by Paul Charles
Tracey McGee raised her eyebrows.
‘Can you have children, Miss McGee?’ Kennedy asked, hands deep in pockets, head slightly bowed but still managing to keep eye contact with Tracey.
Tracey McGee’s eyes filled slowly with tears. ‘No inspector, I can’t have children. Neither can Susan. That’s why neither of us were able to hold on to Wilkenson.’
Then she shut the door in Kennedy’s face, but gently.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
‘We’re beginning to make progress now, WPC Coles. I can feel it.’ Kennedy slid into the Granada and fastened his seat belt.
‘What? You know who murdered Wilko?’ Coles asked, ‘And KP?’
‘No. Not yet. But at least now we are starting to accumulate some vital pieces of information. That’s equally important. The more information we have the less chance that we are going to try and make the murder and motive fit the information. Pretty soon we’ll have so much information that we’ll have our culprit.’
‘Or culprits, sir.’
‘Or culprits, WPC Coles,’ Kennedy agreed. ‘Very good point’.
Kennedy and Coles had been joined in the DI’s office by DS Irvine. Kennedy went over to his window and watched as the traffic trudged through the melting snow heading towards Parkway. The office lights on the other side of the street were lit up and reflecting in the snow, but Kennedy’s thoughts were elsewhere.
‘So, you think Colette murdered Wilko?’ Irvine asked.
‘Well,’ Kennedy began, picking up his cup of piping hot tea and turning towards his noticeboard, ‘that’s a possibility, I suppose. But it could still be the McSisters. With our recent information, they may even have moved up our list. Then of course it could have been Sean…’
Irvine turned up his eyebrows at this.
‘You don’t think so then, James?’
‘Sure, he’s only knee-high to a packet of Surf. He couldn’t hurt a fly,’ Irvine replied.
‘Perhaps, but have you considered the fact that may be the reason the instrument of death is so small, needle-like and very sharp, so that it is very easy for a weaker person to stab the victim? You just need to know where to put it and push. But then again, the security guard at Dingwalls swears Sean didn’t go backstage on Thursday night.’
Kennedy got the call he was waiting for, through from the front desk. It was Sgt Timothy Flynn, advising the DI that Rose Butler was waiting in reception for him.
‘Okay, we’ll get back to Wilko. In the meantime we have our other little adventure awaiting us.’ Kennedy had previously briefed them both on the Dr Ranjesus affair and he had enlisted their help on the night’s wiretapping trip, all officially approved by Superintendent Thomas Castle.
Kennedy addressed Coles.
‘Could you go and collect Rose and help her get fitted up with the wire?’
‘Sure, I could do that,’ Irvine joked.
‘Not before you’ve had some counselling,’ Kennedy replied, light-heartedly. Coles laughed and left the room.
‘It’s perfectly fine, sir. Rose and I are okay with each other now. Maybe someday we’ll even become great mates. I like her, I like her a lot. Don’t worry, it won’t be a problem for either of us. I just hope it’s a major problem for that shit Ranjesus.’
The phone rang again. Kennedy picked it up.
‘Oh, hi ann rea.’
Irvine mouthed the words, ‘See you at the car.’
‘Hey, Kennedy,’ ann rea continued after the initial greeting, ‘it’s after seven. Are you coming out to play?’
‘Not tonight,’ Kennedy said with regret. ‘I’m just on my way out on a surveillance job.’
‘What time will you be doing that until?’
‘Hard to say. Probably about nine,’ he replied.
‘Okay. Okay. Well how about this for an idea? I’ll go pick up some food, something simple like pasta and go around to your house. We’ll be eating by, say, nine thirty.’
‘It’s great for me, ann rea, but probably not your idea of fun.’
‘Oh, you leave me to worry about the fun, but I wouldn’t count on too much sleep tonight. You get the wine. See you at nine-ish,’ ann rea said and Kennedy could hear she was wearing a grin.
