The Infirmary (DCI Ryan Mysteries prequel)(57)

“I’ve requested the CCTV footage from the hospital,” Phillips said. “It’s good and bad news. Which do you want first?”

Ryan pulled a face.

“Give me the bad.”

“They’ve already destroyed the footage for the week when Isobel Harris went into A&E after her dizzy spell at work. It’s policy to destroy it after three weeks unless there’s some kind of incident.”

“Damn,” Ryan ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Okay, how about the good news?”

“They’re sending through the footage for the past week or two, so we can scrutinize it and see who left their shift right on time. We can look for Nicola Cassidy and see who she spoke to, who was on the wrong ward at the wrong time, that kind of thing.”

Ryan thought of all the extra hours racking up and resigned himself to it. There was no other way.

“What about the CCTV on Claremont Road? How far have we been able to track her movements?”

Phillips’ face told him all the answer he needed.

“You know as well as I do, guv. The Council only keep half the cameras working because it’s all they can afford to maintain. The rest of them act as a deterrent.”

“Which means we’ve got nothing?”

“There’s the CCTV from the hospital but…yes, we’ve got bugger all else.”

Ryan pushed away from the desk and paced a few steps, trying to shake off the frustration. Nobody knew better than a policeman about the constant balancing of cost versus benefit when providing a public service. But, God, it was hard.

If there was no convenient camera capturing the killer on screen, he had to find another way.

“I need to know what kind of dosage would have kept Nicola Cassidy unconscious and how frequently she would need topping up,” he said. “That will give us some idea of how often her killer needed to slip back. Then, we can compare the timings with whoever was on shift.”

Phillips smiled.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Ryan looked out across the city and wondered when they would find another woman dead in her own bed, left like so many bits of rubbish to be thrown on the scrap heap. The man who hunted them was insatiable in his need, and arrogant to boot. It was a deadly combination.

“Let’s get there faster, Frank. If it’s the same man and we’re right about him working at the hospital, that means he killed one woman and took another on the very same day. One in the morning, before his shift, and the other after his shift ended. There are dozens of medics associated with A&E who would’ve had the opportunity to commit both murders. That doesn’t even count the ones who work the red-eye, from six p.m. to four a.m., or the ones who worked a double shift.”

“When does the shift pattern change?” Phillips asked.

Ryan turned to face him.

“Friday,” he said shortly.

*

At precisely nine o’clock, Will Cooper kept his pre-arranged appointment to attend CID for questioning. He had a sharky-looking solicitor in tow, one MacKenzie and Lowerson recognised from previous investigations.

“He hasn’t spared any expense, has he?” MacKenzie remarked, from their position in the viewing area overlooking Interview Room C.

Lowerson ran through the questions he planned to ask one more time, just to be sure.

“You’ll be fine,” MacKenzie reassured him. “This one’s a doddle. You’ve got to remember that we’re coming at the interview from different directions. Will Cooper probably wants to help us catch his mum’s killer, but he’s worried about implicating himself in whatever drugs offences he’s been committing on the side. We, on the other hand, don’t care so much about him dealing, so long as he tells us who and what he’s been supplying. We might hit lucky.”

She nodded through the glass.

“Underneath the bravado, you can bet he’s scared. He’s shitting himself that he’ll find himself arrested and chucked behind bars, where everyone in this building will look at him like he’s something on the sole of their shoe. You can use that,” she said. “If he finds himself banged up, he’ll be surrounded by people his mother helped put away. They won’t give him an easy time. You might want to paint a picture of what it’s like to be a guest at Her Majesty’s pleasure.”

Lowerson nodded, lapping up the advice.

“He isn’t here because he wants to be,” MacKenzie continued. “But there’ll be part of him that knows he’s doing the right thing.”

“Could be, he’s mixed up in something big,” Lowerson put in. “Things might have got a bit out of control and he’s frightened that, if he blabs, he’ll be punished.”

“Yeah, there’s that too. What’re you going to do about it?”

“Convince him otherwise.”

MacKenzie smiled and shook her thumb towards the door.

“See? You’re all over this. Go get ’em, tiger.”

*

Beneath a layer of fake tan and a liberal coating of aftershave, Will Cooper was just a boy dressed up in his dad’s suit. That was MacKenzie’s impression as they entered the interview room and seated themselves at the small table, and she thought briefly of how Sharon would have felt to see her son in such a setting.