Keith’s instinct was to phone Sara immediately, but he knew that first he had to conclude the interview.
‘I need to know the name of her doctor and whether she remained in this house after the death of her brother,’ Keith said.
‘I will give you the contact details. After Duncan’s death, her condition worsened. In the end, it became impossible for her to stay here. We found a good place for her, a well-respected mental institution, where she received the best care.
‘At the age of nineteen, no longer a minor, and not subject to any restraining order, she left. After that, we have not heard from her.’
‘Thank you,’ Keith said.
‘You believe that Charlotte killed those men in London, don’t you?’ Fiona Hamilton asked, her voice very quiet.
‘That is not for me to comment on,’ Keith said.
Charles Hamilton sat quietly for a while. He eventually spoke. ‘Unfortunately, Detective Inspector Hewitt, you may have been right about Duncan’s death.’
Keith could see a broken man, a broken family: one dead child, almost certainly murdered by his sister; the sister now a serial killer. He felt great sorrow on leaving the house. He knew he needed to be in London, although not before he had interviewed those in charge at the mental hospital where Charlotte Hamilton had stayed for eight of her twenty-four years.
He knew that, whatever happened, the lives of good people were forever altered due to the paranoia of one child, now an adult. He was glad that he was retiring: too much misery and despair during his time as a police officer. Informing the Hamiltons about their daughter was the last piece of bad news he intended to impart to anyone again.
Chapter 9
The mood in the office changed dramatically after Keith had phoned through from Newcastle. Finally, they had a name, even if the woman was not using the name in London.
Keith had sent a scanned photo through on his smartphone. Sara could see that it was Ingrid Bentham, as had Keith. Bob Marshall, pleased with the development, phoned through to Detective Superintendent Rowsome. The man unexpectedly showed up at the office thirty minutes later.
‘Great policing,’ he said. ‘An arrest soon?’
‘We hope so, sir,’ Sara replied. Bob Marshall stood close by, absorbing the accolades, justified in his decision to keep Sara on the case, although it had been Keith Greenstreet who had provided the first significant breakthrough.
‘Good woman you’ve got there,’ Rowsome said to Bob Marshall as he left the office.
‘She’s a good officer.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘You’re right, sir.’
‘You’ll not find anyone better than her.’
‘I know, sir.’
The detective superintendent’s comments had the tone of a command, not that Bob needed one; he knew exactly what he was going to do about Sara.
With the detective superintendent out of the office, Bob, back in DCI mode, turned to Sara. She was still glowing at the unexpected praise.
‘It doesn’t help much, though,’ Bob said. He had found a seat close to where she was standing.
‘You’re right. We may have a name, even an understanding of the woman’s state of mind, but no idea of her current location.’
‘She’s not finished her killing spree, you realise that?’ Bob said. ‘So far, she’s killed a lover and her flatmate’s boyfriend, but not the flatmate. What about her parents? Are they safe?’
‘We assumed they were, but who knows?’ Sara admitted.
‘Then you’d better make sure they have protection.’
‘Yes, DCI.’
‘And tell the flatmate to make herself scarce. The woman has only killed men so far; we don’t want a woman as well.’
‘I will deal with that.’
‘Sara, now that you’re the shining star, at least in Detective Superintendent Rowsome’s book, what’s your plan?’
‘Find Charlotte Hamilton.’
‘But how? What do you have apart from a name? So far, this woman has killed two people, almost three. And one of them in her old apartment. She may be as mad as a hatter, but she is smarter than us. Why is that?’
‘Luck on her part.’
‘It’s more than that. Ask Keith to check as to her intellectual capability. Even in her deluded state, she may be able to think rationally. She could kill again at any time.’
Sara realised that Bob, yet again, had brought her back to ground with a thud. He was right that Charlotte Hamilton could kill again, and there was nothing they could do to pre-empt her. Their only hope was to apprehend her, but if she could change her appearance as well as her identity, then the chances of picking her up on surveillance cameras or finding her at the haunts she had frequented seemed slim.
Regardless, Sara organised some uniforms to stake out the college she had attended, as well as her former flat and even the Chalmers’ house.
Sara made a phone call to Charles and Fiona Hamilton. ‘Charlotte had a ring; it was engraved on the inside.’
‘I gave it to her the day she turned seventeen,’ Fiona Hamilton said. ‘It was a family heirloom. It had belonged to her grandmother.’
‘How are you?’ Sara asked.
‘What do you think?’
‘Not good, I suppose.’
The phone call ended. Sara assumed that the Hamiltons were beyond conversation.
***
The Mental Health Register showed that Charlotte Hamilton had been placed in a mental facility not far from the family home. There was no mention of Rory Hewitt’s suspicion over the death of her brother, or that she was considered possibly violent.
St Nicholas Hospital, a forbidding remnant of Victoriana, the home of Charlotte Hamilton for eight years, was not a welcoming sight to Keith. The place gave him the creeps.
Rory Hewitt had accompanied him.
They negotiated reception; it was either sign in or they were not going any further, police badge or
