The Scribe

by A A Chaudhuri

  ‘That was purely by chance. In fact, we’d intended to take a break from our plan until the New Year, let Carver sweat. But after I’d dealt with Emma, I headed for Piccadilly where I was meeting a friend for drinks. A strong drink is just what’s needed after a kill. And that’s when I saw Stirling go into Duke’s Hotel with Natasha. I could immediately tell she was like the rest of them: a conceited little slut who thought she had the world at her fingertips. Later that night, I Googled her. Found out whose daughter she was. I bet she thought she had it all – a rich successful daddy, brains, beauty, a training contract waiting for her, a horny professor wanting to fuck her.’

  Maddy shook her head in disgust. ‘You’re the one who needs a bloody therapist. You think I feel sorry for either of you?’ She looked from Marcia to Paul. ‘You think your crappy childhoods, your cold mothers, justify what you’ve done? I lost my parents to a drunk driver at the age of nine. But I’m able to do what any sane person does. I keep my rage, my inner demons locked up. I see sense, I know the difference between right and wrong. Both of you have done what you’ve done for one reason only.’

  ‘Oh, and what’s that?’

  ‘You’re both fucking insane.’

  Before Maddy had time to think, she felt the full force of Marcia’s hand across her cheek. Her neck jarred as she winced in pain, momentarily giddy. But Maddy wasn’t finished talking yet. She needed the full story. ‘And how did you both come to dream up your sick little plan?’ She looked directly at Paul. She had to hear it from him.

  ‘For three and a half years, I fought my urges, channelled my anger into my writing, focussed on our friendship, on meeting new men. But it was always there, needling me. I knew I needed to speak to someone, to vent my anger. So I made an appointment to see a therapist in Aldgate.’

  ‘Marcia,’ Maddy whispered.

  ‘Yes. I didn’t know it would be her until I turned up. We immediately remembered each other from the academy. And, as it turned out, when I told her about my life, the way Stirling had shunned me, made me feel so loathsome that I wanted to kill myself, the way Sarah had talked down to me so viciously, I discovered that she understood me far better than I could ever have hoped for – far better than anyone, even you, could have done. We shared a common bond, a common aim.’

  ‘To murder innocent women?’

  ‘When will you get it into your thick head?’ Marcia raged. ‘They’re not innocent. None of them were innocent!’ She chuckled. ‘You should have seen the look on Sarah’s face when she realised her time was up, that her looks and brains weren’t going to save her this time. For the first time in my life, I called the shots. I dominated Sarah, I dominated all of them, and they were powerless to fight back.’

  ‘And you think you’re going to get away with this? By killing me? If I can discover the truth, Carver will. You slipped up with Suzanne. You may have got to her in hospital, but Carver knows it’s not Stirling. And he knows the killer’s female. They found your DNA in the maze, and the back of you was captured on CCTV at Kingston Hospital. It’s only a matter of time before he figures it all out.’ She looked directly at Paul. ‘You can’t hide forever.’

  ‘We’ll take our chances,’ Marcia answered for Paul, who suddenly looked panicked by Maddy’s revelation. ‘It’s time, Paul. Do it, now.’

  ‘Paul, I’m not lying. Carver knows it’s not Stirling and he’ll be coming for you both. But there’s a chance your case will be treated with leniency if you back down now and help me.’

  ‘She’s bluffing,’ Marcia said. ‘She’s making it all up to save her own skin. They’ve got nothing to connect us to the murders. I made sure of that.’

  ‘You can’t do this.’ Maddy still tried to get through to Paul. ‘You saved my life once, and now you’re going to take it? We’ve been friends for so long, shared so many happy memories. We spent Christmas together, for God’s sake. Think about my grandmother. Think about what it’ll do to her.’

  She saw the hesitation in his eyes. Unlike Marcia, Paul had some good in him, despite what he’d done. He’d been doing okay until he met Marcia, but he was the apprentice she’d been seeking all her life. She’d brainwashed him, manipulated his urges to fit her own designs. If only he’d opened up to her about Stirling, she might have been able to help. ‘You don’t have to do this, Paul. You can help make things right by letting me go. What about Justin?’

