The Operator (Bruce and Bennett Crime Thriller 2)

by Valerie Laws

  On the way back to her own room, a nurse told her that Gary Thomas was hoping to visit her the next day. Who’d have thought Gary would ever see her in bed? Fate plays strange tricks. She’d be willing to bet he’d be delighted at the latest events. The girl (petite, blonde, yadda yadda) who caught the Operator. Doctors can sleep peacefully in their beds once more. Lucky them. Operator or not, Archer might still be dangerous, if he was recovering so well. Presumably he was under police guard? It was hard to feel secure, out of her safety zone, injured, and occasionally she imagined Archer getting up, walking through the corridors, like now when there was no-one about... She sighed. It was that dead time in the afternoon, after lunch and the drugs trolley, before afternoon visiting time. Hardly anyone seemed to be on duty at this time, and everything was quiet. She tried to have a nap to make up for the wakeful nights and ludicrously early mornings, but it was difficult. She tried to meditate, hoping to drift into sleep, hoping to forget the throbbing of her wrist, though it wasn’t working. Some memory was beginning to come back to her, when she heard her door opening.

  She opened her eyes, relieved to see Tessa coming in, smiling. Instantly she forgot about sleep; visitors are the breath of sanity to patients, and especially at this time of day, an unexpected treat. She’d been wondering how Tessa was getting on. She looked very pretty; she was carrying a bag, and – Erica sat up in bed.

  ‘Hi Erica. Surprise!’

  ‘Is that a nurse’s uniform you’re wearing? Or am I hallucinating… it’s great to see you!’

  Tessa hung her bag over the chair back. ‘Yes it is, and no you’re not! I’m back at work, the nursing I did before I married. Agency work. I decided, to hell with computers, this is where I belong, somewhere I can be some good to people. The pay’s not wonderful of course, but I’m not short of money now so I can, you know, give something back.’

  ‘Great!’ Erica had wondered if Tessa was going to look for another husband to live off, but that was better left unsaid. Though doing some agency nursing would give her access to a stream of rich and hopefully less sadistic surgeons...

  ‘There won’t be any elderly patients’ call buttons hidden when I’m around, or drinks left out of reach and then taken away untasted while some poor soul suffers with thirst… But that’s enough about me. What about you? I can hear you’re very croaky, and your poor arm! But you look great considering. I see you got someone to wash your hair! I’ll see if I can hunt up a dryer somewhere for you. That was wonderful what you did, jumping in to save Harry Archer. He’ll have to go to prison I suppose, or a mental institution. So the police think he killed Robert and Mr Chambers, and Mr Gupta too – or was that the other man who cut his arm off? What a tangle it all is! I’m glad I’m a nurse and not a policewoman. Anyway, I’ve brought you these.’

  She reached into her shoulder bag and brought out a couple of magazines. The kind that tell you how to do up your house so it looks like a house from a magazine, except there’s nowhere to put a skull collection or books.

  ‘And these facial wipes. They’re hypoallergenic – I know it’ll be difficult for you to really cleanse your face at night, and get all your make-up off properly. You won’t want visitors to see you without your face on!’

  ‘Er thanks.’ Faceless, Erica reached across to put them in the open-sided compartment of the locker, fumbling a bit.

  ‘Shall I do that for you?’

  ‘No it’s OK, I can manage. So what’s it like, being back here?’

  ‘Well some things are different of course. But essentially it’s the same job. All those years, I was looking for someone to look after me, and all the time, I should have been looking after others! I’ve taken control of my own life, just as you counselled me ages ago.’ Tessa looked radiant, brimming over with energy and idealism. ‘And of course, the Operator has made a difference too. No-one is quite sure it’s really old Archer, however mad and deluded he is. The doctors are all still jumpy, but it’s a good thing really. They might think twice before throwing their weight about like Robert did… So many stories coming out. Pathologist, struck off in one area, moves to another, works as a locum, makes wrong diagnoses of women’s cancer. Some die, others lose healthy breasts. He’ll have been dreading someone might do a mastectomy on him. And that other chap who injected drugs into the wrong part of a young patient’s spine, I bet he’s scared he’s on the Operator’s list. If it isn’t Archer, that is. Of course we may never know for sure. I heard he’s not likely to recover.’

