The Operator (Bruce and Bennett Crime Thriller 2) (14 page)

Before she left, she said, ‘You know, Erica, I
feel better having talked about it. Hearing he was dead, murdered, I was glad,
but then I felt revolted. How could I let him make me into someone like him?
But all the same, I hope they don’t catch whoever did it. Who knows what he did
to them? Anyway, no doubt the police are hearing nothing but how wonderful he
was. Nobody’s going to hand them a motive on a plate. But if you have any
doubts about my guilt or innocence, bear in mind I needn’t have told you any of
this.’

After Laura left, Erica made notes for her
article, musing on what she was learning about Kingston. His murder was a hate
crime, she was sure of it. The kind of impotent hate which builds up until even
just killing isn’t enough. She was building up a picture of a man who enjoyed
power, couldn’t tolerate anyone who questioned his authority. He enjoyed using
his skill on the helpless victims on the table, revelling in their respect and
gratitude, in the status he had in the hospital, the entourage of nurses and
students following him around. But anyone who questioned his actions and
attitudes saw a different side to him. A violent sadist, a clever one who could
control his sadism. He could use it when he was safe from the consequences.
Just the kind of person who would invite this kind of murder.

She couldn’t help sympathising with all those who’d
suffered at his hands, literally, but any of them might have killed him. There
might be scores of them. Could Laura Gibson have killed him? She certainly
hated him enough. But would she have come here and flagged herself up as a
suspect? And damn it, Erica liked her!

‘You can’t just cross people off the suspect list
because you like them. Maybe you like them
because
they’re victims -
because you feel you can help them, that they need you,’ she berated herself
aloud. So, that’s Laura Gibson and other patients he hurt, Jamie the cute
Chinese doctor he humiliated, and oh, the hoodies behind Kingston’s house. Must
go for a nighttime jog along there soon.’

She was supposed to be investigating Kingston, not
the murder. Who was she, Miss Marple? No, more of a V I Warshawski, with Philip
Marlowe’s dialogue, given the choice. And Tessa was relying on her.

She heard Rina’s door open.

‘Wey that was canny intrest’n.’ Stacey Reed
emerged and walked into Erica’s room, phone in one hand, wineglass held aloft
in the other.

‘Stacey, you haven’t been listening in! That was a
confidential consultation, Jeez! And you’ve no right to be in Rina’s room.’

‘Aa’m using it as a tempry office like. As yer
intern ye knaa. And that reminds iz, ye need more biscuits in there, but better
ones, with chocolate on.’ She looked at Erica’s rice cakes. ‘Jeez, them things
are beer mats, not breakfast! Anyway, if that Rina lass keeps a wineglass in er
room, boozin at work, disgustin, you’ve only yerself to blame if it gets used
agin the wall.’

‘Stacey, this is serious. I could lose my job.
Both my jobs!’

‘Erica man, yer clueless. Aa’ve got ye by the
Brazilian, and ye admit it! Well Aa’ll not ask for dosh to keep quiet. Ye’ve
got nowt worth mentioning.’

‘Wow, thanks.’

‘In fact aal I want is to work for nowt as yer
intern. Can’t say fairer. Safer for ye and aal. If Aa’m working for ye, Aa
cannit tell anybody what Aa hear. Saw that on a Tom Cruise fillum about lawyers
so it must be true. Lerriz help ye!’

‘But what can you do? Apart from keep us up to
date with office biscuit needs.’

‘Wey ye said sommat aboot joggin and hoodies. Aa
can be yer bodyguard like! Little lass like ye, ye cannit gan roond in the
dark by yersel, them lads is rough ye knaa.’

‘Bollocks Stacey, I’ve spent my entire adult life
not to mention underage drinking life wandering around at all hours in the dark
and in hardly any clothes, I’m not as defenceless as you seem to think.’

‘Worreva. Ye’ve nee choice. Aa’m comin with ye
when ye gan after them lads or Aa dob ye in with what I hord through the waal.
Like it or lump it.’

Erica was weakening. It would be good to have
company, even Stacey, and after all... as if reading her mind, Stacey played
her trump guilt card.

‘Ye owe iz, and ye knaa it man!’

‘You mean, because I saved you from giving birth
unconscious in a filthy alley?’

‘Think of me bairn, little Noosh. A child of
disadvantage.’

‘Oh well... But don’t fuck up!’