  ‘There is no Justin,’ Paul snapped. ‘I made him up to throw you off guard. I thought you’d have realised that by now.’

  ‘But what about the photo of you two together?’

  ‘The wonders of Photoshop,’ he smiled.

  ‘Told you,’ Marcia smirked. ‘A whizz with computers.’

  ‘Paul, it doesn’t have to end this way,’ Maddy persisted.

  ‘Don’t listen to her,’ Marcia said. ‘She doesn’t get us. She may have lost her parents, but she had the same cosy upbringing as the rest of them. If you let her go, she’ll go straight to the police. Do it, now.’

  Paul suddenly looked like a confused little boy. His eyes flitted from Marcia to Maddy as he stood there, immobile.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, I’ll do it,’ Marcia growled. She went over to the wardrobe and gathered up the nun’s habit, leather jackets, trainers and gloves, then dropped them on the floor in the centre of the room, about a metre and a half away from Maddy. ‘Move,’ she instructed Paul. He edged backwards, his eyes fixed nervously on Maddy as Marcia went over to the kitchen and reached into a cupboard for something.

  When she returned, Maddy saw that she was holding a plastic can of petrol. Realising what Marcia planned on doing, Maddy was suddenly paralysed with fear.

  Marcia unscrewed the lid, then doused the pile of clothes and shoes with the fluid. It released a potent smell, exacerbating Maddy’s nausea. Marcia reached into her pocket, pulled out a lighter, and flicked the switch. She looked around the room, then directly at Paul. ‘This place has served us well. But once I throw this lighter on the ground, no one will ever know. Any evidence will be reduced to dust, including you, Maddy.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong!’

  Maddy looked up. It was Carver, Drake just behind him. Carver briefly held her gaze, and at that moment she saw more than a policeman doing his job, protecting a citizen; she saw the feeling in his eyes and realised that he genuinely cared about her.

  Carver focussed back on Marcia, who spun round in alarm. ‘Police! Put that out and put your hands up. We know everything. The game’s up, and there’s nowhere to run. You are under arrest.’

  Surprise and disbelief swamped Marcia’s face. Carver aimed his gun at her, while Drake kept his on Paul. She glanced at Paul, saw his resigned expression. ‘It’s over, Marcia,’ he said, putting his hands up. ‘I don’t regret it. Stirling’s a worthless piece of shit, and he deserved to suffer. As did all his whores.’

  ‘No, it’s not over.’ Marcia smiled at Paul, stepped onto the petrol-soaked clothes, raised the lighter above her head and dropped it onto her hair.

  ‘No!’ Paul cried out.

  Flames immediately erupted – devouring Marcia’s body. Maddy watched in horror as the screaming burning figure flailed around wildly. And then, without warning, Paul lunged into Marcia, trying to drag her from the flames. But the fire was too strong, and now his own arm was alight.

  ‘Paul, stop, you’re on fire!’ Maddy shrieked. The heat was unbearable, burning her skin, her eyes, her throat as she coughed and spluttered, trying desperately to wriggle free. She could no longer see Carver and Drake, her vision hindered by Marcia’s burning body. But there was still enough of a gap around the edge of the room to squeeze through. She heard Carver yell at Drake to get Paul away from Marcia and evacuate the building. Then came the sound of a kitchen drawer being opened. As she began to lose consciousness, Maddy just made out the faint outline of a figure approaching her. It was Carver, shielding his head behind the inside of his elbow as he came around the back of her. She felt a sharp tugging,
then her arms were suddenly free, hanging limp from lack of circulation.

  ‘Come on,’ he urged, lifting Maddy up from the chair and into his arms. ‘We need to get out, now.’

  Outside, in the distance, Maddy heard sirens approaching. Her head felt foggy with the smoke, but somehow, she managed to keep awake as Carver sidestepped the edge of the scattering flames. They made it to the door, heard the heavy trudge of footsteps coming up the stairs before a cavalcade of firemen appeared. ‘Anyone still in there, sir?’ one of them asked.

  Carver looked back over his shoulder, panting heavily, his eyes squinting through the thick smoke. ‘No one that can be rescued now. Just put the damn thing out.’

