She drove up to Higher Tinworthy and parked alongside a police car outside the Grange. The police officer got out of his car as he saw Kate get out of hers.
He studied Kate for a moment. ‘Who are you visiting?’
‘Cornelius Crow, Flat 5,’ Kate replied.
He drew himself up to his full height, which couldn’t have been more than five feet, seven inches. Policemen were not only getting younger, but shorter, Kate decided. When had they stopped recruiting tall people?
She shuddered involuntarily as she made her way upstairs, averting her eyes from the lower step. It appeared to have been thoroughly cleaned, and Kate wondered who was doing the cleaning now as she rang Cornelius Crow’s doorbell.
‘Come in, Nurse,’ he droned as he opened the door and led her into a large, dimly lit room, mainly due to the heavy claret-coloured curtains pulled across the windows. In one corner was a long desk on which an old anglepoise lamp illuminated a laptop computer, which was surrounded by a sea of paperwork.
He drew back the curtain on one window and indicated a black leather sofa which faced the most enormous wall-mounted television screen that Kate had ever seen. ‘Do sit down, Nurse.’
‘You’ve got a rash, I understand?’ Kate said as she sat down and opened the bag on her knee. She observed her patient, who was wearing what could only be called a smoking jacket, in black and silver brocade, with black jeans. It was a strange combination on a strange man who was studying her with his very strange, intense black eyes. ‘Shall I have a look at it?’
She then caught sight of the enormous collection of framed movie posters which adorned the walls: Paranormal Activity, The Exorcist, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, The Shining, Halloween, The Silence of the Lambs, The Blair Witch Project…
Kate shivered.
He watched her intently. ‘I’m a movie fan,’ he said.
‘A horror movie fan,’ Kate corrected. ‘Don’t tell me you enjoy watching stuff like this?’
‘My dear woman, I love watching stuff like this! It gives me inspiration for the tales I tell, the books I write, the nice little twists of horror I can insert into my writing if it looks like it’s becoming dull – little shocks to wake up the reader.’
For a moment Kate recalled childhood memories of herself and Angie hiding behind the sofa, one or the other peeping out from time to time to see if ‘the scary bit’ was over. In retrospect, and in comparison to this collection, these ‘bits’ were hardly scary at all.
‘What about your rash?’ Kate asked again.
He smiled. ‘I must say I rang the surgery at a rather rash moment, my dear.’ He gave a little laugh. ‘I really wanted to ask you a few questions.’
‘Are you telling me you don’t have a rash, Mr Crow?’
‘Oh, please, call me Cornelius.’ He frowned. ‘But never, ever call me Corny.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ Kate said.
‘In reply to your question: no, I don’t have a rash. But I wondered if you could tell me a little more about the final moments of Edina’s life? Did she hallucinate? Go into a coma? Have fits?’
Kate stared at him in horrified amazement. ‘I’ve no idea. She died in hospital and, as you must be aware, she left here in a coma. Why do you ask?’
‘Purely research for my next book. I fancy a poisoning for a change. I’ve been concentrating too much on stabbing and garrotting lately.’
‘And that’s why you wanted me to come up here?’ Kate asked, annoyed. ‘Surely you can do your research online?’
‘Ah, but that was not the only reason,’ Cornelius said. ‘I’ll confess I find you rather attractive. Like me, you seem to be drawn to crime. Fascinating, don’t you think?’
Kate gulped. She needed to get out of here. ‘Drawn to crime?’
‘Yes, earlier this year you found a body on the beach, you then met the murderer and almost got killed, you were there when Edina was close to death and you arrived shortly after Sharon Starkey was killed. Why is that?’
‘Pure coincidence,’ Kate stuttered. For a brief moment she thought of Bill Robson who’d said much the same thing.
‘I don’t think so,’ he said firmly. ‘I think you gravitate towards crime without realising it. Would you like some coffee?’
‘No thank you,’ said Kate, looking towards the door.
‘I’m sorry if I got you here on false pretences,’ he droned on, ‘but it seemed the only way to have an opportunity to see you on your own. And I wondered if I might invite you to dinner?’
‘Dinner?’ Kate echoed stupidly.
‘I am a reasonable cook. I’ve never married, always had to look after myself.’
Kate’s head was in a whirl. This strange man was asking her to dinner, here. She took a few moments to find her voice. ‘It’s most kind of you, Mr, er, Cornelius, but—’
‘I realise you know nothing about me,’ he interrupted, sitting down at the far end of the sofa, ‘so I’ll give you a little background. I was born in India where my father was in the Diplomatic Service and highly respected. I was the result of his dalliance with one of the Indian housemaids, and was brought up along with my three blond half-brothers. The strange thing is that their mother appeared not to notice, or at least not to mind my presence, but then again she was a remote figure to us all. She was a social animal and rarely in the house and I’m not at all sure she knew which children were hers anyway. We were all sent off to