‘Langwidge in the workplace, Erica! Eee mind, that
Kingston was a right fkn bastard wasn’ee? Had it fkn coming, man. Aa can kinda see
why that Laura wifie didn’t clock him one, hor bein in hospital an aal, but
that Tessa, wadda fkn wuss! Minit he laid hands on her she should’ve taken him
to the fkn cleaners for spousal abuse, assault, the works. After operatin on
his bollocks forst like.
That’s
where she should’ve hammered the spikes
in.’

‘Stacey, I’m trying to prove Tessa’s innocence
here, get with the programme. And don’t say anything like that in front of Will
Bennett or he’ll have you under the hot lights before you can say ‘Bacardi
Breezer.’’

‘Fuck him. Oh yer did didn’t yer!’ Stacey was
already making sure Erica’s sim card had her number on it, grabbing her phone
from the desk. ‘Aa’ll caal ye. Gotta go see aboot summat.’

She dropped the phone on the desk, and walked off,
absent-mindedly putting the wineglass in her handbag. She was thinking, she’d
have some calls to make elsewhere before seeing the lads with Erica in tow.
There was stuff she didn’t want coming out. Having a bliddy job was more bother
than it was worth.

Will Bennett was thinking
it over again. The murderer’s chosen method. He called the team together to
thrash it out. The more he thought about it, the more circular the logic
seemed.

‘Right. This is what we’ve got. Stone, nails,
mutilation. Let’s not get bogged down in symbolic meanings just for now. What
else does the murder method tell us?’

‘Hatred Guv.’ Sally at a nod from Will wrote it
down on the whiteboard. ‘Real hatred. Not just wanting him dead. Sadistic,
even.’

‘OK, that makes sense. But what’s wrong with that
scenario? What does a sadist do? What’s their whole erm, driving force?’

‘Making folks suffer,’ suggested Paul.

‘Exactly. So what about this crime doesn’t fit?’

‘He was knocked unconscious first, rather than
tied up or something.’ Hassan added a note, taking the pen from Sally.

‘You see? That much hatred, that much mutilation,
yet they whacked him on the head first. What does that suggest to you?’

‘That he was too big, strong and fit to overpower?’
Sally said.

‘Yes. You see, we’ve been thinking could this be a
woman’s crime, is it possible, and in fact the very nature of it suggests it
could be. A woman might be able, if she took him by surprise, to hit him with a
rock. She’d have a hard job overpowering him and tying him up if he was
conscious.’

‘Unless it was a sex game,’ put in Paul. Then
blushed. ‘I’ve er read things...’

Will ignored this. ‘So that suggests the ex-wife
Tessa, doesn’t it? All that about going to the house in the afternoon, to
explain any forensic traces... though Sally did check, and a neighbour did see
Tessa in a car with a woman, possibly Tara, outside Kingston’s about mid
afternoon, and the car was gone by the time she walked past there on the way to
pick up her kids from primary school. Nobody saw the car at night.’

‘Tessa doesn’t seem bright enough for that sort of
clever plotting.’ Sally objected.

‘Maybe not, but her sister is. Maybe they’re in it
together. Alibi’ing each other. Soliciting for each other. Erm well you know
what I mean.’

‘Right Paul.’ Hassan made a note. ‘We better
consider the neighbours too, though they don’t seem murderous, but you never
know.’

‘He might’ve forgot to return somebody’s lawn
mower or summat.’ Paul tried to lighten the moment, and failed.

Hassan kept writing. ‘And add to that, that there
was no break in. She could have gone back later. OK, nobody saw the car but
that doesn’t rule it out.’

‘Tessa claims to have no key, since Kingston
changed the locks though Sarge.’ Kev tried to show he was awake.

Hassan batted this aside. ‘It could’ve been him
who left the front door unlocked. Or she could’ve nicked a spare key when she
and Tara were at the house. Or he’d have opened the door to her, surely, if she
claimed to have come back begging for another chance.’

Will carried on. ‘So, who would be likely to hate
Kingston enough to kill him, and to kill him like that? Apart from the obvious
ex.’

‘Dissatisfied patients, got duff treatment or
thought they had.’

‘Right, Sally.’ Will began to collect a list of
suspects, or suspect categories.

‘Guv, that might fit with the head injury as well.
Someone he’d treated might be erm, disabled or physically disadvantaged in some
way. Unable to take him on without knocking him down first.’ Sally’s elfin face
was alight, she loved this stuff thought Paul, bloody teacher’s pet.