  ****

  Outside the blazing building, it was like a war zone. Hundreds of people out on the street – stunned residents, curious passers-by, policemen, firemen, nosy reporters quick off the mark. Carver carried Maddy to one of two ambulances parked across the road. A paramedic immediately dashed towards them with a wheelchair as they approached. ‘Here, see to it that she’s well taken care of,’ Carver instructed him. As he lowered Maddy down into the chair, they held each other’s gaze.

  ‘Thank you,’ Maddy whispered. Carver didn’t reply, just smiled at her with his eyes.

  He broke his gaze from her to address the paramedic again. ‘She’s inhaled a lot of fumes.’

  ‘What happened to Paul?’ Maddy desperately searched the sea of faces.

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll find Drake.’

  But Drake found him first. ‘Sir.’ His jacket was missing and, like Carver and Maddy, he looked like he’d been mining coal.

  ‘I’ll be back.’ Carver gently squeezed Maddy’s shoulder, then gestured for Drake to follow him a little distance away.

  Although she didn’t know it yet, he was certain Maddy was in shock. He didn’t want her hearing bad news first-hand if that was what Drake had come to tell him.

  ‘What of King?’

  ‘He’s alive. I managed to put the flames out with my jacket before getting him out. But it looks like he’s suffered third-degree burns to the right side of his face, along with his right arm and leg, trying to pull Devereux away. He’s already been taken to St Mary’s.’

  ‘Okay, keep a police guard stationed at all times.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Carver placed his hand on Drake’s shoulder. ‘And well done, son. You’re going to make a great inspector one day. Maybe even Chief. Thank you. I’m proud of you.’

  Drake was overwhelmed. ‘Thank you, sir. That means a lot. It’s been a pleasure working with you.’

  Carver gave him a droll smile. ‘Don’t say it like it’s the last time, Drake. Next time I find myself hunting down a pair of psychopathic serial killers, you’ll be the first to know.’

  Drake grinned. ‘Thank you, sir. I think that’s the best compliment I’ve ever received.’

  ‘I mean it.’ Carver’s eyes creased up at the sides. ‘But don’t tell anyone. I don’t want word spreading that I’m getting soft in my old age. That’ll never do.’

  ‘No, sir,’ Drake grinned again, ‘you have my word, my lips are sealed.’

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Friday, 25 June 2010

  ‘You’re not jealous, are you?’

  Marcia hadn’t noticed Sarah Morrell approach. The party was drawing to a close, and it had come to that point in the evening when the music slowed and the loved-up couples took to the dance floor, while the unloved stood around watching uncomfortably, wishing they’d left earlier, wondering how they could escape without it looking patently obvious why.

  Marcia turned to look at the biggest bitch in the year. Sarah was plastered, her eyes glazed and bloodshot, yet spiked with the same vindictiveness they always held.

  ‘No, why would I be?’

  Sarah looked Marcia up and down, made a spitting sound. ‘Have you looked in the mirror lately?’

  A switch flicked on inside Marcia, but somehow she maintained her cool on the outside, even when Sarah continued her spiteful tirade: ‘I mean, you could have made an effort, for tonight at least. But you’re never going to get laid if you dress like a middle-aged spinster and don’t lose at least thirty pounds.’ She leaned in closer, whispered in Marcia’s ear. ‘And you’d be wise to doll yourself up a bit for other reasons, you know.’

  ‘Oh yes, and why’s that?’

  ‘Because while I was still shagging Stirling, he told me that you’d never make it as a lawyer, that you lacked the brains and the guts to succeed in such a tough, intellectually demanding profession.’ She sighed wearily. ‘But the poor sod didn’t have the heart to tell you. Shame really. I always feel honesty is the best policy.’

  Marcia thought back to her childhood, substituted Sarah’s face for one of her Barbie dolls and mentally stuck pins in it. That felt good. Now she could respond to her comment. ‘I’m glad you feel honesty is the best policy, Sarah, because I’m going to be honest with you right now. You might be beautiful on the outside, but you’re actually one of the ugliest, most despicable human beings on this planet. You have no friends, no steady boyfriend, and you were so unsure of your own worth when you started here with no job in the bag, that you felt the need to fuck a professor to get a training contract.’ She edged closer to Sarah, their noses almost touching. ‘Your life will amount to nothing, you mark my words. You will get your come-uppance. And when you do, I’ll be watching, having the last laugh, enjoying every minute of your pain and suffering.’

