Alice sighed heavily and moved closer to Compo. Compo, for once sensing Alice’s mood correctly edged away. ‘Compo, I’m your SIO.’
She prodded one finger on his shoulder. ‘Not Gus…’ She repeated the gesture. ‘Not Professor damn Carlton.’
Her final prod landed as the door thrust open and Professor Carlton breezed in. ‘Hi all, I’m back, did you miss me?’
Compo once again rubbing his shoulder, smiled, and pointedly turned away from Alice as she turned towards Carlton.
‘You got anything from the crime scene, Prof?’
The little man pushed his glasses up his nose, sniffed, and shook his head. ‘Nothing new really. He’s one away from being a serial killer and I’m working on the ritual which didn’t change.’ He marched over to the wall where the sketches were stuck, ‘Such a shame that your mum’s real brother is dead, really – he’d be the ideal suspect.’ He tilted his head to one side. ‘Well, perhaps not. He’d be almost as old as Rory Robertson, so scratch that. Talking of Rory though, maybe we need to head up north and question him ourselves, eh, Gus? That little road trip I was talking about…’
Alice opened her mouth, presumably to say that she would decide that, but Carlton spoke over her. ‘The officer from Police Scotland couldn’t get much out of him. Her report says he gets no visitors, does nothing but draw, and doesn’t appear to have the wherewithal to co-ordinate anything very complex. He might know the killer – in fact he must know the killer, but she suspects he’s oblivious. Still, it’s a job Gus and I could do, and he wouldn’t compromise the investigation by going there, as I’d take the lead.’
He winked at Gus before turning to Alice with a huge grin. ‘How does that seem to you, boss?’
Chapter 37
Bellbrax Psychiatric Facility, Scotland
The girl with the dark hair and brown eyes hasn’t been back for a few days. I don’t miss her. Course I don’t. But the voices keep coming telling me I do and then they shout at me. I’ve hidden all the drawings of her under the bed, in a folder. She took my other sketches, I know she did, and so that shows she can’t be trusted, doesn’t it?
I bend over and pick up one of my pencils that’s on the carpet. It’s gone blunt so I take out my sharpener and sharpen it. The sharpener’s the best I’ve had because I don’t have to go over to the bin to sharpen. It’s got a little case and I just empty it when it’s full. I love it.
Jimmy’s outside at the raised beds with a trowel in his hand.
The voices tell me not to look at him. Don’t look, Rory, don’t look! So, I shut my eyes and then when I open them, I’m drawing her again. I give her a smile, but I don’t put the lines on her brow. I don’t like them, so I don’t have to draw them. At university my tutor told me I can use creative license and that’s what I’m doing. Creative license, that’s what it is when you draw things a little bit different from what you see. The experts say it can make a drawing better, more personal. She told me we should draw the things that affect us. The things that engage with our emotions. That’s what I do. Lots of things engage with my emotions, but I’m not drawing them again. Not if the girl with the black hair and brown eyes comes back and steals them again. They’re not hers. They’re mine. I count them. I know how many she’s taken. I know she’s got them, but they’re not hers. They’re not her emotions.
I scribble over her face and realise that I’m cross. I don’t like being cross. I don’t like being sad. I don’t like thinking about Helen and I don’t like thinking about Coco.
Jimmy’s sad too. I start to draw him. He’s lonely. He doesn’t speak much but I can tell. He wants his visitor to come. That’s why his shoulders are hunched over and why he was yelling last night until they gave him the medicine. Poor Jimmy. I wonder where his visitor is. Sometimes I think they don’t like each other very much at all. Sometimes when we played dominoes they argued. Jimmy would say, ‘Haven’t you done enough?’ And his visitor would laugh. I don’t like the laugh. I don’t like playing dominoes with them but I’m too scared to say no. I’m glad he’s not visiting any more. But I won’t tell Jimmy that.
I’ll give him this picture. I’ll draw in flowers that aren’t there because that will make the sketch better. It’s OK to give my drawings. I can do that if I want, but it’s not OK to steal them. It’s not OK to steal and it’s not OK to take my friends away either. And, it’s not OK to kill.
Chapter 38
Leeds
The minute he walked through the door of Gerald Hamelyn’s overly white minimalist office that stank of some overpriced cologne or other, Gus could tell he was a bit of a dick. Waving his hand extensively to the two chairs positioned in front to his massive desk, Gus was well aware it was all a power play and it irked. However, he wasn’t there to be irked. He and Compo were there to work out if the fact that their two victims had both received fertility treatment from this clinic was significant.
Hamelyn leant forwards, his immaculately cut dyed hair flopping over onto his forehead in a foppish manner. He steepled his fingers in front of his mouth, arrogance in every movement, and with his lips twitching in amusement, he looked from Compo to Gus and then back again. Gus was aware of Compo fidgeting in the chair beside him, but he kept his eyes on Hamelyn. ‘We’re here to find out what we can about two women who received fertility
