‘You?’ he said, to Claire, ‘go to the kitchen and make me coffee and sandwiches. You go with her,’ he said, flicking his head at Nurse Bryant. ‘And while you’re there take a look in the basement, make sure the old folks are still alive.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Watching Claire all the time, Nurse Bryant crossed to the basement door. The feeling of hot nauseous panic rose from Claire’s stomach to her throat. She couldn’t let the nurse go down to the basement.
‘Nurse?’ she said, distracting her. ‘What shall I do first?’
‘Make the coffee.’
Turning away from the basement door, the nurse went into the larder. This might be the only chance Claire had to retrieve her gun. Her temples throbbed. In one fluid movement she took the lid off the flour jar, took out the gun, unwrapped it, and slipped it into her pocket. Returning the hankie coated in flour to the jar, she pushed it back in line with the other jars.
‘Milk,’ Nurse Bryant said, leaving the larder and closing the door. She handed Claire the milk and pointed to the spilt flour on the worktop. ‘The wrong jar,’ she said, ‘the coffee is in this jar.’ The nurse picked up the jar next to the one containing flour. See, it says, coffee!’ She stood it next to the milk. ‘Lucien likes cream in his coffee,’ the nurse said, as if she was imparting privileged information. ‘but there isn’t any, so he’ll have milk. I won’t be long.’ she said, heading back to the basement door.
Claire flicked the electric switch on the wall behind the kettle, then hastily opened the cutlery drawer and took a knife from it. ‘Shall I make a start on the sandwiches while the kettle’s boiling?’ she asked, waving the knife in the air.
‘Give me that!’ the nurse shouted. Turning away from the basement again she stomped across the kitchen and grabbed the knife out of Claire’s hand. ‘I will make Lucien’s sandwich, you make the coffee.’
The colour had drained from the nurse’s face. Claire could see fear in her eyes. ‘I wasn’t going to hurt you, Nurse Bryant,’ she said. The nurse gave her a sideways glance and flicked her head back. ‘I’m sorry if that’s what you thought.’ Had Claire wanted, she could have overpowered the nurse half a dozen times since they’d been on their own in the kitchen. But she needed the nurse onside. She wanted her to see what a murdering animal Beckman was.
‘You are innocent, I know you are.’ Claire switched off the kettle and busied herself putting out cups and saucers. ‘The police think you killed Beckman’s secretary, but Mitch and I think it was Beckman who killed her. You know he killed her, don’t you?’
‘I know no such thing,’ the nurse said, giving Claire a defiant look.
‘Well if he didn’t kill her, and you didn’t kill her, who did?’
‘I only have your word that Lucien’s secretary is dead. How do I know what you’re saying is true?’
‘Because she knew from the recordings of Mitch under hypnosis, which she typed up after each session, that Mitch had recognised his doctor from the war. The man you know as Doctor Lucien Puel is an imposter.’ Claire saw a flicker of fear cross Nurse Bryant’s face, so she carried on. ‘The man you are in love with, who has manipulated you and made you believe that he is in love with you is a Nazi, a criminal by the name of Heinrich Beckman.’
The nurse put her hand over her ears and shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you. Lucien is a kind man. He’s a clever doctor. What you are saying is lies. Lies, lies, lies.’
‘I am telling you the truth, Nurse Bryant. Heinrich Beckman is a Gestapo doctor who drugged women, men too most probably, experimented on them, and then had them beaten and executed.’ The nurse stopped making the sandwich and looked out of the window. She was gripping the handle of the knife so tightly her knuckles were white. ‘During Mitch’s treatment,’ Claire persisted, ‘while he was under hypnosis, the years he spent in the prison came back him. He began to remember things that happened to him - and to other prisoners - and he remembered the doctor in charge of the prison, Heinrich Beckman.
‘That’s why he went back to the hospital on the day he was meant to leave Canada. Mitch knew Beckman would write a report to his commanding officer in England, and he wanted a copy of it. And it’s a good job he did go back. Beckman had written a fictitious account of what Mitch had said under hypnosis. He tried to destroy Mitch’s reputation by saying he was a traitor.
‘If I hadn’t been given proof that your Doctor Lucien Puel in Canada was an imposter, by the real Doctor Lucien Paul’s grandfather in France, Mitch would have been court marshalled by now and…’
‘What has that to do with me. I’m not German, I wasn’t in the prison - if there was a prison - and I didn’t kill Lucien’s secretary.’
Claire threw her hands up in exasperation. ‘His name is not Lucien Puel! He murdered the real Lucien Puel, killed him and stole his identity papers. That man in there, who you love and admire, is a murdering Nazi by the name of Heinrich Beckman! He had God knows how many people killed in the prison. Beckman murdered an innocent young doctor named Lucien Puel. And if you didn’t kill her, Beckman murdered his innocent secretary too!’
‘I didn’t kill her,’ Nurse Bryant whispered, her eyes pleading with Claire to believe her.
‘Mitch and I know you didn’t,’ Claire said, sympathetically. ‘But the way things stand at the moment, all the evidence points to you. Your fob-watch was found under the secretary’s dead body and your uniform had a hole where
