by Lin Anderson
‘That’s what I’m trying to find out.’
Rhona leaned back, feeling queasy. Petersson moved to sit beside her.
‘Are you OK?’
She shut her eyes, willing her stomach to stop churning. ‘So what do we do?’
‘You locate the post-mortem report, if there is one. Speak to the hospital staff. Use any excuse. Check with the mortuary. Find out who was on duty that night, who drove the ambulance. Use your position, tell them it’s about forensic evidence in a case against McNab’s killers. Say whatever is necessary to get to the truth.’
‘But why would Slater be a part of this?’
‘If he’s crooked, he’s covering his own tracks in some way. He released Kalinin that night, remember? Or maybe the opposite is true and he hid the fact McNab was alive so they could bring him out later to testify. If Kalinin believed him dead, he would give up pursuing him. It’s not the first time SOCA have hidden a witness that way, and for that reason.’
‘SOCA couldn’t hide McNab without help from Scotland. Superintendent Sutherland was in overall charge, he had to have known.’
‘That’s what we’re going to find out.’
She looked at his strong, determined jaw, the ice-blue eyes.
‘Why are you doing this?’
‘I told you already. We want the same thing.’
When Petersson left, she crawled back under the duvet, but the chill generated by his words would not dissipate.
That was the problem. Petersson’s argument made a kind of sense, although she couldn’t let herself begin to believe it.
But what if it was true and McNab was alive?
One thing was certain. Now that Petersson had planted a doubt, she would have to find out.
Petersson strode away from Rhona’s apartment building. He was convinced that she hadn’t known or even suspected that the policeman’s death might have been a cover-up. Her shock had seemed entirely genuine. Now that the possibility had been presented, she would pursue it, probably without regard to the consequences. If, as he suspected, McNab was in hiding, she was his best chance of finding him.
It was, he thought with satisfaction, the outcome he had hoped for.
27
Magnus thought he had isolated all the Greek phrases from Kira’s notebook, although he couldn’t be entirely sure. Some had been hidden in calculations and others had been written backwards, which had confused him until he’d fetched a hand mirror.
He had eleven separate words or phrases. Now he set about deciphering them, using the method that had provided him with ‘It begins’.
There were twenty-four letters of the Greek alphabet, corresponding for the most part to a single letter of the Roman alphabet. He studied the table he’d printed out.
His method of transcription was simplistic and didn’t take into account all the Romanised forms. It also involved making guesses at the letter ‘h’, which apparently could be represented by a tiny, apostrophe-shaped mark. Despite this, his method did seem to be giving him a result.
The second entry on the diary had appeared one page further on. It was embedded inside a set of parentheses, split in four by plus signs as though representing a calculation.
Ignoring the plus signs, he wrote down the string of symbols and consulted his table.
He muttered to himself as he wrote down their Roman equivalents, leaving a space for the letter he wasn’t sure of. ‘Delta, iota . . . not sure, nu, upsilon, sigma, omicron, and another version of sigma.’ It spelt . . .
He said it aloud, in case it rang a bell, then realised what the third symbol might be.
‘Omega! So another letter “o” . . . and upsilon can be a ‘y’. Dionysos.’
Magnus went online and looked the name up. Dionysos was easy enough to find. As the son of the Greek god Zeus, he was the god of wine – among other things – and had inspired a religion. His female worshippers, known as the Maenads, were said to be inspired by him into a state of ecstatic frenzy, through a combination of dancing and drunken intoxication. Apparently they lost all self-control during this state and engaged in uncontrolled sexual behaviour.
He thought of Melanie and her pregnancy, apparently the result of just such a drunken party. There were eleven other phrases to translate. What else would they tell him about Kira and the life she had led in the run-up to her death?
He closed the notebook and set it to one side. Kira’s scribblings would have to wait. It was late and he wanted to look over some material before his next meeting with Coulter. He’d been correct in his assumption that an interview would be easier to arrange if DI Wilson requested it. They were due to meet Coulter at nine thirty the following morning.
He retrieved the box file from the shelf and opened it. Immediately he caught Coulter’s scent again and wondered if the smell of cologne and sweat would ever leave the well-thumbed pages.
He leafed through until he found the paragraph he sought. In the context of the current investigation, it had a certain resonance.
I can make them do what I wont becos they worship me and I can make them pregnant
Coulter’s grandiose assessment of his power over women was at least partly accurate, if the story of his nine offspring was true. His current prison correspondence also suggested certain women were drawn to him, possibly increasingly so since his work on the dolls had become public.
Magnus had found Coulter manipulative, powerfully so. But he had to admit that he had played the role of reformed character well, particularly during their time together in the workshop. He could imagine the man making a strong impression on women using that act.
He recalled Dr Shan’s guardedness when discussing her patient. Had Coulter managed to manipulate Dr Shan’s thought processes the way he’d done with other women? If he had, it might account for the doctor’s displeasure at Magnus’s appearance on the scene. Maybe she wanted to keep the study of Coulter to herself.
Those sent by the courts to a State Hospital were rarely released, and medication was used to keep symptoms of their mental illness at bay. Patients who had turned their lives around and now contributed in some way to society were few and far between.
