“As are we all, Alan. As are we all,” said Hartnell.
He had filled out over the past six years, as if he had stopped working out regularly, let himself go to seed. His hairline was receding, too. Age gets to us all eventually, Banks realized, and sooner than we expect, remembering when he had first noticed his own hair starting to gray at the temples. It’ll be bloody liver spots next, he thought gloomily, and prostate cancer. That reminded him of the doctor’s appointment he hadn’t rescheduled. It was getting closer.
“You were saying about the pathologist’s report?” Hartnell, still perching, said to Annie.
“Yes, sir,” Annie said. “The postmortem didn’t really tell us anything we didn’t know already. The pathologist repeated that it’s often hard to tell handedness from slash injuries, but seemed to favor a left-to-right motion, considering pressure and depth of the wound. That gives us a right-handed killer, most likely. Again, he couldn’t commit himself to the actual weapon used but stressed that it was extremely sharp and an old-fashioned straight razor or some sort of scalpel were the most likely possibilities. Other than that, Lucy was, as we thought, a quadriplegic. In her case, that meant she couldn’t move or speak. As for time of death, that was fixed at between eight-thirty and ten-thirty A.M. As we know she left Mapston Hall at nine-thirty and was found at ten-fifteen, we can narrow that down quite a bit.”
Hartnell went behind his desk and sat down. “So what exactly can we help you with?” he asked Annie.
“It’s mostly a matter of names,” Annie said. “The people at Mapston Hall said Karen — sorry, Lucy — had no visitors other than the mysterious ‘Mary’ who picked her up on Sunday morning at nine-thirty A.M. and, in all likelihood, killed her. It appears that nobody saw her car, and we can’t get a decent description of her because they were busy and no one really noticed her apart from one staff member.” Annie took an envelope from her briefcase and passed photocopied sheets of paper to everyone. When it came to Banks, he snatched his copy from her childishly. Annie ignored him. “This is the artist’s impression worked out with Mel Danvers, Lucy’s carer, the only person who saw ‘Mary.’ As you can see, it’s not a lot of use.”
It certainly wasn’t, Banks thought, studying the figure in the rain hat, glasses and a long baggy coat, face in shadow except for a vague sense of thin lips and an oval chin. “It seems as if she deliberately wanted to obscure her appearance,” he said.
Annie said nothing.
“True enough,” Hartnell agreed.
“Yes, sir,” Annie said to him. “She didn’t really need all that gear. It had been raining at the time, but it was clearing up by then. Mel also said she got the vague impression the woman was about forty.”
“Are you working on the assumption that whoever killed Lucy Payne knew her real identity?” Hartnell asked, after examining the drawing and putting it aside.
“It seems a reasonable assumption to make at the moment, sir,” Annie said. “Otherwise, what are we left with?”
“I see your point,” said Hartnell. “Given that Karen Drew hadn’t existed for very long, it would have been rather odd if someone wanted to kill her, unless the whole thing was random, someone who just wanted to kill a helpless victim in a wheelchair for the hell of it.”
“Yes, sir,” said Annie.
“Not entirely out of the question,” said Ken Blackstone, “but perhaps the most unlikely scenario.”
“Exactly,” Annie agreed. “Especially now we know who she really was.”
Banks watched her as she spoke. She was focused on the job, but he knew it was costing her an effort, as was not looking at him. It was as if she were straining against powerful forces trying to turn her in another direction. Her jaw was set tight, and a tiny muscle twitched now and then under her left eye. He wished he could just put his arms around her and tell her everything would be okay, but whatever the problem was, he knew it went way beyond a simple hug.
“Which, I suppose,” Hartnell went on, “brings us to the question of how many people knew that Karen Drew was really Lucy Payne.”
“Yes, sir.” Annie opened one of the folders she had brought with her. “Julia Ford gave us to believe that only she and a couple of other members of her law firm knew, including Constance Wells, of course, who handled Lucy’s affairs.”
“Well, she would say that, wouldn’t she?” said Banks. “Julia Ford isn’t going to take any responsibility for what happened to Lucy Payne.”
“Certainly there were doctors and administrators at the hospital who knew,” Annie went on, as if Banks hadn’t spoken. Ken Blackstone noticed and gave him a querying glance. Banks gave a small shake of his head in return. Later.
“What about Mapston Hall?” Hartnell asked.
“Julia Ford said not, and it was certainly in everyone’s best interest to keep it quiet, but it’s always possible someone there knew the truth.”
“Could anyone simply have recognized her?” Blackstone asked.
“That’s a difficult one, Ken,” said Annie. “The short answer is, I don’t think so. She was only twenty-eight, but she appeared to be well into her forties. Her hair was different, shorter, mostly gray, and it had lost its sheen. Her face was puffy and her figure… well, she’d become rather shapeless, lumpy. I doubt that anyone who had seen her six years ago would recognize her today. No, it’s my guess they’d have to have known who she was by some other means.”
“And we also have to contend with the fact that anyone who did know might have told someone else,” Blackstone said.
“Yes, unfortunately,” Annie agreed.
“Did any of the people at hospital or at Mapston have any connection with the Chameleon case?” Hartnell asked. “With the victims or their families?”
“A good question, sir, and that’s what we’re checking into right now,” said Annie. “As yet, we haven’t found anything, but it’s early days.”
Hartnell clapped his hands. “Right,” he said. “I’m afraid you’re going to have a long list from me, DI Cabbot.”
“Better that than no ideas at all,” said Annie.
Hartnell handed her a sheet of paper and passed copies to Banks and Blackstone. “I’ve made out a list of all the major players in the Chameleon case,” he said. “As you can see, I’ve also included the families of the victims. In some cases, the husbands and wives have separated since then. In three cases, actually. It’s not unusual that such a tragic event can tear apart an entire family. The Myers family, parents of the last victim, lived just down the hill from the Paynes, and they moved away down south very quickly. I believe they’re in Devon now. Can’t say I blame them. Anyway, there were certainly plenty of angry relatives when Lucy Payne got off. There’s also Payne’s friend, Maggie Forrest, though I believe she returned to Canada after her breakdown. She may be back. You can check on her, at any rate.”
“I agree,” said Banks. “I’d have a very close look at Maggie Forrest if she’s around.”
“Why’s that, Alan?” Phil Hartnell asked.
“Because she was the closest to Lucy Payne in many ways, and she got seriously betrayed by her.”
“She almost got killed, if it hadn’t been for you, is what I heard,” said Hartnell.
“Yes,” said Banks. “Anyway, the point is that her feelings are bound to be deeply confused and conflicted on the issue. And let’s not forget that she had a few problems of her own. She was seeing a psychiatrist.”
“Okay,” said Hartnell. “Looks as if your first priority, Annie, is finding out whether this Maggie Forrest is in the country, and if she is, could she have had access to Lucy Payne’s identity and whereabouts?”