Fair point, Phillips had to admit, then had a worrying thought.
“What if Edwards coached Colin into killing Claire Burns?”
“I would have said it was possible, but the skill needed to dissect her body in that way took some degree of medical training. Added to which, her torso was marked to replicate the Holy Island victims. That took inside knowledge, which Donovan had. More likely, when Donovan heard who had found Amy’s body, he did a bit of digging and realised that Colin was connected to Edwards. He couldn’t punish Edwards, since he’s already behind bars, but he could punish Colin.” Ryan shrugged. “What’s the best way? Killing the two people Colin Hart valued most in the world – Claire Burns and his mother, Geraldine. He had the opportunity to do both.”
“Cold-blooded,” Phillips said.
“Vengeful,” Ryan added. “With the added bonus that the police would turn their sights on poor old Colin, the weirdo who has an obsession with true crime and lived across the street from Claire.”
“Completely stitched him up,” Phillips tugged at his lip while he thought about it. “It’ll be an interesting chat with Donovan tomorrow morning.”
“You’re telling me,” Ryan murmured. There were so many things he wanted to know. Chiefly, how Colin had come to call Donovan’s home telephone number. Had Donovan ingratiated himself with the man in a psychiatric capacity?
Phillips yawned again. “Wonder what Faulkner will find in Donovan’s house?”
“I dread to think.”
With facts and statements crowding his mind, Ryan headed home to his empty apartment on the Quayside. Walking through the door, he no longer faced the ghostly image of his dead sister. Instead, the space felt devoid of any soul at all, and he wished Anna were with him. His body yearned for her and his mind sought the peace that she could bring.
The call from the Control Room came in the dead of night, jolting him awake from a light, fitful sleep. On a routine check of the occupants in the holding cells, the duty sergeant had made a grisly discovery. Doctor Paddy Donovan had committed suicide, his limp body found twisted at the end of a makeshift ligature tied to the tap on the little sink inside his cell.
The man had been nothing, if not resourceful.
CHAPTER 27
Thursday, June 25th 2015
“Phillips? What the fuck?”
Frank stood inside the foyer of CID Headquarters sipping sugary caffeine, awaiting Ryan’s arrival. He, too, had been disturbed from his sleep and had left his foam mattress and his love to slumber peacefully while he returned to deal with the man who could have killed her.
“Short answer is that we haven’t got a clue. Pinter’s in there now, checking him over, but he says it looks like a classic case of suicide.”
“Not good enough.” Ryan jabbed a finger at his chest, causing Phillips to raise a mild eyebrow in warning. “I want to know who is the weak fucking zebra, in all this. Donovan was transferred to Holding with a medic and two DCs, after being placed under arrest by yours truly. You took Denise home. Who failed to check him, through the night?”
Phillips took another silent sip of his drink before responding.
“Logbook says that all personal items were removed before he was checked in. The duty sergeant swears blind that Donovan was checked and double-checked before he was put to bed. He seemed defiant, cursing like a sailor when he was booked in; nothing to suggest that he was a suicide risk.”
“What about CCTV?”
Phillips pulled a face.
“No camera in his cell or the corridor outside.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed.
“This stinks, Frank,” he breathed.
“Aye, it does. There’ll be an inquiry,” he pointed out.
“More than that,” Ryan shook his head angrily. “Donovan, the world’s most egotistical killer, decides to end himself before the glory of a high-profile trial? That’s about as likely as icicles in hell. Have I stepped into the twilight zone, Frank?”
Phillips was lost for words, a state of affairs made worse by the arrival of their superior.
DCS Gregson walked through the main doors to CID, his face set into angry lines. He was groomed and dressed smartly in slacks and a work shirt, his white-grey hair once more brushed away from his strong-boned face. He glared at both men.
“Does somebody want to tell me what the bloody hell is going on?” His eyes blazed. “Ryan, the last orders I gave you were to find Colin Hart. I then hear that the man was apprehended and taken into custody under psychological supervision. Job done, I think to myself. Next thing I know, I get a call telling me a respected clinical psychiatrist has committed suicide whilst in police custody. Somebody give me a sodding report!”