Sycamore Gap: A DCI Ryan Mystery(90)

“Jeff? Would you mind giving us a low-down on where we’re at with pathology?”

Pinter straightened and loped towards the front, in that long-legged, sure-footed way of his. The sun shone through the dingy window along the sidewall, to pick up the silver streaked through his hair, lending him a rakish air.

“Got the technicians going over Geraldine Hart now,” he plunged straight in. “But I’d put money on her dying of cardiac arrest, following a massive dose of Lorazepam. There was a spent syringe on the floor beside the bed – the only one around – and its contents are confirmed as a match. Went in straight through the artery,” he made a jabbing motion towards the side of his own neck, causing widespread discomfort around the room.

“No defensive wounds?”

“None that showed any obvious signs of a struggle,” he shrugged. “There were some skin cells under a couple of her nails, so we’ll test those and see.”

“What about any other medications?”

“She was on a cocktail of drugs,” Pinter tugged at the lapels of his navy blazer. His attire resembled that of an off-duty naval captain, Phillips thought resentfully, eyeing the beige chinos and smart navy jacket.

“That’s the interesting thing, I suppose –”

“What’s that?” Phillips snapped back to attention.

“Thing is, she was on so many drugs, in larger doses. She even had oral morphine, for special occasions. I suppose I can’t understand why he – Colin – would choose to administer an overdose of Lorazepam, when he could easily have chosen something stronger and quicker.”

There was a brief lull.

“Remember that this amateur likes to think he’s better than The Hacker, or at least as good. He wants the fame and the glory of the Holy Island killers, without the hassle.” Ryan said, in bored tones.

Pinter gave him a hard look.

“There could be an intelligent reason behind his choice,” he said.

“Nah,” Phillips dismissed that idea with the back of his hand. “He’s a coward, if you ask me. Look at how he’s scuttled away to hide. He’s probably snivelling behind some bins, somewhere. Not exactly the actions of an artist. Unless –”

“What?” Ryan asked.

“Well, it’s a mad thought,” Phillips held both hands out, in mock embarrassment. “But maybe – I mean, are we sure Colin is even our man? Faulkner, you said yourself, you found other prints. Could be that there’s an even bigger coward out there, hiding behind that poor bastard who’s on the run.”

“It’s possible, you know,” Ryan mused.

“We’ve been through this,” Gregson boomed, from the back. “The facts point to Colin, so find him.”

“Well, that’s the trouble, sir. He hasn’t left much of a trail to follow,” Ryan pointed out. “I’ve asked Doctor Donovan to give us some insights on his mentality. Doctor?”

Paddy wove through the ensemble, carrying his heavy bulk with grace.

“I haven’t had much time to look at the case files, or to complete anywhere near a full report. I want you all to understand that what I say here will be initial observations only. They shouldn’t be taken as gospel.”

“Understood,” Ryan answered for the room.

“Alright, then. First thing to think about is an oldie, but a goodie. He lives with his mother and, as far as we can tell, always has done. No evidence of former relationships or significant women in his life. Lack of father figure; in fact, rather than becoming the ‘man of the house’ there’s some potential for Colin to have been significantly emasculated, over the years. Bit of a Norman Bates figure, if you like.”

“OK, but how does that help us?”

“Well, the thing to remember is that he will have looked to his mother as both friend and foe. He will have been immensely protective of her, whilst also hating her at times. Fear of disappointing her, or bringing another woman into the house, will have prevented him from forming new and meaningful attachments, even if he wanted to.”

“But, we found the files on his computer,” Ryan interposed. “He had files on several women, including Claire Burns. He’s obviously interested in women.”

Paddy nodded sagely.

“Deep down, he will have known that these women were unattainable. It would have been ‘safe’ for him to develop imaginary worlds around them, to fashion himself as a great lothario, in order to cope with his ultimate reality. Because, in reality, he is likely impotent or able to become excited only by the thought of exerting control over women, perhaps violent control.”