Alan considered this for a moment. "That can't be right. You said she was out there for an hour and you saw her face every time she lit a cigarette. If you saw her, then he must have seen her too, so why not finish her off then?"
Matthew looked down the drive towards where Alan had stopped his car on Monday night. "Because he didn't expect to find her outside. She'd have screamed her head off if he'd crept up on her under the tree."
"Not if he'd hit her from behind. She wouldn't have had time to scream. I didn't."
"Jesus, Doc," said Matthew severely, "you don't have much imagination, do you? He wasn't going to make it look like murder, not after he went to so much trouble to fake suicide last time. He was going to trap her in her room, slit her wrists or string her up from the bathroom door, and you'd have had a suicide on your hands next morning, and the cops would have rubbed their hands and closed their files. My guess is, he's been waiting for days for an opportunity to slip inside and do the business, but he's up against it here. He probably didn't reckon on so many people being on the premises at night. You've got good security, Doc, but then you need to with the sort of fees you charge." He grinned. "There are too many rich bastards in here who'd do their nuts if intruders could walk in and out as they pleased."
"Why did he have the sledgehammer if he didn't plan to hit her with it?"
Matthew shook his head in exasperation. "You're no psychologist. are you? It's the tool of his trade, Doc, and the rule is, you carry the tools with you just in case. Look at the Yorkshire Ripper-he carried his hammer and chisel with him wherever he went. You should study a bit. This guy's an organized nutter, and your average organized nutter doesn't go out unprepared."
"Except we're not talking about a serial killer."
"You reckon? Three murders look like a series to me."
"Come on, Matthew, there was ten years between them, two of the victims were men and one was a woman, and all three victims were linked to Jinx Kingsley. That's not a typical pattern for serial killing."
"Not yet maybe," said Matthew, "but I'd say his control's really slipping now, wouldn't you? There were nine years between Jeffrey Dahmer's first and second murders, then in the next four years he committed another fifteen. Will you still be saying this guy isn't a serial killer when the next poor sod gets bludgeoned to death?" He saw Alan's skepticism. "Anyway, who's to say what he's been doing between then and now? I'll lay money on the fact that he's found some other way to work out aggressions. You should talk to my dad. He's represented creeps like this at trial. They're bloody clever and bloody manipulative, and I'll tell you this for free-if I were Jinx, I'd have amnesia too."
"All she has to do is give his name."
"Which means it'll be her word against his. Get real, Doc. She's the number one suspect, so it stands to reason she's going to try and throw suspicion on someone else. That's the name of the game as far as the police are concerned. She needs proof, and my guess is, there is none. I'd say she's desperately buying time at the moment until she can remember something that will nail the bastard."
"She couldn't be any worse off than she is now."
Matthew flicked his butt onto the drive. "You're forgetting she's been through this once with Russell. She already knows what happens when no one's convicted of a crime. The victim's nearest and dearest live with the guilt forever and tear each other apart in the process. Suspicion's an evil thing, Doc. I know. I've been there. My old man's accused me of some terrible things in the past, not because he knows I've done something, but because he's afraid I've done it."
"So has she told you who it is?"
"There'd be no point. What could a junky do? It's her father she needs to tell. He's the only guy with the clout to sort this bastard out once and for all."
Alan frowned at him. "You haven't suggested that to her, have you?"
"Jesus Christ! Do me a favor!"
"You have to act in good faith, Matthew, and that usually means acting within the law."
Matthew grinned. "I know what good faith is, Doc."
But did he?
The Nightingale employed two gardeners, who were packing up for the evening and who both agreed there had been a sledgehammer in the toolsheds prior to the assault on the doctor. "I used it myself a week or two back," said one, "when I was replacing the fencing posts near the bottom gate."
"Do you remember where you put it when you'd finished?" asked Alan.
He nodded towards the younger man. "Tom here took it back on the trailer, same as always."
Alan turned to the lad. "Do you remember which shed you put it in?"
There was a moment's awkward silence. "I didn't put it nowhere," said Tom, shuffling feet that were too big for him. "I borrowed it out to my dad to do some building work back home. There weren't no harm. We've only used it here once in six months, and Dad's looking after it like it were his own."
ROMSEY ROAD POLICE STATION, WINCHESTER-7:15 P.M.
Frank Cheever found the note from his secretary when he returned to his office later that evening, following a fruitless trip to Salisbury after his bird had already flown. "We couldn't hold him," said Blake. "And if you're interested, the solicitor gave us another photograph as he was leaving." She handed it over. "I think it was meant for you and not for us. He said to remind anyone who was interested that it takes a minimum of five hours to drive from here to Redcar, and another five hours to drive back again."
The Superintendent looked at a picture of Miles and Fergus, laying bets on a racecourse. The time was 3:10 p.m; the date was the the thirteenth and the venue, according to a handwritten piece on the back, was Redcar in Cleveland. "How did Adam Kingsley know Meg and Leo were murdered on the thirteenth?" he grunted suspiciously. "We don't know for sure ourselves when they died."
"Because the thirteenth was the day his daughter faked her car crash," said Maddocks impatiently.
Dr. Protheroe phoned, said the note. The sledgehammer found at the Nightingale Clinic on Tuesday is not the one Harry Elphick saw before the assault. Dr. Protheroe has interviewed the gardeners and has established that the clinic's hammer has been on loan to a Mr. G. Stack for the last two weeks and is still in his possession. Address: 43 Clonmore Avenue, Salisbury. He suggests this rules Miss Kingsley out of suspicion as far as the attack on himself is concerned and further suggests thai you test the sledgehammer in your possession for Leo's and Meg's blood. If it proves positive, he believes this will absolve Miss Kingsley of their murders. There is no way (he asked me to underline "no" twice!) she could have brought the murder weapon with her to the Nightingale, as she was semiconscious when she arrived by ambulance and has not left the premises since. Dr. Protheroe insisted on the following PS: Why am I expected to do DI Maddocks's work for him? I am tempted to say that had the matter been left to the Salisbury police, the above facts would have been unearthed yesterday afternoon.
Frank tossed the note to Maddocks. "Well?" he demanded.
Maddocks read it with a frown. "Not my fault, sir. I can only pursue one line of inquiry at a time."
"Meaning what precisely?"
"Meaning that you never gave me the chance to follow up. The weapon was handed over to us yesterday afternoon, sir, and I've been chauffcuring you all today. Anyway, Bob Clarke's already given it a clean bill of health. There's no blood on it, only paint."