Twenty minutes later, as arranged earlier in the day on the phone, Staff Nurse Rose Butler was knocking on the door of Dr Ranjee Shareef’s grand house on Ulster Terrace. She’d told Kennedy that after she’d called Ranjesus earlier she went to the toilet and was physically sick.
During the call she had claimed to the doctor that she had proof, definite proof, as to what the doctor had done, or failed to do, with Sinead Sullivan. She further advised him that he had only one chance to do something about it before she went to the police and the hospital authorities. She was implying, but not suggesting, a bribe. A fact, Kennedy assessed, which could later be denied should Ranjesus and his lawyers claim entrapment. Rose could claim she just wanted to hear his side of the story before going to the police. However, should Dr Shareef offer Rose Butler a bribe then that would be a different matter entirely, wouldn’t it.
‘Okay, I’m just about to ring the doorbell,’ Rose Butler said nervously. She stole one final glance behind her, and Irvine flashed the car’s headlights quickly to reassure Rose she’d been heard loud and clear.
As she rang the doorbell, Kennedy, Irvine and Coles could hear her whisper, ‘Good Jesus, I can’t believe I’m doing this.’
A beam of rich cream light spilled out of the hallway as the door opened and Kennedy immediately recognised the doctor. He could hear the doctor’s clipped tones via Rose’s microphone saying, ‘Oh yes, Nurse Butler, I’ve been expecting you. Please come through to my study.’
‘Who else is in the house?’ Rose asked.
‘No one but us, Nurse Butler. It’s the staff’s night off and my wife has taken the children to stay with her mother for a few days.’
The police could hear the creak of the front door as it closed, then footsteps.
‘Please sit there, if you don’t mind,’ Ranjesus instructed Rose. ‘Okay. Shall we get on with this? I have a limited amount of time I can give you.’
‘I know what you did to poor Sinead Sullivan,’ Rose began nervously.
‘Fathered another Irish bastard, is that what you mean? I don’t think we can be too sure about that, Nurse Butler. I’ve been hearing she was the hospital bike – and not a very good one at that.’ The doctor laughed at his own crude joke.
‘May God forgive you, doctor. No, I don’t mean that, Dr Shareef. If that were true I’d be happier. And please, do not speak disrespectfully of her. I knew her very well and I knew exactly what she was. A good, honest girl whose only flaw, as far as I can see, was that she fell for a prick like you.’
‘Fifteen-love, Rose to serve,’ Irvine said proudly from the driver’s seat in the police car, only about twenty yards away from where the nurse and the doctor were sitting.
‘Charming tongues you Irish ladies have,’ Shareef said.
‘Better to have charming tongues than ten bellies. But look, let’s not waste time sitting here insulting each other. Let’s get back to Sinead. I know you got her pregnant. I know you helped her have an abortion. I know you got her pregnant again but this time you told her you would take care of her. I know you used hospital time and equipment to monitor her. I know you discovered that she was suffering from placenta praevia. I know you failed to give her treatment for this condition. I know that because you failed to treat her condition she haemorrhaged and bled to death.’
‘Okay,’ Kennedy whispered out in the car, ‘this is it. Over to you, Doctor bloody Ranjesus.’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘And you know all of this for a fact, do you?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘And how would you know this?’
‘I know it!’ Rose answered firmly.
‘What? You were in bed with us when I supposedly shagged Sullivan? You were with her when she discovered she was pregnant? You w
ere with us when I supposedly was monitoring her? You were there looking over my shoulder when I discovered she had placenta praevia? You were there in my mind when I, supposedly, made the decision not to treat her condition?’
‘That’s not what I’m saying,’ Rose began to falter. She had nothing in reserve for the ace Shareef had just served.
‘What exactly are you saying?’ again Shareef, this time very aggressively.
‘I’m saying you murdered Sinead and her little baby. I’m—’
‘Oh come, come Nurse, we’ve been through all of that. I’m asking you to give me one little bit of evidence. I’m asking you to give me one little fact which would prevent the police and the hospital authorities from throwing you out of their offices the way I’m going to throw you out of my house.’
