Maggie and Lorimer laughed together at the woman’s exaggerated accent.
‘Anyhow, when we finally brought her in she gets the once over in the cells and it turns out that she’s not a female at all.’ Divine paused for dramatic effect. ‘She’s a he!’
‘Who got the biggest surprise?’ Lorimer wanted to know.
Divine shook her head at the memory. ‘That guy was such a misogynist and there he was all dressed up fine and dandy in women’s clothing!’ Lorimer looked across at Maggie, who was still laughing. It was nice of the American woman to have chosen an innocuous story like that. The night wore on with Divine recalling things from her past. She had them alternately laughing about the crazy things she’d encountered in some police cases and sobered by others that touched on the more bizarre side of human nature. She didn’t elaborate, for Maggie’s sake, he thought, but Lorimer found himself more and more intrigued by the way certain homicides were dealt with. The physical side to apprehensions wouldn’t go down well on this side of the Atlantic, he knew, given the current legislation about human rights. But Divine seemed to relish that part of law enforcement. There was a lot more emphasis on getting results, too, he realised, remembering an item in the officer’s file; Divine Lipinski held the highest total of successful cases in her own headquarters.
‘The punishments meted out by your courts are a lot harsher than ours, aren’t they?’ Maggie observed.
Divine nodded her head but Lorimer couldn’t tell if she was agreeing with his wife or with the severity of Florida’s penal system.
The black woman raised her glass and looked at them both. ‘You guys let them off with murder, don’t you?’ The question was spoken softly and it made Lorimer feel distinctly uncomfortable. He wanted to defend his country’s legal system but at the same time a number of his past cases screamed out at him. For a moment he looked at Divine in a new light. Just why was she here? Was it really just about comparative policing methods? Or was there a political agenda somewhere that he couldn’t yet see? Lorimer wasn’t ready to be drawn into an argument about the merits or demerits of their differing legal systems. Just how much might filter back to Mitchison, for a start?
He could feel Maggie’s bare toe against his ankle, warning him off. She needn’t have worried. Divine was good company but she was still a stranger in their midst.
‘Tell me a bit about your education system,’ Maggie’s change of subject was welcome, if rather obvious.
‘You mean our high schools?’
‘Yes.’ Maggie leant forward on her elbows and Divine began a discourse on the state school system she’d experienced.
Lorimer let his mind wander as the two women discussed schools and students. it was really late now, well after one o’clock, and he had to have Divine back at HQ before nine this morning. Her body clock was probably all awry. He stifled a yawn as he let their conversation wash over him. He was vaguely aware that they were discussing scholarships of some kind when the phone rang in the hall.
‘I’ll get it,’ he was out of his seat and into the hall in three strides.
‘Lorimer,’ his voice was crisp and formal.
‘DC Cameron speaking, sir. We’ve got a big problem. I’m at the Grange near Mount Florida. It’s a clinic of some kind. There’s been an incident.’
‘One of the patients?’
‘No, sir. Nothing like that. It’s one of the nurses.’ Cameron paused. ‘Sir. It looks like she’s been murdered.’
Divine had made a move to join him but one look from Lorimer stopped her in her tracks. Besides, there was her hostess to consider.
For a moment Divine’s expression showed her sympathy for anyone fool enough to take up with a cop. Lorimer was heaving on a dark jacket as he kissed the top of his wife’s head.
‘Don’t wait up,’ he joked. Then he was gone, the pretty table and the candlelight forgotten as he closed the front door behind him.
The two women eyed each other in silence for a moment then Maggie reached for the Chardonnay. It was empty.
‘Coffee?’ she asked doubtfully, ‘or would you prefer something stronger?’
Divine flashed her a sudden conspiratorial smile. ‘Every time,’ she answered.
Chapter Eight
The big car leapt into the night and soon Lorimer was in the outside lane of the motorway. It should have taken him at least ten minutes to reach the Grange but the clinic came into view a whole lot sooner. As he walked up the drive, he wondered whether Cameron had alerted Mitchison. He would soon find out if the Superintendent had decided to make his presence felt.
‘OK, who’s here?’ Lorimer demanded as Cameron’s rangy figure came up at him out of the dark.
‘Dr Fergusson, Mr Boyd with the scene of crime officers and some local uniforms, sir.’
‘The Super?’
Cameron shook his head.
‘Right, let’s get on with it.’
‘Round the back, sir. The body’s under the house in the basement. It’s a sort of boiler room.’
Lorimer was matching the Lewisman’s long stride as he led the way round the side of the building. There were lights on upstairs, he noticed, and wondered which patients had been disturbed. He’d talk to them later. Find out if anyone had heard anything.
‘A Mrs Duncan found the body. She’s one of the ancillary nursing staff. Telephoned the local station and they contacted us.’ Cameron held up his hand in a warning. ‘Just watch the railing, sir, it’s pretty shaky.’
He wasn’t joking. Lorimer felt flakes of rust come away on his bare hands as the railing sagged against the stone steps that led to the basement. It was obvious that this entrance wasn’t used much. Why come in this way, then? Lorimer soon found out. The scene of crime boys had cordoned off the interior stairs of the basement. Lorimer stood at the back entrance of the Grange seeing the fluorescent lights that beamed down on the figures below. Rosie Fergusson was bent over the nurse’s body. He could only see Rosie’s back and the lower half of the corpse from this angle. Above them, on the other side of the grey room, Boyd’s men were going about their painstaking work.
Lorimer moved towards the body, careful to avoid the area Boyd had sectioned off. Rosie glanced up at him quickly, gave a nod then shifted aside to let him see.
The nurse lay on her back, legs spread out under her uniform. Her arms had been pulled together, though, hands flat against one another, the telltale carnation stuck between their stiffening fingers. Lorimer looked at her face. The soft dark hair had come loose from its hairband, he noticed, and was spilling over her cheeks. Hunkering down beside Rosie, Lorimer lifted a lock gently and then let it fall away from her pale skin. Her eyes were still wide open with fright. So was her mouth. Had she begun to cry out before he’d strangled her, he wondered? There was an expression of agonised disbelief that Lorimer had seen before on the faces of murder victims. He looked the length of her lifeless body. The pale blue uniform was crushed and there were rips in her black tights. That must have happened when someone dragged her down here, Lorimer surmised.
‘From what I can see she’s been attacked before entering the boiler room,’ Rosie told him. The steps of the scene of crime officers echoed against the concrete walls.
‘And then given her flower,’ Lorimer muttered. The parallel was obvious. But would they find some thing here that would lead them to the killer of Deirdre McCann?
‘Oh, no!’
Lorimer whirled round in time to see Cameron’s white face, then the young detective was off up the stairs like a shot. Rosie shot Lorimer a look as they heard a sound of retching coming from the garden outside.