The Dark Room (50 page)

‘There wouldn’t be,’ said Alan. ‘Not if he wrapped her in black polythene before he put her in there.’

‘I accept that, but it’s a problem nevertheless. It would’ve helped if you had been able to identify him as your attacker.’

Alan nodded towards the crumpled photocopy in Jinx’s hands. ‘But you’ve got a written confession. Doesn’t that count for anything? Presumably you’ve
verified that it’s Simon’s handwriting?’

‘Certainly we have, but the original is being tested at the moment for the blood and mucus stains on it. We believe Simon was bleeding from his nose when he wrote it. And that
means he may have been coerced into doing it.’

‘By whom?’

‘We don’t know, sir, which is why we’re interested in finding out when Miss Kingsley began to remember and whether she told anyone about it.’ He glanced at
Jinx. ‘It would be very unfortunate if doubts about Simon’s guilt began to circulate.’

Alan rubbed his jaw aggressively, his fingers rasping through the thick stubble. ‘Are you suggesting Jinx is lying about what happened, Superintendent?’ he demanded.
‘Because if you are, then I begin to understand why she has such a low opinion of Britain’s policemen. Goddammit, man, imagine if the murdering little bastard was still alive, and she
tried to tell you he was guilty. She wouldn’t stand a chance. You’d still be sitting there smugly, giving us this garbage about lack of evidence. Well, thank God she didn’t
remember before is all I can say, because she’d have been signing her own death warrant by naming him. He was obviously a psychotic with paranoid delusions, but he was quite clever enough to
convince you of his innocence while he did away with the woman he held responsible for his murderous binges.’

Cheever shrugged. ‘You’ve encapsulated our dilemma rather well, sir. Personally, I have no doubts that Miss Kingsley is telling the truth. I am also hopeful that we will
find other prostitutes in London who will identify Simon Harris as the client who assaulted them, which, in turn, will point to a pattern of serial criminal behaviour. However, in the short term,
we have a rather timely suicide on our hands which, in view of Harris’s undoubted cleverness, to which you yourself referred, and his past determination to throw the blame on Miss Kingsley,
raises rather too many doubts for comfort. I am sure Miss Kingsley does not want this story to run and run, any more than we do’ – he turned his attention to Jinx and held her gaze with
his – ‘so anything she can tell us now that will result in the coroner bringing in an unequivocal verdict of suicide would be helpful.’

Jinx nodded. ‘I understand,’ she said, glancing towards the open notebook on Fraser’s lap. She thought for a moment. ‘I did not remember anything until the
policewoman asked me about the key-ring yesterday, then it all came back to me in a rush and I was violently sick, as she will testify. I have been told since that Simon had been dead for some
hours before I gave her his name. Because I did not remember who tried to kill me, I could not tell anyone who it was. Dr Protheroe, whom I trust implicitly and whom I would have told had I been
able to remember, will testify that at no time did I ever give him a name or even hint at a name. Had I been able to remember, I would, of course, have told the Hampshire police. From the outset of
the investigation they have made it clear to me that, while I was a suspect, media speculation would not be allowed to cloud their judgement. As a result, I have always had confidence in
Superintendent Cheever and his team and have given them all the time and assistance I could.’

She looked enquiringly at Frank, saw the tiny encouraging lift of his eyebrows and went on. ‘I believe Simon, through his telephone calls to my friends, my doctor and my
relations, learnt that the Hampshire police had refused to take anything at face value and realized he would be arrested the minute my memory returned. I have known him a long time, and knew him to
be very fond of his parents. It is my own conviction that he would have done anything to avoid putting his mother and father through the trauma of his trial, and I am saddened but not surprised
that he took his own life.’

‘I doubt he’d want his colleagues or his parishioners to be subjected to that sort of trauma either, do you?’ Cheever prompted.

‘I knew him to be a very dedicated clergyman,’ she resumed obediently, ‘who must have been appalled, when lucidity returned, to realize that the burden of his guilt
would fall on the people who loved him. He was an ill man, not a bad one.’

Cheever held out his hand to her as he stood up. ‘It’s hardly appropriate to say this, Miss Kingsley, but I’ve enjoyed crossing swords with you. I’m only
sorry we had to meet in such tragic circumstances. You may be required to appear at the inquest but, if you give your evidence there as clearly as you’ve just given it to us, there
shouldn’t be a problem. In my experience, a little generosity goes a long way. Suicide is always easier to accept if there’s a good reason for it.’

