He could feel Maggie’s bare toe against his ankle, warning him off. She needn’t have worried. Divine was good company but she was still a stranger in their midst.
‘Tell me a bit about your education system,’ Maggie’s change of subject was welcome, if rather obvious.
‘You mean our high schools?’
‘Yes.’ Maggie leant forward on her elbows and Divine began a discourse on the state school system she’d experienced.
Lorimer let his mind wander as the two women discussed schools and students. it was really late now, well after one o’clock, and he had to have Divine back at HQ before nine this morning. Her body clock was probably all awry. He stifled a yawn as he let their conversation wash over him. He was vaguely aware that they were discussing scholarships of some kind when the phone rang in the hall.
‘I’ll get it,’ he was out of his seat and into the hall in three strides.
‘Lorimer,’ his voice was crisp and formal.
‘DC Cameron speaking, sir. We’ve got a big problem. I’m at the Grange near Mount Florida. It’s a clinic of some kind. There’s been an incident.’
‘One of the patients?’
‘No, sir. Nothing like that. It’s one of the nurses.’ Cameron paused. ‘Sir. It looks like she’s been murdered.’
Divine had made a move to join him but one look from Lorimer stopped her in her tracks. Besides, there was her hostess to consider.
For a moment Divine’s expression showed her sympathy for anyone fool enough to take up with a cop. Lorimer was heaving on a dark jacket as he kissed the top of his wife’s head.
‘Don’t wait up,’ he joked. Then he was gone, the pretty table and the candlelight forgotten as he closed the front door behind him.
The two women eyed each other in silence for a moment then Maggie reached for the Chardonnay. It was empty.
‘Coffee?’ she asked doubtfully, ‘or would you prefer something stronger?’
Divine flashed her a sudden conspiratorial smile. ‘Every time,’ she answered.
Chapter Eight
The big car leapt into the night and soon Lorimer was in the outside lane of the motorway. It should have taken him at least ten minutes to reach the Grange but the clinic came into view a whole lot sooner. As he walked up the drive, he wondered whether Cameron had alerted Mitchison. He would soon find out if the Superintendent had decided to make his presence felt.
‘OK, who’s here?’ Lorimer demanded as Cameron’s rangy figure came up at him out of the dark.
‘Dr Fergusson, Mr Boyd with the scene of crime officers and some local uniforms, sir.’
‘The Super?’
Cameron shook his head.
‘Right, let’s get on with it.’
‘Round the back, sir. The body’s under the house in the basement. It’s a sort of boiler room.’
Lorimer was matching the Lewisman’s long stride as he led the way round the side of the building. There were lights on upstairs, he noticed, and wondered which patients had been disturbed. He’d talk to them later. Find out if anyone had heard anything.
‘A Mrs Duncan found the body. She’s one of the ancillary nursing staff. Telephoned the local station and they contacted us.’ Cameron held up his hand in a warning. ‘Just watch the railing, sir, it’s pretty shaky.’
He wasn’t joking. Lorimer felt flakes of rust come away on his bare hands as the railing sagged against the stone steps that led to the basement. It was obvious that this entrance wasn’t used much. Why come in this way, then? Lorimer soon found out. The scene of crime boys had cordoned off the interior stairs of the basement. Lorimer stood at the back entrance of the Grange seeing the fluorescent lights that beamed down on the figures below. Rosie Fergusson was bent over the nurse’s body. He could only see Rosie’s back and the lower half of the corpse from this angle. Above them, on the other side of the grey room, Boyd’s men were going about their painstaking work.
Lorimer moved towards the body, careful to avoid the area Boyd had sectioned off. Rosie glanced up at him quickly, gave a nod then shifted aside to let him see.
The nurse lay on her back, legs spread out under her uniform. Her arms had been pulled together, though, hands flat against one another, the telltale carnation stuck between their stiffening fingers. Lorimer looked at her face. The soft dark hair had come loose from its hairband, he noticed, and was spilling over her cheeks. Hunkering down beside Rosie, Lorimer lifted a lock gently and then let it fall away from her pale skin. Her eyes were still wide open with fright. So was her mouth. Had she begun to cry out before he’d strangled her, he wondered? There was an expression of agonised disbelief that Lorimer had seen before on the faces of murder victims. He looked the length of her lifeless body. The pale blue uniform was crushed and there were rips in her black tights. That must have happened when someone dragged her down here, Lorimer surmised.
‘From what I can see she’s been attacked before entering the boiler room,’ Rosie told him. The steps of the scene of crime officers echoed against the concrete walls.
‘And then given her flower,’ Lorimer muttered. The parallel was obvious. But would they find some thing here that would lead them to the killer of Deirdre McCann?
‘Oh, no!’
Lorimer whirled round in time to see Cameron’s white face, then the young detective was off up the stairs like a shot. Rosie shot Lorimer a look as they heard a sound of retching coming from the garden outside.
‘Didn’t put your man down as the squeamish sort,’ she commented. Lorimer frowned. She was right, but this was not the time to inquire about Niall Cameron’s delicate disposition.
‘OK. Cause of death?’
‘Manual strangulation,’ Rosie replied, tracing the curve of neck directly below the nurse’s chin. ‘He came at her from in front, grabbed her with both hands, then did it.’ She looked across at Lorimer, eyebrows raised. ‘I think you’ll find the compression was strong and swift. She died pretty quickly.’
‘But you’ll know more in the morning,’ Lorimer added.
Rosie gave him a weak grin. ‘Yeah.’ She cradled the girl’s head in both hands, shifting it gently to one side.‘Hope you will, too.’
‘Don’t bank on it. He hasn’t even left a scarf this time.’
Lorimer looked towards the girl’s fingers, flattened in a gesture of prayer. The red carnation pointed downwards towards her thighs. ‘Just his calling card.’
He stood up, still staring at the young nurse. Kirsty MacLeod. Now who would break into this place and kill a nurse? Only a madman, a voice answered him. Lorimer gritted his teeth. He stepped away from the body and sidled around the area being dusted down before heading for the stairs to the clinic.
‘May I?’ he asked the nearest boiler-suited officer.
‘Just keep right against the wall, sir, would you?’
Lorimer made his way gingerly up the steps. There could be all sorts of traces here where she’d been dragged down. There was a handrail to one side. This one was painted with black Hammerite, unlike the one rusting outside. He hoped to hell there would be some fingerprints on it. The metal door at the top had been tied open with the orange binder twine that Boyd always used. Lorimer kept to the edge of the steps as he turned into the ground floor corridor. The floor was covered in grey-green vinyl, another good source for forensics to examine.
Was this where she’d been killed? The lights had been put out deliberately so it looked as though the killer had meant to waylay Kirsty MacLeod in this very corridor. Lorimer frowned; another suggestion that this was a crime committed by someone in the clinic. His eyes lit up. Could there be a patient here who’d been in Queen
