Cut You Dead (Dr. Samantha Willerby Mystery #4) - A J Waines Page 0,85
friendly with woman one, has sex for a while, gets bored, then brings woman two into the mix. He sets up the threesome which involves sadistic acts, beatings, bondage – but only to woman one, then he drops her. Woman two usually disappears too – they’re often scared and no longer interested. Ha – I wonder why? If she doesn’t scarper, he finds another woman.’
‘Don’t any of them report him?’
‘Ralph told me no one had. Not one. That was his prime defence. But maybe he has been accused. That’s where you come in. I need to see if there could be links between Ralph Stone and Lorna, Charlotte or Hazel.’
‘Hmm… Lorna and now Ralph – two ex-patients coming to light in a matter of days. Bit odd, isn’t it?’
‘Not when you consider that I see around twenty-five patients every week and some only come for a couple of sessions. It’s not surprising they crop up from time to time.’
‘I keep forgetting how long you’ve been in this business,’ he said, his tone laden with sarcasm.
‘Are you going to do something about this or not?’
‘Okay, okay. It’s worth looking into and I’ll try to keep your name out of it.’
After my shower, I sat on the bed with Lorna’s final tape next to me. I should have listened to it sooner, whether I felt up to it or not. It could be too useful to put off any longer.
I slipped the cassette into the machine, then hovered over the button without pressing it. Maybe I should do it later and prime myself first with a brandy.
No. It could hold vital information that could lead to her killer. I needed to do it for Lorna. I pressed the play button and closed my eyes.
As I let Lorna’s words fill the space around me, it didn’t take long for my tears to bubble up to the surface. She was swept up in the glamour of the fashion show the college had organised, chattering on about the music, the posters, the dresses. She was in high spirits, looking forward to it. In many ways it was harder to bear than if she’d been upset.
‘You helped me see how many positive things there are in my life,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
Hearing those words was heart-wrenchingly poignant, knowing how little time she had left.
Then Lorna went quiet. I strained to hear, not wanting to miss anything.
‘I’ve got a bit of a secret,’ she said in a whisper. I could visualise her playing with the locket that was always around her neck. ‘I’ve met this guy. He’s been helping me a lot with the show.’
‘Ah, you like him?’
‘Yeah. He’s twenty. And cute. We’re sort of going out, but he’s very shy and not much has happened yet.’ She stopped. ‘Silly to bring it up really. I haven’t told anyone else, but I thought if I mentioned it here, you could kind of look after the secret for me, now our sessions have finished.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Telling you about him makes him real. It takes him and me beyond just something in my head. Does that sound stupid?’
‘Not at all. I feel very privileged. I’ll look after your secret for you with pleasure.’
I heard the chair creak. She must have got up to leave. ‘I’d better tell you his name,’ she said, laughter in her voice.
‘If you want to.’
‘It’s Chris.’
63
I stopped the tape with a shudder.
Chris…
It couldn’t be, could it?
Hurriedly, I did the maths. Pitlock’s date of birth indicated he’d recently turned thirty. It fitted.
Police had discounted him for Charlotte’s demise on the basis of the estimated time of death, but it was only an estimate. The time frame was between nine in the evening and three thirty in the morning. It seemed pretty open-ended. What if the pathologists were mistaken by just half an hour? Chris could have found a way to get to Primrose Hill in that time. And what if he had also known Lorna?
I toyed with this new potential piece of the puzzle, but knew it wouldn’t be enough for Fenway. How many twenty-year-olds called Chris were there in London, at any given time? Thousands. I could hear Fenway’s annoying voice in my head: You see my point…
I slept on it, thinking my nocturnal subconscious might help me make a decision about what to do next, but I still had no idea once morning broke. By then, Fenway had left a message: