"There wouldn't be," said Alan. "Not if he wrapped her in black plastic before he put her in there."
"I accept that. But it's a problem, nevertheless. It would have helped if you'd been able to identify him as your attacker."
Alan nodded towards the crumpled photocopy in Jinx's hands. "You've got a written confession. Doesn't that count for anything? Presumably you've verified that it's Simon's handwriting."
"Certainly we have, but the original is being tested at the moment for the blood and mucus stains on it. We believe Simon was bleeding from his nose when he wrote it. And that means he may have been coerced into doing it."
"By whom."
"We don't know, sir, which is why we're interested in finding out when Miss Kingsley began to remember and whether she told anyone about it." He glanced at Jinx. "It would be very unfortunate if doubts about Simon's guilt began to circulate."
Alan rubbed his jaw aggressively, his fingers rasping through thick stubble. "Are you suggesting Jinx is lying about what happened, Superintendent?'' he demanded. "Because if you are, then I begin to understand why she has such a low opinion of Britain's policemen. Goddammit, man, imagine if the murdering bastard was still alive, and she tried to tell you he was guilty. She wouldn't stand a chance. You'd still be sitting there smugly, giving us this garbage about lack of evidence. Well, thank God she didn't remember before, is all I can say because she'd have been signing her own death warrant by naming him. He was obvously a psychotic with paranoid delusions, but he was quite clever enough to convince you of his innocence while he did away with the woman he held responsible for his murderous binges."
Cheever shrugged. "You've encapsulated our dilemma rather well, sir. Personally, I have no doubts that Miss Kingsley is telling the truth. I am also hopeful that we will find other prostitutes in London who will identify Simon Harris as a client who assaulted them, which, in turn, will point to a pattern of serial criminal behavior. However, in the short term, we have a rather timely suicide on our hands which, in view of Harris's undoubted cleverness, to which you yourself referred, and his past determination to throw the blame on Miss Kingsley, raises rather too many doubts for comfort. I am sure Miss Kingsley does not want this story to run and run, any more than we do"-he turned his attention to Jinx and held her gaze with his-"so anything she can tell us now that will result in the coroner bringing in an unequivocal verdict of suicide would be helpful."
Jinx nodded. "I understand," she said, glancing towards the open notebook on Fraser's lap. She thought for a moment. "I did not remember anything until the policewoman asked me about the keyring yesterday. Then it all came back to me in a rush and I was violently sick, as she will testify. I have been told since that Simon had been dead for some hours before I gave her his name. Because I did not remember who tried to kill me, I could not tell anyone who it was. Dr. Protheroe, whom I trust implicitly, and whom I would have told had I been able to remember, will testify that at no time did I ever give him a name or even hint at a name. Had I been able to remember, I would, of course, have told the Hampshire police, who from the outset of the investigation have made it clear to me that while I was a suspect, they would not allow media speculation to cloud their judgment. As a result, I have always had confidence in Superintendent Cheever and his team and have given them all the time and assistance I could."
She looked inquiringly at Frank, saw the tiny encouraging lift of his eyebrows, and went on: "I believe Simon, through his telephone calls to my friends, my doctor, and my relations, learned that the Hampshire police had refused to take anything at face value, and realized he would be arrested the minute my memory returned. I have known him a long time, and knew him to be very fond of his parents. It is my own conviction that he would have done anything to avoid putting his mother and father through the trauma of his trial, and I am saddened but not surprised that he took his own life."
"I don't think he'd want his colleagues or his parishioners to be subjected to that sort of trauma either, do you?" Cheever prompted.
"I knew him to be a very dedicated clergyman," she resumed obediently, "who must have been appalled, when lucidity returned, to realize that the burden of his guilt would fall on the people who loved him. He was an ill man, not a bad one."
Cheever held out his hand to her as he stood up. "It's hardly appropriate to say this, Miss Kingsley, but I've enjoyed crossing swords with you. I'm only sorry we had to meet in such tragic circumstances. You may be required to appear at the inquest, but if you give your evidence there as clearly as you've just given it to us, there shouldn't be a problem. In my experience, a little generosity goes a long way. Suicide is always easier to accept if there's a good reason for it."
"I know," she said, shaking his hand. "If Simon had made my car crash look like an accident, then I'd have been a little more worried. You see, I could always accept I might have killed Meg and Leo. They really did behave like bastards. I just couldn't accept I'd kill myself."
His eyes twinkled. "So you weren't quite as indifferent as you led us to believe?"
She smiled suddenly. "I have my pride, Superintendent. After all, I am Adam Kingsley's daughter."
Fraser turned the car into the main road. "So what's the verdict, sir?" he asked. "Do you still reckon she got her old man to take Harris out?"
"I do," said the Superintendent mildly. "She was afraid it would be her word against his, didn't trust us to believe her, so turned to her father to sort something out."
"Well, I'm not so sure. She strikes me as being dead straight, sir."
"But as she said herself, Sean, she's Adam Kingsley's daugher."
"With respect, sir, I don't see what difference that makes."
"You would, if you'd ever met the breed." Frank looked out of the window onto sunlit countryside. "They're effective. They get things done."
"They weren't too effective when Landy was murdered."
"People rarely are when they're at cross-purposes."
"How come?"
"I suspect he became convinced that she killed Russell, and she became convinced that he did. If they both learned about the affair afterwards, then they knew there was a motive for the other one to commit the murder. Divided they fell, united they stand."
"It seems odd that Miss Kingsley didn't tell the police, though, You'd think she'd want her husband's murderer punished, and let's face it, it's not as though she's very fond of her father."
"You think so, do you?"
"She certainly doesn't go out of her way to express affection for him."
Cheever smiled but kept his thoughts to himself.
"So are you going to charge Adam Kingsley with Simon's murder, sir?"
The Superintendent closed his eyes and let the sun warm his face. "I don't think I heard you right, Sergeant. Did you say something about a murder?"
"Isn't that what you reckon-" Fraser broke off.
"Yes?"
"Nothing, sir."
THE NIGHTINGALE CLINIC-12:45 P.M.
Matthew Cornell opened his eyes to find Alan Protheroe looming over him where he lay sprawled on a bench in the clinic gardens. "Hi, Doc." He shielded the sun's glare with a raised hand, then swung his legs off the seat and sat up, lighting a cigarette.