By now the doctor was shouting at the nurse. Kennedy and Irvine knew that Rose Butler was not up to this. Shareef had just been playing with her to see exactly what she knew. Which was, sadly, nothing more than a hunch.
‘He won’t harm her will he?’ Coles asked from the back seat.
‘Not physically, no. He wouldn’t be so stupid. But he can hurt her mentally. Look, let’s get her out of there. No more good can be served by this. James, he doesn’t know you. Go and knock on the door, say you’re a minicab for Butler or something. Quickly, man.’
‘Your little Irish princess,’ continued the doctor, ‘do you want me to tell you exactly what she got up to in bed? Shall I tell you exactly what she did to me, shall I tell you exactly what I did to her? Yes, that’s probably going to be more interesting to you, isn’t it? Let’s see now, first I…’
The doorbell rang. Coles and Kennedy heard footsteps, a door opening, footsteps, another door opening and then the familiar voice of Irvine stating loudly, ‘Minicab for Butler.’
The doctor said something too quietly for Coles and Kennedy to hear, but it must have been something along the lines of, ‘She’ll be out in a minute’ because they heard Irvine say, loudly again, ‘Sorry mate, can’t wait. She’s got an important appointment I’ve been told to get her to and I’m running a bit late.’
At this point, Rose, on hearing Irvine’s reassuring tones, ran into the hallway. The closeness of her microphone to the doctor and Irvine put the conversation back on track for Kennedy and Coles.
‘Ah, Miss Butler? Minicab for the Royal Free.’
‘Yes, yes. Thank you.’
‘Why miss, you’re crying. This chap hasn’t been bothering you, has he?’
‘Get out of my house, you…’ the doctor stuttered trying to find a correct word to describe the best-dressed minicab driver he’d ever seen.
‘Are you okay, miss? I must admit, he does look like a bit of a pervert,’ Irvine said quickly.
‘And what if she wasn’t? What if she wasn’t okay? What would you intend to do? Hit me? Surely you wouldn’t hit a man with glasses.’ The doctor laughed.
‘No sir, I’d never hit a man with glasses, I’d use my fecking fist.’
‘Get out of my house. Get out of my house now. Both of you. This is obviously some charade, some elaborate set-up. Dreamed up, I wouldn’t be surprised, by Kennedy. Get out here, both of you, before I call…’ Shareef stopped suddenly, he was about to say police.
Back in the car, Coles moved to the front seat and Irvine comforted Rose Butler in the back.
‘It’s no good. I let him get away. It’s my fault. I messed up. You’re never going to get him now. He’s going to get off with it,’ Rose blurted out and started weeping.
‘I wouldn’t concern yourself, Rose, about us getting Dr Shareef. Someone as evil as him will cross our paths again and next time we’ll be ready for him,’ Kennedy said. He’d always worked on the rule, don’t get mad, get even. And now, Kennedy was as mad as he could ever remember being.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
‘Don’t come, Christy!’
‘What?’
‘Don’t come. I can tell from your heartbeat that you’re about to come.’
ann rea and Kennedy were lying amongst each other in the early hours of the following morning.
‘This is so gorgeous. I want it to last forever,’ ann rea said breathlessly.
The only thing about coming, as Kennedy’s Butterfly Technique advised him, was that you tended to be forever trying not to come at the wrong time, as opposed to coming, at the right time that is. But then, if you held on for her, gasping greedily for extra oxygen, for her sighing, for her moaning, for her groans of ecstasy, for her blissful climax – if you dared to tune into her earthy sounds for just a split second then you were lost – and if you managed to hold on for her and she fell on you breathing heavily, then you felt guilty about continuing when she had finished.
The Butterfly Technique had taught Kennedy that enjoyment should come from being together and prolonging that magic moment, slipping in and out of the build-up, at the same time pushing it further and further away. Kennedy was relatively new to the technique and still had a lot to learn. He distracted himself from the inevitable by thinking about other things. This morning, for instance, other things like the death of KP. Oops, he thought, that’ll do it for you. That’ll lose it forever.
