‘You won’t like me for doing so.’
‘Go for it.’
Evi braced herself. ‘Is there any possibility someone could have accessed the notes you’ve made during our sessions?’ she asked.
Megan tucked a loose coil of hair behind one ear. Then, ‘You think someone has hacked into my records?’ she asked. ‘And then that someone broke into your house and used his inside knowledge to scare you witless?’
Evi pulled her face into an apologetic smile. ‘Doesn’t sound too likely, does it?’ she admitted. ‘But those pranks just seemed so personal. I haven’t discussed what happened last year with anyone but you. No one but you would know I have a phobia about fir cones. Do you remember we talked about it in one of our early sessions?’
‘It’s not just unlikely, it’s impossible,’ said Megan. ‘Our systems at the practice are completely secure. They have to be, to protect all our patients’ confidentiality. Even my colleagues couldn’t access my files without my passwords and most of them, frankly, have trouble switching their computers on in the morning.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Evi. ‘I was on edge and then scared on Friday night. It just felt like someone had got inside my head.’
‘A bone man,’ said Megan, her forehead creased with frown lines. ‘But from what you’ve told me, the bone men were more like bonfire-night Guys. Built around a frame stuffed with rubbish and wearing clothes. They weren’t skeletal. You’re sure the figure in the tree was meant to be a bone man?’
Evi felt some of the tension draining out of her. ‘You’re right,’ she said, after a few seconds. ‘There were people, in that place I told you about, who dressed as skeletons but they weren’t the bone men. The skeletons carried the bone men to the fire.’
Megan’s thin, pencilled eyebrows disappeared into the coils of her fringe.
‘It was an odd town,’ said Evi.
‘Remind me to give it a miss next time I’m walking the Pennines.’
Neither spoke for a moment.
‘Rag week can’t be very far away,’ said Megan. ‘Dressing up seems pretty much compulsory then. And fir cones are very common this time of year.’
‘True,’ said Evi. ‘But it doesn’t alter the fact that someone was in my house.’
‘You mean the fir cones on the table? What did the police say about that?’
‘They didn’t think it was too sinister,’ said Evi. ‘But they advised I get the locks changed. Which I have done. The university’s maintenance department did it yesterday.’
The two women fell quiet for a moment, as Megan looked at her scarlet fingernails and Evi watched a dried leaf fall from the stem of a rose bush.
‘Are you thinking about Harry as much?’ asked Megan.
As if she ever stopped thinking about Harry. He was there, in her head, like an unspoken awareness of her own self. Didn’t mean she wanted to talk about him. And the college porter would be locking the garden gates soon.
‘Are you still worried about the suicides?’ asked Megan. ‘Did you talk to CID again?’
Evi felt her eyes drop to the ground. She couldn’t tell Megan about the undercover investigation she’d instigated. About the girl she’d installed in her faculty. So now she was hiding things from her counsellor. She shook her head.
‘CID believe the suicides are exactly that,’ she said. ‘Suicides. There’s no evidence of coercion or third party involvement. They’ve respectfully suggested I concentrate on being accessible to vulnerable members of the university community and leave them to policing Cambridgeshire.’
‘Well, I guess we never hesitate to tell the police how to do their jobs when we see fit,’ replied Megan with a smile. Then the smile faded. ‘Wasn’t there a spate of suicides when we were here?’ she asked. ‘Or was that before your time?’
Evi thought for a moment and then shook her head. ‘From what I can gather, the suicide rate here has been bang on normal until five years ago,’ she said. She looked at her watch again. ‘Time’s up,’ she said. ‘Is Nick around this afternoon, do you know?’
‘I think he got called to the hospital. Do you want me to leave him a message?’
‘It’s OK. I’ll call him at home.’
The two women left the walled garden and made their way the short distance down the street to the GPs’ surgery where Megan was based two days a week.
As they turned the corner, Evi saw that an expensive-looking Japanese saloon was blocking her own car in. When he spotted them coming, the driver, a man she knew she’d seen before, got out. He was tall, late thirties, with short dark hair, square jaw and a muscular build. His dark suit looked expensive and fitted him well. Evi watched his dark eyes focus on Meg immediately behind her. As a slow, confident smile softened his jawline, she turned to see Meg smiling back at him.
‘Hey,’ he said to Meg, his left eye just hinting at a wink, before turning back to Evi. ‘Detective Inspector Castell, Cambridgeshire Police.’
‘John Castell?’ asked Evi, her eyes flicking from him to Meg.
Meg nodded, still smiling. ‘Yes, this is John,’ she said. ‘John, this is Evi. Do you remember her now?’
Castell smiled properly as he held out his hand. The wide grin gave his otherwise plain face a considerable dollop of charm. ‘I think so,’ he said. ‘I was at Emmanuel. Read Law and Psychology. You do look a bit familiar.’
‘Well, it’s nice to meet you properly,’ said Evi. ‘Sorry if I’ve made Meg keep you waiting.’
‘Actually, I came to find you,’ he replied. ‘Your secretary told me you were here. I’ve been asked to have a look at your report of an intruder on Friday night.’
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Meg. She stretched up to kiss Castell on the cheek before disappearing inside the building.
‘I wouldn’t have thought Friday night merited a detective inspector,’ Evi said. ‘Do I get special attention because I’m Meg’s friend?’
‘Partly that,’ said Castell. ‘But I’ve been keeping a watching brief on the suicides as well, so I’ve come across your name a couple of times before now. I wanted to have a chat with you about Friday, if that’s all right.’
‘Of course.’
Castell reached into his pocket and held out a small, thin sheet of paper in a clear plastic bag. Evi took it and looked down. The writing was very faint.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘A receipt,’ replied Castell. ‘From a card and gift shop in town. Dated three weeks ago. It’s for two greetings cards and a small wind-up toy.’
Evi screwed up her eyes to make out the faint lettering. ‘It says skeleton toy,’ she said.
‘We took the toy you found in your house on Friday to the shop,’ said Castell. ‘They confirmed they’d had those toys in stock until a couple of weeks ago.’
‘So where did you find the receipt?’
Castell seemed to lean a little closer towards her. ‘Well, that’s the problem, Evi,’ he said. ‘According to the officers who attended your house on Friday evening, it was found in your desk at home.’
THE WOMAN BEHIND the hospital’s main reception desk gazed at Nick Bell as if he were a rock star who’d just wandered in off the streets. Not that I could entirely blame her. I made a point of avoiding exceptionally good- looking men myself, they always behaved as though they were doing you a big favour, but there was something about Bell, about the way he seemed oblivious of his looks and gave you his full attention, that was flattering in spite of all the warnings you could give yourself.
