Sycamore Gap: A DCI Ryan Mystery(86)
“I didn’t realise your wife missed me so much,” Edwards purred and then enjoyed the sight of Terry battling against his natural inclination to pummel him to the ground.
“Shut up and turn around,” the man said instead, snapping the handcuffs to his wrists with added force.
They followed the usual route through the long corridors until they reached a small conference room. He was never allowed into the main visitor’s area. Much too chancy.
“Can you give me a clue?”
“You’ll see, soon enough. Don’t know how you manage it.”
Edwards entered the small room and directed his gaze to the woman who sat at the table. Then, he let out a short, low whistle of appreciation.
“This is a delight,” he said, quite candidly.
“I’m so happy that you had time to see me,” came the breathless response.
My, but she has a voice like melted butter.
“I always like to make time for a beautiful woman,” he smiled, but his eyes were calculating. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“We’ve been corresponding for a while now,” she said coyly. “I finally had the nerve to come and visit you. I hope you’re not disappointed.”
“Not at all,” he crooned. “I’m thrilled.”
He thought of all the women who wrote to him and tried to recall her face. He came up blank, which was a red flag. For some things, he possessed a photographic memory.
“May I ask your name? You’ll forgive my rudeness, but I’m sure you understand that I receive rather a lot of mail.”
She waved a feminine hand but looked slightly put out, not to be the only one.
“I’m Ruth,” she supplied. “Ruth Grant.”
He flicked through his internal filing system and found her name. Ruth Grant, aged forty-one, resident of Newcastle-upon-Tyne for the past ten years. Widowed, mother of two. He didn’t have a picture of her, which is why he hadn’t recognised her.
“Of course!” He exclaimed. “I remember now. How nice to meet you, Ruth.”
As the minutes ticked by, they talked of many things, of the world outside and of the man he used to be. She marvelled at his exploits and commiserated with his current situation, agreeing to help him wherever she could. Then, the talk turned to Ryan.
“I presume you’ve heard of the most recent news?” He asked.
Eyes like saucers, she shook her head.
“Since they stopped reporting your story, I haven’t bothered much with the news.”
“Ah, well, let me enlighten you,” he said, with his signature smile. “I seem to have been in the press again, and this time they’re accusing me of murdering a girl ten years ago. Some student I’ve never even heard of.”
“That’s terrible,” she gasped. “You’re always being victimised.”
“I know,” he said sadly. “My lawyers keep trying to appeal the convictions, but how can I win against the corruption which is rife amongst the police? Just take that man – DCI Ryan.”
“You mean, the one who found those cult killers up on Holy Island around Christmas?”
“That’s the one,” he said encouragingly, hating her more by the second. “He wanted to find someone to pin the murders on, so he picked me. He’s fanatical.”
Ruth clapped her hands to her mouth, shocked.
“You don’t think … he let you go to prison, knowing you were innocent?”
It took real effort not to laugh, but somehow Edwards managed it.
“Yes,” he nodded. “And he’s trying to do it again. This time, he can’t find any evidence against me, except the fact that I worked in the same hospital. It’s a travesty.”
“I thought – I mean to say, aren’t they looking for a man called Colin? The guys at work were talking about some man who’d killed two girls and his own mother, then gone on the run. Everyone’s a bit worried about it. Maybe the police aren’t interested in you, after all?”
She regarded him with large, guileless green eyes.
“That idiot wouldn’t have the brains,” he spat.
“You mean Colin? Do you know him? My goodness, you’re so famous!”
Edwards shrugged.
“He’s written to me several times, looking for inspiration in his humdrum life.”
“Do you think he might have killed those girls?”
“How would I know?” He countered, layering on the charm by leaning in as much as he was able, pinning her with his chocolate brown eyes.
It usually worked and, sure enough, she began to blush daintily. She really was quite lovely. He wondered what she would look like roped and bound, her eyes glazed with pain and fear.