‘I know,’ she said, shaking his hand. ‘If Simon had made my car crash look like an accident, then I’d have been a little more worried. You see, I could always
accept I might have killed Meg and Leo. They really did behave like bastards. I just couldn’t accept I’d kill myself.’

His eyes twinkled. ‘So you weren’t quite as indifferent as you led us to believe?’

‘I have my pride, Superintendent.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘After all, I am Adam Kingsley’s daughter.’

Fraser turned the car into the main road. ‘So what’s the verdict, sir?’ he asked. ‘Do you still reckon she got her old man to take Harris out?’

‘I do,’ said the Superintendent mildly. ‘She was afraid it would be her word against Simon’s, didn’t trust us to believe her, so turned to her father to
sort something out.’

‘Well, I’m not so sure. She strikes me as being dead straight, sir.’

‘But, as she said herself, Sean, she’s Adam Kingsley’s daughter.’

‘With respect, sir, I don’t see what difference that makes.’

‘You would, if you’d ever met the breed.’ Frank looked out of the window on to sunlit countryside. ‘They’re effective. They get things done.’

‘They weren’t too effective when Landy was murdered.’

‘People rarely are when they’re at cross purposes.’

‘How come?’

‘I suspect
he
became convinced that she killed Russell, and
she
became convinced that he did. If they both learnt about the affair afterwards, then they both knew
there was a motive for the other one to commit the murder. Divided they fell, united they stand.’

‘It seems odd that Miss Kingsley didn’t tell the police, though. You’d think she’d want her husband’s murderer punished, and, let’s face it,
it’s not as though she’s very fond of her father.’

‘You think so, do you?’

‘She certainly doesn’t go out of her way to express affection for him.’

Cheever smiled but kept his thoughts to himself.

‘So are you going to charge Adam Kingsley with Simon’s murder, sir?’

The Superintendent closed his eyes and let the sun warm his face. ‘I don’t think I heard you right, Sergeant. Did you say something about a murder?’

‘Isn’t that what you reckon . . .’ Fraser broke off.

‘Yes?’

‘Nothing, sir.’

Nightingale Clinic, Salisbury – 12.45 p.m.

Matthew Cornell opened his eyes to find Alan Protheroe looming over him where he lay sprawled on a bench in the clinic gardens. ‘Hi, Doc.’ He shielded the sun’s
glare with a raised hand, then swung his legs off the seat and sat up, lighting a cigarette.

Alan lowered himself on to the vacant piece of bench. ‘The police have come up with a bizarre theory about Simon Harris’s suicide,’ he said in a conversational
tone. ‘They seem to think Jinx might have given his name to her father in order to have him dealt with once and for all.’ He glanced sideways. ‘However, she’s persuaded them
that she didn’t remember anything until yesterday morning, which means neither she
nor
any of her friends here could have passed the information on to Adam Kingsley.’

Matthew looked straight ahead. ‘Why are you telling
me
?’

‘Because I know how you like to keep abreast of the facts.’

The young man turned to grin at him. ‘Plus, as an existentialist, you want to be sure I continue to act in good faith. Isn’t that right?’

‘I couldn’t have put it better myself, Matthew.’

‘Well, I reckon good faith is all about justice.’ Matthew turned the cigarette between his fingers. ‘Have you ever wondered what a murderer’s victims would
demand if their voices hadn’t been silenced? At the very least they would ask to be heard as loudly as their killers, wouldn’t they?’

‘There’s a difference between justice and revenge, Matthew.’

‘Is there? The only difference I see is that justice comes damned expensive. If it didn’t, my father couldn’t afford to keep me here.’

Half an hour later, Alan stood with Jinx at her window and watched a tall, well-built man in an immaculate suit emerge from the back seat of a Rolls-Royce. ‘Your
father?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’ve never explained why you call him Adam.’

‘What makes you think there is an explanation?’

He smiled. ‘Your expression every time the subject comes up.’

She watched the tall figure disappear from view into the building. ‘I wanted to punish him, so I did what God did and cursed Adam for allowing his wife to seduce him.’
She turned to Alan. ‘I was seven years old. I’ve called him Adam ever since.’

‘You were jealous of Betty?’

‘Of course. I didn’t want to share my father with anyone. I adored him.’

Alan nodded. ‘In spite of everything, I suspect you still do.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘I’m long past adoration. But I do admire him. I always have done. He achieves while the rest of us get by.’

‘Well, I hope you recognize that he’s making the first move,’ said Alan casually. ‘Will you be generous to him?’