He decided to think about something more pleasant, like how beautiful ann rea was there rising and falling above him. Those beautifully-shaped eyes closed so she could concentrate on her thoughts undistracted. Her hair was wet with the sweat of her endeavours. Sometimes she seemed to be having such a brilliant time he wondered who she was with. Where did she go to at these times?
Sure, she whispered words of encouragement and support, and always used his Christian name, but at those moments he knew she was lost, lost in her own world. In her enthusiasm for the euphoria she was experiencing she was more desirable than ever, more desirable than anyone Kennedy had ever known. Such thoughts were speeding up the process too much. He thought about Coles, she slipped quietly into his mind from nowhere and without invitation. No, that wasn’t a good idea either. But before he’d had a chance to recover, ann rea signed, sensually and loudly, and flopped on top of him, their sweat mixing. She convulsed gently in inner pulling waves. The waves were not so gentle that they did not cause enough movement to take Kennedy over the edge. He watched the butterfly float happily, and contentedly, away.
Perhaps ann rea was correct with her new approach to their relationship. Their love-making was so sweet and getting better. Was there need for anything else? They were true to each other. They enjoyed each other’s company. They gave each other the space required. No one was getting hurt. Was there anything else, Kennedy wondered, as he lay there in her arms.
Kennedy felt, considering the magic moment they had just shared together, that the feelings she had for him must be as deep as his feelings for her. But was that it? Was that what it was all about? To find someone who would not be bad to you and would allow you to share such exquisite intimate pleasures with them?
Was that what ann rea had discovered? Was that why she was in her new upbeat mood? Had she resolved this “being in love” thing? He couldn’t believe that there could be more between two people than what they were experiencing together. Did they need to formalise it all? Move in together, officially become a couple? Did he need to marry this person, to convince himself or anyone else for that matter, that this was the best there could be? And, because of that, there was no need to go chasing any more. No need at all to go chasing any more and risk losing what he had with this wonderful, special woman who someone had sent along to meet him.
‘Thank you, thank you, thank you, whoever you are,’ Christy Kennedy whispered as he fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Kennedy started off the morning in his office updating his noticeboard. He focused on the scraps of paper found in KP’s pockets. He was particularly transfixed by the words written inside the heart.
McGee!
L
Wilko
L
?
/OL>WILKO? C? COL? Colette?
‘Very possible,’ Kennedy said aloud to his noticeboard. Colette had already admitted that she wasn’t in love with Sean. Could Wilko still be in love with Colette Green, the mother of his child? Tracey and Susan had already lost him.
Kennedy’s eyes returned to KP’s note. Who was the prat? And why was there a star beside the name? It was somewhere inside those scribbles, the answer to this. The answer that killed him.
‘Come on, Christy…’ he coaxed himself. ‘It’s in there, waiting for you.’
‘I’m off to the canteen, sir.’ Coles entered Kennedy’s office, followed by Irvine. ‘Would you like some tea?’
‘No, thanks,’ Kennedy replied, a little distractedly. ‘I was just about to make some here. You’re welcome to join me.’
‘No, thank you, sir. I’m a little peckish as well, I need to get some food.’ Coles turned to Irvine. ‘And yourself?’
‘Yes, please,’ Irvine replied enthusiastically. ‘I’d love a cup of tea. And a bacon buttie, well-cooked. Bacon, no fat, brown bread. A KitKat and—’
‘God, Irvine,’ Coles cut in. ‘What did your last servant die of?’
‘Disobedience!’ Irvine shot back, laughing.
After Coles left, Kennedy prepared his tea and turned to Irvine.
‘How was Rose after you dropped me off?’
‘Ah, upset, but she’s a canny lass, sir. She won’t let this get on top of her, believe me. She accepts that Shareef got away with it, but she said she’s going to watch him like a hawk from here on.’
‘Good,’ Kennedy said. ‘Good on her.’
‘Actually, she wanted me to thank you for her. She was afraid she hadn’t thanked you properly for trying. I told her you knew she appreciated the effort.’
