done his homework.’ It was Solly’s turn to frown now. ‘I say his advisedly, of course. It may well have been carried out by a woman. My current line of study is into acts of violence by what we call the fairer sex.’ The hands spread again as if he were apologising for such a statement.
Rhoda was beginning to remember such gestures and also how much they had irritated her throughout her undergraduate year of studying psychology. But this man was giving up his time to help them so she should at least show some polite interest.
‘So, any ideas?’
Solly nodded, his face becoming quite grave. ‘Sadly, yes. I think you have a very dangerous type of person in your area, Inspector Martin. Very dangerous indeed. In fact,’ the psychologist bit his lip as if to prevent the words coming out, ‘I would go so far as to say that, unless there was something material to be gained by killing these women, this person has killed simply because he could.’
Rhoda’s eyes widened. ‘You’re telling me there’s a psychopath on the loose?’
Solly neither nodded nor shook his head but continued to gaze into the detective’s eyes so that she looked away.
‘I can’t believe that,’ she said. ‘There must be something that links these three deaths,’ she continued, almost to herself. ‘Surely?’ she added, turning to face the psychologist again.
‘That’s for the police to investigate, of course.’ Solly nodded. ‘But I believe that whoever did this had selected these homes on the basis of their accessibility as well as for the frailty of their occupants.’
‘You mean he didn’t even know who the women were?’ Martin’s response failed to hide the scornful tone in her voice.
‘Oh, he would know them after a while. At least in terms of their day-to-day habits and when he might find them in alone at night.’
‘So,’ she spoke more carefully again, not wishing to appear discourteous, ‘he stalked them for a while before deciding to push them off the steps to their deaths?’
‘I imagine that will have been his procedure, yes,’ Solomon answered a trifle stiffly. ‘But I must warn you, Inspector, this might still be part of an ongoing pattern.’
Rhoda Martin frowned, head to one side, considering the psychologist’s line of thought.
‘You see, I have looked all around the area and there are still some houses that resemble those of the victims.’
‘What do you mean?’ Rhoda looked puzzled.
‘I mean,’ Solly said with the sort of sigh one might reserve for a small child who has failed to grasp something elementary, ‘that the conditions the killer would be looking for still exist on that estate. And if certain houses are inhabited by vulnerable elderly folk, then.. who knows?’
Rhoda Martin gave a wintry smile. Yes, her expression seemed to say, she’d be polite to this man, the lecturer whom she had once held in such high regard. But now she was the authority figure and he was simply a civilian whose theories, she was sure, would be laughed at in a court of law.
‘Well, thank you for all of that, Dr Brightman. It was very good of you to take the time to come down and help us,’ she said in the sweet tones she usually reserved for men that she fancied. ‘Can I offer you some coffee before your journey back to Glasgow?’
Solomon Brightman was not the type of man to harbour any animosity. In fact the detective’s attitude amused rather than insulted him. He’d done a favour for Lorimer and now that favour meant he could face his friend and give him his opinion on the case. That DI Martin was in charge of it was neither here nor there. Lorimer was down at Greenock and surely he could bring some influence to bear on the triple killing? Sitting on the train, watching flocks of white gulls bobbing past on the currents of the river, Solly smiled to himself. He was enough of a psychologist to understand what had happened back there. A specialist being paid a hefty fee would have attracted much more respect and probably had his views taken a lot more seriously. It was human nature, after all, to value what you had paid for. Still, he hoped the idea he had planted into that young woman’s head would result in the housing estate being included in any routine police patrol.
Failure to do that might well result in one more old lady falling to her death.
CHAPTER 27
‘ I can come home!’
The four monosyllables were spoken slowly but with an obvious delight, as though Alice had been saving them up for hours.
Maggie hugged her mother, hoping the expression of alarm was well hidden as her cheek brushed the older woman’s hair. It was wonderful. Of course it was. So why did she feel that sudden sense of panic?
‘Oh, Mum! That’s great. And just listen to you. Your speech has come on so well,’ Maggie enthused. And it was true. Of course there was still that falsetto tremble and Alice Finlay’s words were slow and slightly slurred, but the speech therapy had worked wonders for her.
‘We’ve got that new sofa bed downstairs and Bill can bring over your own duvet. We know how much you like that one,’ Maggie told her, aware that she was beginning to gabble from sheer nerves. ‘You’ll have Chancer for company every night. If you want him,’ she added.
Alice smiled and gave a little nod. She loved her daughter’s pet and the orange cat knew it, making a bee- line for Alice’s lap every time she paid them a visit.
‘Sister…’ Alice’s mouth was open but the word didn’t come.
‘Kilbryde,’ Maggie supplied, receiving another weak nod for her pains. ‘Does she want to see me?’
Alice nodded and smiled again and Maggie saw the relief on her mother’s face at not having to try to utter the difficult word.
Would it be like this for ever? Having to fill in the blanks. Or would her Mum make more progress as time went on? Suddenly Maggie was anxious to speak to the senior nurse, so, patting the back of Alice’s hand, she rose from the grey plastic chair beside her bed.
‘I’ll go and see her just now. Be back soon. Don’t be dancing in the corridor while I’m away,’ she joked.
As Maggie turned to leave, the realisation of all this responsibility threatened to overwhelm her. Oh, help, she was even beginning to talk to her mother as if she were a small child instead of the grown woman who had wiped her own snotty nose and scolded her for childhood misdemeanours.
The sight of the woman behind the desk at the nurse’s station with that friendly smile and air of calm authority reassured her at once.
‘Sister, Mum tells me she is going to be able to come home to us,’ Maggie began.
‘That’s correct, Mrs Lorimer, but there are one or two details I’d like to explain to you before we can allow that to happen. Would you like to step into my office?’
Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. There would be health care professionals coming in every day and also in the evenings. She wasn’t expected to be at home all day with her mother after all. It was a matter she had discussed with the deputy head at Muirpark, stressing how much she valued her job and how sorry she would be to have to resign, if it came to that. The sister had explained all about attendance allowance and Mrs Finlay’s financial situation giving her the right to have carers in her daughter’s home, paid for by the social services. In time, she had hinted, Alice Finlay might even be allowed to return to her own home, subject to various safety measures being put in place. It all depended upon her progress. A stroke was sometimes a warning of worse to come, she advised Maggie. But with a healthy diet and the correct medication Mrs Finlay might recover well and live for years. Meantime, Sister Kilbryde had told Maggie, if she wouldn’t mind allowing the professionals to visit her home to check that everything was in order, Mum could be with her by the weekend. She’d be telephoned tomorrow by one of the occupational therapists to make arrangements.
As she returned to the ward, Maggie’s thoughts were in a whirl. She had loads of Prelim marking to do and so a lot of midnight oil would be burning between now and Saturday. Plus she’d have to air Mum’s duvet and look out fresh bedding for the sofa bed. She could go to Braehead Shopping Mall on the way home and buy one of