  ‘Oh? I heard he’s improving. Will Bennett’s talking about getting his statement tomorrow perhaps.’

  ‘Oh, Will’s been has he? Such a shame your hair was still wet. It’s so lovely. We blondes lose half our looks with wet hair. Would you like me to brush it for you? I know you’ve got one good hand, but it’s an effort isn’t it? I could trim your fringe too…. I’ve got some scissors here in my bag. Please let me do something for you, you’ve done so much for me! You helped make me what I am today, instead of the victim I was.’

  She loosened and began to brush Erica’s long, thick damp hair, being careful not to tug any of the snarls. Erica tried to relax; she didn’t feel comfortable being this passive, but on the other hand it was soothing in a sensual way to feel the long brush strokes. She could feel soft puffs of breath on her hair and skin as Tessa stood close.

  Erica could smell her perfume, alien and exotic in the disinfected air. She moved round behind Erica as far as the bed-head would allow, and then went round to the other side, brushing with hypnotic strokes.

  ‘I hear you’ve got a doctor boyfriend. Hot, they say. But too soft hearted for a surgeon. Like that’s a bad thing!’

  Tessa took out a pair of scissors and leaned across Erica to brush her fringe down over her eyes, it really was time it was cut. She moved to kneel on the bed, at Erica’s right side, settling back to keep her balance as she began to cut with one hand, the other holding the brush. Erica felt the cold steel blades against her forehead. The cutting edge, the points, against her eyelid as they snipped. She opened her eyes as they moved, light flashing on the blades and Tessa’s ring.

  Her face was very close, the small features, the ash-blonde hair in a flatter, neater style, brushed off her face and tied back; the carefully applied make up, English rose blusher, the pearly shine of her full lips, her light blue eyes now just inches away, a slight frown puckering the soft skin between her expertly shaped eyebrows. Little drifts of cut hair winnowed down onto the sheet. Tessa dropped the scissors into her bag, then gently brushed Erica’s hair again, the length of it, all around. Time slowed down. They were close enough to kiss. Erica shifted, embarrassed by their closeness suddenly.

  ‘Let’s have a look.’ Erica reached into her locker, moving the magazines aside, bringing out her hand mirror. ‘Oh that’s great Tessa. Thanks.’

  ‘Hang on while I brush out your fringe again. It’s nearly dry. Then you can look again.’ Tessa knelt on the bed again, at Erica’s right hand side, leaning across, gazing into her eyes now in an intense way, the brush in her hand gently moving over Erica’s brow. ‘I’ve never had children, but I do love to look after people.’

  ‘Well it’s not too late.’

  ‘But...you know I can’t.’

  ‘Tessa, your husband - I think he had a vasectomy. He lied to you about your infertility. Another one of his twisted sadistic games.’

  Tessa flinched, one hand pressed to her belly. ‘No, he couldn’t have...’

  ‘So you can still have a family. Most likely.’

  ‘But how do you know?’

  ‘Listening to people. Will Bennett’s checking it out right now.’ If only he’d made the connection too. ‘But you knew that already didn’t you Tessa?’

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  ‘The post-mortem report, Kingston’s medical records, it’s in there somewhere. You went through all those reports with a fine tooth comb. I remember admiring your stoicism when Tara told me.’

  ‘Erica, do
n’t. I’ve always admired you so much. So strong, so in control. You’ve been a role model for me really. A bit of a girl-crush to be honest.’

  ‘You already knew. I could see it in your eyes, so close to mine, just a flicker before the acting kicked in. He got someone to do a cheeky little private snip for him. Wouldn’t want it known. Let me guess, Paul Chambers. Doing it behind your back, when both partners are supposed to give consent and receive counselling… Chambers probably took his word for it you were on board. Tara told me how shocked you were by Kingston’s reports, how you said, ‘I wanted to be sure he didn’t suffer too much.’ He didn’t, did he? He didn’t suffer enough.’

  ‘Erica, how can you say this to me? You’re my friend. My therapist. You’re supposed to be on my side!’

