowds below her. The Costa Coffee seemed full of yuppies with mobile phones. Outside the avenue of shops, people were milling around, their holiday clothes bright splashes of colour against the cool airport interior.
Maggie looked and looked, trying to see her husband among the crowd below.
But he was gone.