If Coulter had proved to be such an exception, then there was cause for celebration. A visible success for Dr Shan.
If Coulter had reformed.
It all came down to your understanding of the concept of evil. From what Magnus had read and seen, he was inclined towards the view that true psychopathy was innate and could never be reversed. If Coulter had been mentally ill at the time of the murder and had been treated for it, then he was a success. If, on the other hand, he was a psychopath, then he was reflecting back what he knew Dr Shan wanted to see, and taking pleasure from his manipulation of her. Magnus believed the latter to be the case.
A flurry of rain splattered the windscreen, and Bill flipped on the wipers.
‘The tech boys are of the opinion the video is of a doll, not a live baby,’ he said. ‘They say the flicker we saw was caused by the camera moving. Also, DS Clark has spoken to the other members of the Daisy Chain. Their stories are all the same. Too much to drink at a party, had sex, got pregnant.’
‘Pretty high hit rate.’
‘I suspect we’re talking about more than one try. Despite what they all say, I think there was a pact, probably instigated by Kira.’
They lapsed into silence. Ten minutes later, the bulk of the State Hospital came into view. Their admittance was swift, and this time they didn’t need to wait for Dr Shan to escort them; the receptionist took one look at Bill’s ID and let them through immediately.
Dr Shan was waiting for them on the other side of security, looking, Magnus thought, as composed as ever. He had picked up the scent of roses before they spotted her. She acknowledged his smile before greeting Bill.
‘Detective Inspector Wilson, I presume.’
‘Dr Shan. Thank you for arranging the meeting so quickly. I assume you haven’t told Coulter what it’s about?’
>
She shook her head. ‘I only mentioned Professor Pirie’s visit. Mr Coulter knows nothing about you accompanying him.’
‘Good.’
‘If you’ll come this way please.’
They went back down the corridor – the smell of disinfectant overwhelming – to the interview room Magnus had used on his previous visit. A few minutes later Coulter arrived, accompanied as before by a pair of male orderlies. He paused at the door, registering Bill’s presence. Magnus thought he saw pleasure cross Coulter’s face, but it resumed a neutral expression as he took a seat opposite them at the table and waited for an introduction.
‘Mr Coulter, I’m Detective Inspector Wilson. I’d like to ask you a few questions.’
As before, the air about Coulter seemed to buzz with energy. Magnus wondered if Bill was picking up on it too.
‘What about?’
‘Your dolls.’
Coulter gave a sly smile. ‘You want to buy one, Detective Inspector?’
Bill ignored the question. ‘I understand you make them to order?’
Coulter nodded.
‘Would you recognise a doll you’d made?’
‘They’re my babies. Of course I would recognise them.’
Bill took a photograph from the envelope he carried and slid it across the desk. Magnus was surprised to note it didn’t feature the doll from the park.
Coulter swiftly glanced at the picture.
‘I never made that.’
‘What about this one?’ Bill pushed another photograph forward.
Coulter made an exasperated noise. ‘These are crap, production line stuff. Mine are special.’
A third photo was pushed across the table.
This time Coulter’s face lit up. ‘Now you’re talking. That’s my Daisy. Beautiful, isn’t she?’ He picked up the picture and examined it closely.
‘That one is definitely yours?’
‘I’d know Daisy anywhere. See that angel’s touch. It took me forever to get that right.’ He met Bill’s eyes. ‘Anyway, I always sign my dolls so no one else can claim my work.’
‘Where do you sign them?’
‘Inside the head. The doll’s name and my initials, JC.’
Magnus was surprised that Coulter had given out the information they sought so easily. Either he knew nothing about the case or he was a very good actor.
Bill abruptly rose to his feet.
‘Thank you very much for your help, Mr Coulter.’
The man’s jaw dropped. ‘That’s it?’
‘Yes.’
Coulter’s eyes darted between Bill and Magnus. ‘Where did you find Daisy?’
‘What makes you think we found it?’
A flash of fury sparked in Coulter’s eyes, but his tone was nonchalant when he answered.
‘Daisy’s mother would have told you who made her, so you didn’t get Daisy from her.’
Coulter was no fool.
‘What was her name?’ said Bill.
‘Who?’
‘The woman who ordered the doll.’
Coulter looked like a man who was back in charge. ‘I only remember the dolls’ names.’
‘I can check with prison records to find out where it was sent.’
‘You do that, Officer.’
Magnus wondered if it was all over. Each man was silent, waiting for the other to speak. Magnus watched Coulter closely. He could sense the adrenalin surging through the man, the air around him sizzled with it.
‘Aren’t you going to ask me who I’m working on at the moment?’
‘What are you working on at the moment?’
‘Her name’s Melanie. The professor knows that. Don’t you, Professor?’
Coulter had been on the edge of his seat, desperate to say the doll’s name.
Bill indicated to the orderlies that they were ready to leave, but Magnus could see Coulter wasn’t finished. There was something else he wanted to say. If Bill knew that too, he didn’t show it, and they were at the door before Coulter succumbed.