  ‘I don’t want it to be true. But I have to know. It gives you a motive to kill Chambers as well as Kingston; without that, it’s less likely that you killed your husband. With it, you might have killed both of them. Two arrogant men, making decisions about your life without consulting you…’

  ‘Erica, how can you! You know, everyone’s saying Archer confessed to you that he’d killed Robert, so...’

  ‘Archer only confessed to the catapult injuries; fracturing Kingston’s skull with the golf ball. He didn’t seem clear about the rest, odd don’t you think in a man intent on suicide. It was almost like he was worried he’d done the mutilating, the other murders even, but didn’t remember it. And if he’s a stone cold serial killer, why try to kill himself, instead of just killing me? He broke my wrist yes, but only when I tried to stop him jumping. The psychology of it’s all wrong. Shooting from a distance was much easier for Archer, but the Operator liked his killing to be up close and personal. If it wasn’t Archer, then who? Some avenging angel self-appointed to punish doctors – but why start with Kingston? Why not some more high-profile blunderer? Chambers had no public blot on his record, why him? Gupta was the first victim who had been publicly accused, falsely in fact, of negligence. No Tessa, Kingston’s death, and Chambers’, they were hate crimes, and nobody had better reason to hate them than you.’

  ‘You know my sister is a solicitor, Erica. What you are saying is libel!’

  ‘Slander actually. Go on then, sue me!’

  ‘You’re breaking my heart Erica.’ Her voice was quiet and controlled. And sad.

  ‘Oh my god! Gupta was a heart surgeon. Was he the one, Tessa? Did Kingston tell you he’d got Gupta lined up to agree you’d died of heart failure if he decided to kill you? He probably lied about that too, by all accounts Gupta was a good man, but why stop now you’d started something so powerful? You could kid yourself you were doing it for the good of society, for the family whose child died on Gupta’s table. ‘Giving something back,’ I think you just called it. You’re dying for somebody to know the Operator is still around, aren’t you? So the bad doctors keep shaking in their shoes… I bet you’re conflicted about Archer taking the blame. It would mean you’d have to stop. I bet you’ve got a database of all those negligence cases you’ve been reading about. That computer course came in useful after all…’

  ‘Look at me, Erica! Do I look like a killer?’

  ‘No. You’re a fluffy blonde, sweet as arsenic pie.’ Erica’s voice was straining to keep going. Her throat ached. Keep her talking... Archer’s life wasn’t worth a hospital sandwich if Tessa got to him before he gave his statement. If only someone would come in, but Tessa had timed her visit perfectly to hit the dead spot after lunch and before tea and visitors. The dead spot. Out of the corner of her eye, Erica saw that her phone had vanished from the locker top. Swept no doubt into Tessa’s bag with the scissors. And ironically, Tessa had quietly put her call button out of reach over the back of the bed.

  ‘I couldn’t have killed Robert. I was at Tara’s all night.’

  ‘Do I really have to spell it out, or will you tell me and save my throat? It’s just you and me here, after all. You went back to the marital home that night, after your afternoon visit with Tara. Somehow. Intent on getting in, I don’t know why. To kill him, to inherit his money before he could change his Will? At some point Kingston went out the back door to chase off the lads. Suddenly he’s flat out unconscious, whacked on the back of the head by Archer’s little golf ball, shot from his catapult, but you don’t know that, could have been the lads, he might have tripped, whatever. There he is at your feet, in your power, the man who hurt you and mocked you and destroyed your life and your self-esteem, helpless, injured but alive.

  ‘This is your chance to finish him off. You grab a rock, hit him again hard over the wound to make sure. It feels good, but it’s not enough though. The bastard still owes you.’

  Tessa licked her lips. Her breath was coming faster, a film of sweat oiled her upper lip. Their eyes were still locked, Tessa’s baby blues and Erica’s sea greens.

  ‘You drag him inside and do the rest. You’re used to barrier nursing. You’d assisted in surgery, and treated patients with Ilizarov frames. You haul him onto the table, you’re used to lifting patients, gym-fit and full of hell, you bang in the nails, his own surgical spikes, wearing nitrile gloves and protection from Robert’s desk… risky, but you’d given way to an impulse, like Archer did, but so much more hate behind it, even more than his. Then you simply left, and went back to Tara and her children, dumping the soiled aprons and gloves in a random litter bin somewhere.

