Daisy in Chains(54)

‘Firstly, it would be impossible. Second, I wouldn’t want to. And third, I’m not here to entertain you.’

He grins properly, showing those white, rather sharp teeth of his. ‘Doesn’t it strike you, Maggie, that it would take some awesome powers of persuasion to get a woman you hardly know into a cave?’ he says. ‘Even with the promise of mythological jewellery.’

‘I agree. It would take someone exceptionally personable and persuasive. In that sense, you were a gift for the prosecution.’

The grin had been fading, it widens again now. ‘You flatter me.’

‘It’s also possible they were dead when they were taken into the caves. No charm would be needed then. Just brute strength.’ She lets her eyes drop, noticeably, to his forearms. Even in the loose prison sweatshirt, their bulk is noticeable.

His head is shaking. ‘Maggie, when you and the prosecution talk about my good looks and charm, I’ll happily go along with it. When you leap to my ability to manoeuvre dead bodies in confined spaces using ropes and pulleys, you’re slipping into fantasy land.’

‘How so?’

‘The lightest of those three women was one hundred and seventy pounds. Myrtle Reid substantially heavier. The closest you can get a vehicle to Rill Cavern – and my car is not an off-road model, by the way – is twenty metres. So I’m supposed to have carried nearly two hundred pounds of dead weight up a one in four gradient and manoeuvred it down two hundred metres of tunnel. There isn’t a rope-and-pulley system in the world that could pull that one off. And a wheelbarrow, trolley or wheelchair couldn’t make the trip either – the police tried it. I promise you, if we’re talking about a lone killer here, those women went into the caves alive.’

‘Interesting point,’ she says. ‘Is it possible we’re looking for a killing gang?’

‘A cult of fat haters?’

‘Or fat obsessives. Which again might point to you as ring leader.’

‘Rubbish. I have no strong feelings on the subject of obesity, other than a general opinion that it’s not terribly good for a person’s health. You, on the other hand, are too skinny. What size are you? Six? Eight? Have you had eating disorders in the past?’

‘We’re not talking about me. Let’s get back to how they were killed. The other two victims had no sign of head trauma, either before or after death, so the same method couldn’t have been used for all three.’

He rubs a hand across his jaw, as though the skin there might still be sore from shaving. His hands are square, his fingers long. Dark hairs cluster between his knuckles. His nails are cut short, are clean. She’s not listening to him, she realizes, has to think hard to remember what he’s just said. Something about how Chloe died.

‘I’d say he definitely used the wedding ring heist for this one,’ he’s saying. ‘She wouldn’t have been able to resist it, but this time he told her the rings were bound in stone in one of the rock pools.’

Maggie thinks back to her research. Most of the caves in the area have water in the form of underground lakes, ponds and dozens of small pools.

‘They get to the pool in question. Its surface is around waist height and it’s deep, maybe four feet. They lean over together; he’s standing behind her, and in the cold cave she’s glad of his body warmth pressing against her.’

‘Chloe Wood wasn’t on a date. It was a business meeting.’

His index finger jabs the air. ‘You’re right. Forget the subterranean cuddle. He shines the torch, points, she can’t see it, he says, “Stand on tiptoe, lean over a bit more.” She does, he puts a hand to the back of her head and dunks her under.’

Maggie looks steadily back, determined to let nothing show on her face.

When he doesn’t get a reaction, he moves on. ‘She’s going to fight, obviously, and she’s a big girl, so keeping her head under for the four or five minutes that drowning requires wouldn’t have been easy. This killer has to be a big or fit bloke, wouldn’t you say, Maggie? Someone who knows how the human body works, what pressure to apply and to where. He’d know all the weak spots, possibly be trained in combat techniques. How’s Detective Sergeant Weston looking these days? He was pretty fit when I knew him.’

The mention of Pete’s name bothers her, as though he has no place in this discussion. ‘I’m not going to dignify that with a response. So you think the killer had a different mode of attack for each woman?’

‘I think he had several methods up his sleeve. He’d have wanted a plan B, possibly plans C and D. Shall I tell you what I think he did with Myrtle?’

‘Oh, please.’

‘He let her take her chances. I think he led her into the cave, took her way down deep, and then, when she was transfixed upon something – probably the mythical wedding rings again – he quietly backed away, switched off the light and scarpered.’

‘Not possible.’

‘Why?’

‘How would he have found his way out? Once he switched the torch back on, she’d see it and follow him.’

‘Fluorescent rocks.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Certain minerals have fluorescent properties, meaning they glow in ultraviolet light. I’d say he dropped a short trail, just enough to get him safely round the bend and out of sight. And that his torch had a normal setting and a UV one. Completely unseen, he followed the rocks out, ignoring or possibly enjoying the sound of Myrtle’s screaming.’