‘Well?’ said Rupert. ‘Who is going to start?’
‘I was tempted to bring a lawyer with me,’ I said.
‘Why? Are you planning to confess?’ Rupert asked cheerfully.
‘No, I thought it might be prudent to make sure that there was some independent record of this meeting.’
‘That will be quite unnecessary. We’re all on the same side. Now, what was it you wanted to see us about?’
‘Jesus, Rupert, what is this charade? All right, if you insist.’ I took out my wallet and rummaged in it until I found the blue form. ‘Last week I handed in some evidence that in my view justified reopening the Mackenzie murder case. Receipt number SD4071/A. I suggested that the blood type be established. Has that been done?’
‘It has,’ said Dr Kale.
‘What was it?’
Kale didn’t even look down at his notes.
‘The blood sample derived from the Finn initial on the drawing was type A rhesus D positive.’
‘And you have no doubt about the identity of the body in the burning car?’
Kale shook his head.
‘The dental records were unambiguous. But just to dispel any doubt, DC Angeloglou has established that over the last couple of years, Fiona Mackenzie was a blood donor.’ Kale allowed himself a thin smile. ‘A group O blood donor.’
‘Just out of interest,’ I asked, ‘what were the blood groups of the parents?’
Kale rummaged through his file.
‘Leopold Mackenzie was B.’ He rummaged somemore. ‘And his wife was A. Nice.’
I gave what must have sounded close to a witch’s cackle.
Angeloglou looked puzzled.
‘So if we’d only checked, it would have been clear that she couldn’t have been their daughter,’ he said.
I couldn’t help giving a cross sigh.
‘No, Chris,’ said Kale. ‘If one parent is A and the other B, then the children can be any of the four basic blood groups. Which Michael Daley would have known.’
There was a very long silence. I was trembling with excitement and I had to force myself to maintain my composure. I didn’t want to speak because I couldn’t trust myself not to say ‘I told you so’ in some form of words. Philip Kale ostentatiously began to put papers in order. Angeloglou and Baird looked uneasy. Finally Baird muttered something.
‘What?’ I said.
‘Why didn’t we get a sample of her blood at the scene?’
‘The only traces at the scene were those of the parents,’ said Kale. ‘It didn’t occur to me that her blood group was an issue.’
‘I had her in my bloody car,’ said Baird. ‘I had both of them in my bloody car. They’ll probably demolish this police station and plough the land. Turn it into a ceremonial park, with Chris and me as park keepers. With all his
Angeloglou mouthed an obscenity that I could lip-read from across the room. He was taking immense pains to avoid my gaze. My arms were crossed and I carefully pushed my right hand under the upper left arm and pinched the soft flesh hard, so that there was no chance of a triumphant smile.
‘What’s your version of events now?’ I asked in a studiously sombre tone, trying not to stress the word ‘now’ too much.
Rupert was drawing an interlocking grid of squares and triangles on a sheet of white paper on the table. These were then filled in with a series of shadings and cross-hatchings. As he spoke, he never once raised his eyes.
‘Michael Daley faced a double challenge,’ he said. ‘He had to murder the entire Mackenzie family and he had to obtain the money. The first was no good without the second. The second was impractical without the first. So he hit on something so simple, so out in the open, that nobody spotted it. He had a collaborator who looked a bit like Finn – only the roughest resemblance was necessary, since she would never meet anybody who had met the real Finn. And, as her doctor, he knew better than anybody that Finn’s appearance had changed drastically. Any photograph that was published at the time of the murders would be old and of Finn before her anorexia. The collaborator – I’ll call her X – had dark hair and was about the same size, perhaps a little smaller, but that was all to the good. Michael was monitoring the actions of animal rights terrorists, so he knew about the threat to Mackenzie. It’s impossible now to establish exactly, but it is to be assumed that the real Finn was abducted and killed and stowed in the boat-house on the day or evening of the seventeenth. Her parents were of course murdered early in the morning of the following day. Fiona Mackenzie was a reasonably gregarious young woman, used to travelling. The Mackenzies wouldn’t have been surprised if she was out late. The keys obtained were used to gain entry. The couple were killed and Finn, I mean X, dressed herself in Finn’s nightie and Michael made an incision in her throat when the maid was due to arrive. Her face was gagged so the difference in appearance of the similar- looking girl in Finn’s clothes, in Finn’s bedroom, went unnoticed. That was the situation that we encountered.’
‘How could they plan something so risky?’ Angeloglou asked, shaking his head. ‘How could they possibly assume that they could get away with it?’
‘Some people would be willing to run quite a risk for, what was it, eighteen million or so? Anyway, if you have the nerve to try it, was it all that risky? The girl is under a perceived threat, so she is kept secure. Of course, she had to refuse to see anybody who knew Fiona Mackenzie, but there are no immediate family and anyway, it’s an understandable reaction from a traumatized young girl, wouldn’t you say, Dr Laschen?’
‘I believe that was the professional opinion I expressed at the time,’ I said in a hollow tone.
‘And the matter of identity is never in question because the trusty family doctor is on hand to talk to her and to offer medical details such as her blood group from a faked version of Finn’s medical file.’
‘And Finn’s, that is, X’s hospital file has gone missing,’ I added.
‘Would it have been possible for Daley to have gained access to the file?’ Baird asked.
‘
‘What was necessary was for X to take the role of Finn for long enough to allow her to write a will leaving everything to Daley. The only skill that was required was the rudimentary one of reproducing Fiona Mackenzie’s signature. There was one hiccup. The family’s cleaner expressed a wish to see Fiona before she returned to Spain. This would have ruined everything.’
‘So Mrs Ferrer was murdered,’ I interjected. ‘Michael went there and suffocated her. Then returned with me. Any signs of struggle, and traces left by him, could be explained by his supposed attempt at reviving her.’
Rupert shifted uncomfortably in his seat and continued.
‘Then, all that was necessary was to stage a suicide, using the corpse of the real Fiona Mackenzie. That was why it was so important for the car to be set on fire. Daley didn’t need an alibi for the Mackenzie killings because he wasn’t a suspect. But he arranged to be out of the country when X drove Danny’s car up the coast and set it on fire.’
‘It was perfect,’ I said, in admiration, despite myself. ‘The suicide of somebody who was already dead and an alibi created by somebody who nobody knew existed. If there had been any suspicions, they could test Finn’s body as much as they wanted. And poor Danny, Danny…’
‘Rees must have stumbled on the scene when she was pulling out the day you were out.’
I looked down at my coffee. It was filmy, cold. I felt shame burning through my body.
‘I kept her in my house, with my child, with my lover. Danny was murdered. I’ve devoted my professional life to the analysis of psychological states and I’ve been made to dance like a puppet by this young girl. She mimicked trauma, she mimicked friendship, everything. The more I think about it the worse it gets. She didn’t want to go to the funeral. I see it as a symptom. She wants to destroy all of the real Finn’s clothes. I see it as therapeutic. She’s permanently vague about her past. I see it as a necessary stage. She confides in me that she feels no connection with her earlier, fat self and I see it as a sign of her capacity to recover.’
Rupert finally looked up from his drawing.
‘Don’t feel bad about it, Sam,’ he said. ‘You’re a doctor, not a detective. Life goes on, such as it does,