  ‘And there he lies, dead, his hands nailed down, the hands that broke your arm, nails through the brain that thought up clever ways to torment you… but you’re clever too, aren’t you? Much cleverer than any of them think.’

  ‘You’re insane! Tara gave me an alibi. And as for Chambers, I was at the gym when he died, the police themselves saw me go in!’

  ‘Easy to look different, at a gym. What did you just say, we blondes lose half our looks with wet hair? You trot in all high heels and fluffed out blonde ‘do. Work out, then do a few lengths in the pool so your mates upstairs don’t know whether you’re still in the building or not, change into different clothes in a poolside locker, leave through the back, do the deed, go back in through the front door, with wet hair slicked back flat and in baggy sports gear and trainers, your whole look, even your walk would be different.’

  ‘You’ve got some of it right. How I got out of the gym without the police spotting me. Oh those blokes notice a cute blonde strutting in and out, they don’t bother to look at a dowdy, wet-haired woman in cheap sports clothes from Poundstretcher. The women in the gym didn’t know, those upstairs assumed I was in the pool and vice versa.’

  Actually hearing it from Tessa’s own lips shocked Erica more than she’d expected. Tessa moved her left knee suddenly and quickly to kneel hard on Erica’s good wrist which was lying on the bed in front of her. The other was in plaster and a lot of pain. She shifted her right leg and used her weight to pin down Erica’s legs, while her right hand held down the plastered arm. She seemed to tower over Erica suddenly looking down at her almost pityingly.

  ‘Shame you haven’t much voice to call for help, and the button’s out of reach. Yes, I’m the Operator. I had Robert helpless, dying, but I wanted more. I saw the pins on his desk, and remembered how when Robert hurt me he’d say, ‘Don’t try telling anyone. They all think I’m Jesus Christ, but you’d be the one crucified!’ His little joke. He’s not laughing now, that’s for sure! Then I found out about the vasectomy. Chambers deserved to die too. I’d gone through hell over my supposed infertility. So I went to see him. No-one’s on their guard with me, but I’m stronger than I look. Handy being a doctor’s widow, access to syringes, drugs of all kinds, sterile gloves… easy to get nice and close to a man, then whack! And his own scalpel doing its work, and his hands nailed down. No more mischief from him. It felt good, better even than Robert. I realised, I’d been able to get away with it because it was meant to be. Robert was delivered to me. It was already decided before I started. The press called me the Operator. There was work to be done, people t
o help.’

  Erica was tired, hurt, and in shock. Being right sucked. This time, for the first time, she’d much rather have been wrong.

  ‘I…’ her voice faded into a ridiculous croak.

  ‘Oh Erica, to feel that power! It’s such a rush… I am going to stay in nursing, I haven’t lied to you. I do want to help people. I’ll get to hear all the gossip about doctors. Who’s under investigation, who’s a bastard… I’m not a psychopath you know. The pleasure I feel is a reward for the work, a job well done. I did go back to Robert’s that night. Wore jogging gear. Hair covered up in a hoodie. Got a taxi from a rank to a street the other side of the golf course. Jogged over it looking like a youth. That same trick came in handy later on.’

  Erica thought of the ‘youth’ seen near Gupta’s murder.

  ‘I wanted to get into the house without Robert catching me. Oh I was a lot cleverer than you thought. I took some drugs from the house when Tara and I were there, gave some to her to make her sleep so she’d not know I went out. Then I was the lads, that night. Threw a few stones at the windows. Yelled a bit. Robert comes storming out and I hide in the bushes. Idea being, to sneak in behind him, hide in the house and leave later when I got the chance, when he was asleep or out. Big house, and I knew his routine. But I was terrified, Erica! Imagine that, terrified of him! But I just had to go back. Then suddenly, a noise, and he just fell to the ground at my feet, like magic. And my life changed just like that! But you deserve some of the credit Erica. You helped me become the woman I am. You needn’t worry. The Operator won’t hurt you.’