‘If I’m not, the clinic won’t get paid.’ She smiled slightly at his expression. ‘Don’t go sentimental on me, Dr Protheroe. The one thing you can
be sure of is that my father will never change. He’d sue if he thought you’d deliberately poisoned my mind against him.’

‘So what happens now?’

‘I’m discharging myself. I’m not your patient any more. I think we say goodbye.’

‘Where will you go?’

‘Back to Richmond.’

‘Does your father know Miles and Fergus are there?’

‘Not unless they’ve told him.’

‘If they need a good barrister, then don’t forget Matthew’s father. I’m told he’s one of the best.’

Jinx smiled and tapped her pocket. ‘Matthew’s given me his card. I thought I’d use the gains I’ve made on the Franchise Holdings shares to pay his fees.
Matthew says they’ll be exorbitant.’ She shrugged. ‘Then, with luck and a little emotional blackmail, I may persuade Adam to acknowledge Betty and the boys again once it’s
all over.’

‘You don’t think it might be better to let Miles and Fergus fight this battle alone?’

‘Probably.’

‘Then why don’t you?’

‘Because they’re my brothers,’ she said, ‘and their mother’s the only one I’ve ever known. It’s worth another try, don’t you
think?’

‘It depends whether you believe in the triumph of hope over experience.’

‘I do. Look at me. Look at Matthew.’

He nodded. ‘Matthew’s very fond of you, Jinx.’

‘Yes.’ She listened for footsteps approaching down the corridor. ‘But only because I have the same black eyes as his dying fox. He wants to train as a vet when he
leaves here. Has he told you that?’

Alan shook his head.

‘He’s a sucker for wounded animals. People, he can take or leave.’

‘He’s not so different from you then.’

She gave a little jump as Adam’s footsteps sounded at the top of the stairs. ‘On the whole,’ she said in a rush, ‘I’m not quite so prepared to leave
them as I used to be. Perhaps my judgement’s improving.’

‘That’s good.’ He smiled down at her. ‘The Nightingale’s achieved something then.’

‘Except that I don’t think it was the Nightingale.’ She crossed to the door and stood with her back to it. ‘I don’t always look like something the dog
threw up, you know. You’d be amazed what a little hair does for me.’ She hesitated. ‘I – er – I suppose you wouldn’t like to look me up in a month or two when
I’m more presentable?’

He shook his head. ‘Not really.’

She blushed with embarrassment. ‘It was just a thought, Dr Protheroe. Rather a stupid one. Sorry.’

There was a loud knock on the door. ‘Jane, are you in there? It’s your father.’

Alan lowered his voice. ‘The name is Alan, Jinx, and who the hell needs hair? I only ever fantasize about bald women.’

Another knock. ‘Jane? It’s your father.’

Her eyes gleamed. ‘I’ll be with you in ten minutes, Adam,’ she called. ‘There’s something I have to do first. Can you wait in the foyer for
me?’

‘Why can’t I wait in there?’

The Nightingale’s administrator lifted an eyebrow. ‘I’ll be psychotic in two months,’ he murmured. ‘It does a man no good to keep his feelings zipped up
as tightly as this. I’m in considerable pain here.’

Jinx was shaking with laughter as she quietly locked the door. ‘It’s a woman’s thing, Adam,’ she called to him in a quivering voice. ‘You’d only
be embarrassed.’

‘Oh, I see. Well, no rush,’ said her father gruffly. ‘I passed Dr Protheroe’s office on my way in. I’ll have a word with him while I’m
waiting.’

‘You do that,’ she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. ‘You’ll like him, Adam. He’s your sort of man. Straight as a die and larger than
life.’

With her debut,
The Ice House
, Minette Walters won the Crime Writers’ Association John Creasey Award for the best first crime novel of 1992.
Rapidly establishing a reputation as one of the most exciting crime novelists writing today, her second novel,
The Sculptress
, was acclaimed by critics as one of the most compelling and
powerful novels of the year and won the Edgar Allan Poe Award for the best crime novel published in America in 1993. In 1994 Minette Walters achieved a unique triple when
The Scold’s
Bridle
was awarded the CWA Gold Dagger for best crime novel of the year. Her following five novels,
The Dark Room
,
The Echo
,
The Breaker
,
The Shape of Snakes
and
Acid Row
, were also published to further critical acclaim throughout the world and her ninth novel,
Fox Evil
, won the 2003 CWA Gold Dagger for Fiction. Her short novel
Chickenfeed
was written for World Book Day to encourage emergent readers and was voted the 2006 Quick Reads Readers’ Favourite.