‘Yes that’s true. Not that we’ve been able to find
anyone who’d complained against him. Though there might be plenty who’d like to
but haven’t for some reason.’ Frustrated rather than pleased by the multiplying
list of suspects, Will raised a hand to his hair but remembered just in time.

‘Somebody at work he’d cheesed off somehow?’
Hassan said. ‘Not that we’ve been able to get any dirt on him from other docs
or hospital staff. They’re all singing his praises from the same hymn sheet.’

‘Yes definitely a possibility,’ said Will. ‘But
have you noticed, there’s been no real warmth, no real sorrow for him as a man,
as a friend. Just shock at the horror of it, and respect, and praise for him as
a surgeon. The usual closing of ranks. Like if one of us got taken out, someone
unpopular, you can imagine the same thing...’

Everyone but Will had the same thought - is the DI
thinking wistfully of Golden Boy George speared with a pitchfork or suffocated
in fertiliser?

‘The lads who’ve been hanging around behind the
houses causing a nuisance. Scotty and mates. Residents have been chasing them
off for weeks. Mebbe they got sick of it and struck back,’ Paul suggested.

‘We have to put ‘the lads’ on the list.’ Will did
so. ‘But they’d have to be high on drugs to go that far. If they were high, and
drunk, and aggressive, and provoked, they might give him a kicking, even kill
him, but all that careful mutilation? That doesn’t sound like a chaotic mob.’

 ‘They’re just kids,’ said Hassan. His wife worked
with lads like these. ‘Even though they are a right pain and commit crimes like
theft and possession and so on, and yes OK, if they suddenly got a mob
mentality taking them over they might go off on one. But let’s not forget the
crime scene. The use of those nitrile gloves, plastic aprons, such care not to
leave traces. Not exactly what you’d expect of a drug-crazed mob.’

‘No you’re right. However, they’re not all that
daft. You never know, one of them might be a clever sadist in the making.’

‘Guv, some crims torture folks to get their PIN
numbers from them,’ suggested Paul.

‘Actually that’s a good point,’ mused Will. ‘He’d
be unconscious, brain damaged, but perhaps he came to, briefly? Brain injuries
can be hard to predict. They might’ve thought it worth a try, not realising how
bad his injuries were.’

Paul looked triumphantly at Sally. ‘I read about
this bloke, he shot himself in the head with a shotgun and then walked away,
left most of his brains all over the inside of a bus shelter, didn’t collapse
until he was back home.’

‘A clever sadist among the lads might be worth
following up. Also this case is getting nationwide publicity, somebody might be
enjoying their fifteen minutes of fame.’

Both Will and Hassan were thinking of their
interview with Scotty and his mum, uneducated, ignorant even, but not stupid.

‘Guv,’ Sally had been thinking. ‘There may be a
family member after Kingston’s dosh. Or a girlfriend. He might’ve been boffing
the nurses.’

‘Be a waste not to,’ muttered Paul, dodging Sally’s
kick.

‘Anyway we’ve got this list and we’ll just have to
keep asking questions, at the hospital, in the street, and hope people will
talk to us about Kingston.’

Hassan sounded madly optimistic even to himself.

At home, Erica poured
herself a glass of Chateau Neuf du Pape and listed her suspects in a new Word
document.

Tessa/Beccy, abused wife. Laura G’s story backs up
Tessa’s about K’s abuse. Independent testimony that K got his jollies dishing
out pain & getting away with it/ being rewarded for it. Gives Tessa v
strong motive, but OTOH too scared to take him on?

Jamie Lau, humiliated trainee doc + all other
students K probs treated the same.

Laura Gibson? + others with similar stories, not
come forward. Wd she tell abt her motive if guilty? Risky. Disabled so poss
probs handling him dead or alive. Accomplice?

Hoodies in drinking den. Robbery gone wrong? Drug
fuelled attack after he caught them vandalising?

And who else? Could she
really find anything out when the police had all the expertise and personnel?
On the other hand, who would confide in the police if it made them a murder
suspect? No-one with any sense. Picturing herself running along the edge of the
golf course, Erica remembered she hadn’t yet followed up the Wydsand Golf Club,
or the church, in delving into Kingston’s life. But would Kingston have
ill-treated the kind of influential people he liked to impress, who brought
business his way or cemented his status?

All in all, with suspects and sources multiplying
madly on every side, she was running out of time and avenues she could
legitimately explore before she had to submit her article on Kingston.