‘I remember the woman’s name now. The one that ordered Daisy.’
They stood waiting.
Coulter looked triumphant. ‘Reese-Brandon, that was it. Mrs Reese-Brandon ordered Daisy.’
28
‘I think he has a contact on the outside,’ Magnus said.
‘I agree. And I think that contact is aware of information not known by the general public.’
‘Which means it’s someone closely connected to the case.’
They had adjourned to Dr Shan’s office after the interview. Bill had insisted on speaking to her before he left the premises. Someone had shown them there and gone in search of the doctor.
‘You interviewed him two days ago. Did he give any indication then of knowing about Kira’s death?’
Magnus thought back. ‘I didn’t know myself then. We sparred a bit verbally, then he asked if I wanted to see his workroom. He did some work on Jacob. I got the impression he was showing off. Then he mentioned that his next order was called Melanie.’
‘Did he make a point of telling you the doll’s name?’
‘Perhaps, but at the time the fact of his naming the dolls seemed abhorrent to me, so I remember it more because of that. I think he liked making me feel uncomfortable.’
‘I think Coulter knew we were here today because we’d found the doll,’ said Bill.
It was almost impossible to keep developments secret; news travelled even if it wasn’t made public, and the two boys who had found Daisy wouldn’t have been able to keep quiet about it. But Coulter was locked up. Bill had a gut feeling that Coulter had a source directly linked to the case.
‘Possibly,’ replied Magnus. ‘But remember that Coulter’s a skilled liar. He’s just as likely to have made that story up about Kira’s mother ordering the doll, particularly if he’s been following the story on the news.’
The door opened and Dr Shan came in, looking concerned.
‘The orderly said you wanted to talk to me before you left.’
‘Something Coulter said suggested he has a contact on the outside directly linked to the case we’re investigating.’
She considered that for a moment. ‘One of his former partners visits him,’ she said. ‘And as I mentioned to Professor Pirie, Mr Coulter receives a lot of mail, mainly from women. He also makes phone calls, which are allowed of course.’
‘Can you supply me with details of any visits he’s had in the last month, plus letters he’s sent and received, and any calls he’s made?’
She looked perplexed. ‘I can tell you how many letters arrive and are sent, but we don’t read our patients’ private mail. We do operate a PIN system for calls.’
‘So you know when he made them and the numbers he contacted?’
‘In theory.’ She hesitated. ‘As you’re probably aware, Detective Inspector, mobiles make their way in here, despite our best efforts.’
‘Then I’d like Coulter’s room and workshop searched for one.’
Dr Shan was growing more perplexed by the second. ‘Are you sure that’s necessary? Mr Coulter has been an exemplary patient up to now. It seems . . .’
Bill interrupted her praise. ‘Is there a record of who buys his dolls?’
‘Probably.’
‘I want to know who bought a doll called Daisy and when it was delivered. I also need to know who ordered the one he’s currently working on.’
‘But you could have asked Jeff that yourself.’
‘I would rather see the official records.’
Bill didn’t add that he was disinclined to believe anything Jeff Coulter told him.
On the way out, Bill said, ‘You’re happy to go past the Reese-Brandon house on our way back?’
‘If Kira’s mother did order the doll, we need to know,’ answered Magnus.
Forty-five minutes later they were back in the city and drawing up outside the house. The same pale yellow Volkswagen was parked in the small driveway to the right of the g
arden path. Bill hoped that meant Mrs Reese-Brandon was at home, preferably alone.
He rang the bell and saw her approach through the glass again. She hesitated long enough for Bill to think she might not open the door. When she eventually did, he realised from her expression that she thought he’d brought bad news.
‘Is it the baby?’ Her face was drained of colour.
‘No, we haven’t found it, I’m sorry. I came to speak to you about another matter.’
She led them into the same room as before, where Bill introduced Magnus and explained about his involvement in the case.
She listened, but Bill wasn’t sure she was taking much in. She just wanted to know why they were there.
‘We’ve found your daughter’s mobile phone.’
‘You have? Where?’
‘In the park, a few hundred metres from the funfair.’
She looked as though she might cry.
‘Ronald bought her that for her birthday. Kira loved that phone. He was very good to her, you know?’ She said this as though they might think otherwise.
‘Mrs Reese-Brandon, was Kira adopted?’
She looked stunned by the question. ‘How do you know that?’
‘David told us Kira overheard you and your husband discussing it.
‘Kira knew?’she cried.
‘For most of her pregnancy, I believe.’
Light dawned in her eyes. ‘That’s why she refused to give up the baby. Why she fought Ronald so hard. Before that happened, they were close.’ She gestured to the sideboard where an array of framed photographs depicted Kira at various ages, mostly with her father. ‘He used to call her his princess. After she told us she was pregnant, everything changed. It was terrible.’ She put her hands to her face. ‘I should have told her. I wanted to, but Ronald said it wasn’t necessary because I was the only mother she’d ever known.’
Bill gave her a few moments to regain her composure.
‘There’s something else.’
She looked at him, stricken.
‘Did you ever commission a life-like baby doll? They’re known as Reborns.’
