The Infirmary (DCI Ryan Mysteries prequel)(38)

MacKenzie tapped a finger against her lips.

“Aye, right enough. To be honest, he was a bit of a sad case,” she said. “The dating profile he set up is something else.” She tapped a few buttons and brought up the file containing his LoveLife profile. “Check out the picture, for starters.”

The image showed a man somewhere in his late thirties, movie-star handsome.

“Must be a stock image he found online,” Ryan said. “Happens often enough.”

“According to this, he’s a surgeon,” she continued. “’World-renowned cardiothoracic surgeon looking for brunettes who like an older man with means, for friendship, romance and maybe more.’”

MacKenzie pulled a face.

“Isobel probably read that and thought he was Prince Charming. Amaya said she’d actually met someone at A&E who fit the bill, or close enough. Poor kid.”

Ryan said nothing, but thought of a lonely girl without a family and resolved to be more grateful for his own, even if they did turn up on his doorstep unannounced.

He reminded himself to let Natalie know he’d be late getting home and was irritated at the need to be answerable to anybody.

He shrugged it off.

“People see what they want to see,” he murmured, then remembered that the dead man had a family too. “Who spoke to Dobbs’ mother?”

“Gregson took care of it personally, in case she decided to start making noises about police harassment. Said she was a bit eccentric.”

It was a cynical ploy but, apparently, it had worked. It was one of the many reasons why Gregson was ideally suited to his position and why Ryan would never aspire to it.

“It’s time we paid Mrs Dobbs a visit,” he decided.

“He’s not our prime suspect any longer,” MacKenzie said. “Shouldn’t we concentrate on the others?”

“It’s a loose end, Mac, and I don’t like loose ends. Besides, if he’s not a suspect, that makes him a victim. He worked at the hospital and there might be something she can tell us about that, or about the people he worked with. We owe his mother some time, if only to eliminate her son from our enquiries.”

*

Across town, Phillips and Lowerson sat on the edge of a brown PVC leather sofa in Will Cooper’s living room. His housemate and sometime girlfriend had retreated to her room and out of the firing line, having failed to perform her role as an effective decoy.

“Right, lad. Why don’t you start by explaining why you’ve been telling porky pies and hiding in your bedroom?”

“I wasn’t hiding,” Cooper muttered. “I just didn’t want to talk to anyone.”

Phillips pursed his lips. Could be that the boy was grieving for his mother. Or could be he was hiding something.

“Alright, why don’t you tell us why you’ve been suspended from the university?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Look, son. We can do this the easy way or the hard way, under caution, down at the station. Which is it to be?”

“I know my rights.”

“Good, glad to hear your mum rubbed off on you somewhere,” Phillips shot back, deliberately reminding him why they were all there. “Now, you can sit here wasting time we don’t have, or you can give us the answers we need so we can be on our way and find the bloke who really killed her. From where I’m sitting, it’s hard not to draw what we might call ‘adverse inferences’ from the fact you keep telling us so many lies.”

“I haven’t lied.”

“Oh, but you have,” Phillips said. “How about the one where you told us you hadn’t seen your mum in a couple of weeks? We’ve got an eyewitness who says otherwise. They say you visited your mum the very night before she died.”

Cooper shifted in his seat but remained silent.

“Then, how about the one where you said you needed to hurry back to the university or you’d miss a lecture? You haven’t set foot in the dental hospital for over a month. I’d like to know why.”

“Like I said, it’s none of your business.”

Phillips pointed a stubby finger squarely at Cooper’s face.

“Mind yourself, Will. We’re not your enemies but you’re going the right way about changing that.”

Cooper sank back into his chair and crossed his legs, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Phillips gave him a genial smile.

“Jack, do me a favour, would you? Put a quick call through to DS Flynn in the Drugs Squad.”

Cooper sat bolt upright.

“Tell him I’ve got a strong suspicion the occupant here is in possession of drugs. He should get a couple of his officers over here, pronto.”

Lowerson pulled out his phone.

“Wait. You can’t do that.”

“Oh, no? Watch me,” Lowerson said, and began keying in the number.

“Just a minute. Maybe—maybe we can talk.”

There was a slight sheen of sweat on Cooper’s forehead and a distinct edge of panic had crept into his voice.

Lowerson paused, waiting for Phillips to make the final call. When his sergeant gave a tiny shake of his head, he returned the phone to his pocket.

For now.

“Alright, Will. You want to tell us something?”