‘Aw fuck off, McGuire – I needed to assert myself and you know it.’
Hesitantly, Compo took his place at the front of the room. Gus missed his natural ebullience, but from experience he also was aware that Compo’s good humour would bounce back. It always did.
Compo brought up a bullet list of the condensed lab results. ‘A high dose of ketamine was found in Miranda Brookes’ body. She was injected in the upper arm – straight into the muscle which made it faster acting…’
Sebastian Carlton plucked at some fluff on his turquoise T-shirt. ‘Poor, poor girl. Our killer wanted her incapacitated physically but wanted her to be aware of what was happening. My initial profile would indicate that our killer would inject the ketamine into his victim – in this case that poor woman – and then would set up the crime scene. Probably talking to her the entire time. Perhaps telling her what was going to happen to both her and her unborn child…’
As Carlton drifted off, his gaze focussed on the ceiling, Gus considered the expert’s words. What a chilling experience. To be conscious, yet unable to protect yourself – to protect the life growing inside you – Miranda Brookes must have been terrified. Compo, unsure whether to continue, glanced at Gus, then, just as quickly, moved his gaze to Alice. Alice held her hand up indicating that Compo should wait a moment.
When Carlton next spoke, the words came out slow and measured as if he was forming these thoughts as he spoke. His gaze remained on the ceiling like he was reading each word from an invisible autocue on the plaster above. ‘He would derive huge satisfaction in terrorising her. He’d take his time removing the old varnish from her toes and applying the new one. He’d hum or sing that damn nursery rhyme as he worked.’ Carlton, as if oblivious of his audience, began to sing in a soft voice. ‘Lavender’s blue dilly dilly, Lavender’s green.’
The entire room remained silent. Every face was turned to Professor Carlton, Gus held his breath, reluctant to break the psychologist’s flow. Almost as if nothing had happened, as if he’d always been completely present in the room, Carlton jumped to his feet. ‘This killer stalked the victim prior to targeting her. She met all his requirements. He was completely sure she would be alone and that he would have the time to complete his work.’
Walking over to the crime board, Carlton pointed at one Post-it note after another arranged around a simple outline of a man titled ‘Killer’ and as he pointed at each note in turn, he read out loud, ‘Mummy issues, Oedipus Complex, childhood sociopathic tendencies, broken home, male, thirty to forty, motivated by revenge…’
Glancing at Alice, Taffy cleared his throat. ‘Excuse me, Professor Carlton, but are you saying that the woman’s pregnancy is part of his MO?’
The smile that spread across Carlton’s round face seemed to steep the room in sunlight. ‘Yes, Taffy. That’s exactly what I’m saying.’
Again, Taffy glanced at Alice before speaking. ‘Then, what we need to ask ourselves is how could he possibly know Miranda Brookes was pregnant? According to her husband they hadn’t shared the news yet. They’d had a failed in vitro fertilisation attempt before and had decided to keep the news private till they were sure the pregnancy was viable.’
‘Ah.’ Compo pointed to bullet point two on his list. ‘Ah, that perhaps explains why the foetal DNA didn’t match the father – they must have relied on sperm donation.’
‘Get that double checked, Taff…’ Gus didn’t finish his sentence, aware that he’d once more overstepped the mark.
But Alice just nodded to Taffy. ‘Do it. Any thoughts on how our killer could know about her pregnancy? Anybody?’
‘If he was stalking her, boss, he might have seen her attend her scan appointment’ – Taffy’s face was scrunched up in concentration – ‘or, you know what secrets are like – nobody keeps them completely quiet, do they? She’ll have told her sister or her friend, or he’ll have told someone and – well, it just escalates – no secret is completely hush-hush, is it?’
Gus mumbled under his breath, ‘Unless, it’s one my parents are keeping, then it stays secret for years.’
‘Follow up on that,’ said Alice ignoring Gus’s mumblings.
‘One last notable finding from the lab, the saliva from the bitten biscuit matched the victim’s DNA and the dental records further corroborated that by matching teeth marks.’ He glanced at Carlton. ‘Just like you supposed.’
Carlton inclined his head in a magnanimous fashion, before adding, ‘The thing that concerns me most about this entire scenario is how it links your mum, Gus, with those sketches and Rory Robertson. Clearly he is not our perpetrator – apart from being incarcerated – he’s just too old and from all accounts, too frail to be physically capable of manual strangulation and the hoisting of the victim. Which means we need to find a male in the appropriate age range who intersects with your mum, Rory, and the victim.’
Carlton frowned, his gaze taking on that faraway look again. ‘Unless, of course, this is all about Corrine McGuire and the victims are just collateral damage that fits our killer’s purpose.’ He walked over and tapped one of the Post-its. ‘Revenge – maybe your mum has, during her illustrious career as a child psychologist, come across this killer. We need to consider your mum’s career, Gus.’
‘My mum retired from her career years ago.’
‘Yes, but some of her clients would be in the appropriate age band to be our killer.’
Fuck! Just when things couldn’t get any worse!
Chapter 28
Bradford
Fergus was just being himself, but the last thing Corrine needed right now was to be crowded. She needed space, so she wrapped her arms round his huge frame, squeezed tight and whispered, ‘I’m taking the dogs out for a walk. Need some fresh air to clear my head and think things through.’
‘Alone?’ His lips had