  For once, Sarah Morrell was lost for words, never expecting a response like that from a girl she took delight in treating like a second-class citizen.

  It was a response which triggered the making of Marcia Devereux – and the undoing of Sarah Morrell.

  ***

  The present

  Stirling walked through his front door, a free man and yet not really free. He’d lost everything: his job, his reputation, the life he had known.

  Although his name had been cleared, it would forever be tainted – tainted by his arrest, by the fact that his lust for women and casual sex was now public knowledge, by the fact that he’d fathered a child by one of his students, and by the fact that he had been hated enough to be framed for murder by two deranged young people, who’d nearly succeeded in sending him to prison for the rest of his life.

  And now, looking at the suitcases lined up in the hallway, he realised he had lost one more thing: his wife. As he continued to stare at the cases, Elizabeth appeared. She looked beautiful. She was beautiful. And it had taken him nearly three weeks behind bars to realise this. Looking at her now, he realised how selfish and stupid he’d been. It was useless begging her to give him another chance. But he’d give it one last shot all the same.

  ‘Please don’t go. I can change. Give me another chance.’

  She stared at him with dispassionate eyes. She regretted sending the memory stick to Carver, and she was glad her husband was free. But she couldn’t live like this anymore. She could never trust him again, no matter what he said. It was far too late for that; too much had happened. Being separated from him was what she’d needed. In that time, she’d realised she was stronger than she’d thought. She could do this. She was only forty-four. She could make a new life for herself. She could start again.

  ‘No, James. I think you know as well as I do that we’re well beyond that point. I should never have put up with your affairs for as long as I did. Particularly with no children to hold us together. I was weak. But now I feel stronger. I managed without you before we met, and I can do it again.’

  He said nothing. There was no use protesting. He could see that her mind was made up. He respected her for it, and he wished her well. ‘Where will you go?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m going to stay with Pamela for a while.’

  ‘As in Pamela who lives in New York?’

  ‘Yes. We’ve always kept in touch. She was a good friend at Oxford. She knows what’s been going on and has offered me refuge while I
sort my head out. No one will know me there. It’s just the sort of anonymity I crave right now.’

  The telephone rang. Elizabeth answered it. ‘Yes, thank you, I’ll be out in a minute.’ She put down the receiver, looked at her husband. ‘My taxi’s here.’

  Stirling took up her cases, followed her outside, and loaded them into the boot of the taxi. They paused to share one last moment with each other on the pavement.

  ‘I’m sorry I was such a rotten husband,’ Stirling said, his eyes filled with genuine regret. ‘You deserved so much better.’

  ‘You need help, James. Make sure you get it. I wish you well.’ She kissed him tenderly on the cheek. It was the warmest kiss he’d received from Elizabeth in a long time.

  And then she got into the taxi and was gone. And he was glad he’d never told her about the biggest regret in his life – the secret he’d carried around with him for twenty-three years; the secret that most certainly would have killed her.

  And yet, at the same time, it was something that might have prevented all this ghastly mess from happening.

  ***

  Carver was feeling more human again. He’d slept for seven hours straight without the aid of whisky or pills and was enjoying an early morning session in the gym. Sparring with his mate, Lionel, who was pleased to see his friend sober and back in the ring after a three-month absence and looking more like himself, if not a little out of shape.

  Paul King was still under police guard in hospital. He’d suffered third-degree burns and was receiving various treatments. Doctors treating him said he still wasn’t fit for questioning, and so until then, Carver was making the most of a well-earned hour to himself.

  He bounced around the stretched canvas floor like his son’s space hopper, jabbing right hooks at Lionel who avoided his punches with deft slips demonstrating a keen eye and years of practice.

  ‘You’re on fire today, Jake.’

  ‘I tell you, Li, it’s amazing what a bit of sleep does for you. And, of course, cracking a multiple murder investigation.’