The Patient Killer (A DCI Morton Crime Novel Book 4) (25 page)

T
uesday April 28th 09:55

‘No luck with the mags, then?’ Rafferty quipped when Morton exited the courthouse with a dour expression.

‘Nope,’ Morton said. ‘I got a privacy zealot who seems to be perfectly happy to let a killer roam free rather than let me take a swab of a man’s saliva.’

‘You know there are other ways to get a saliva sample,’ Rafferty said slyly.

‘You cannot just snog our suspect.’

‘As if I’d do such a thing. Surely the doctor might drink a cup of coffee or sit down somewhere public where we can scour for DNA.’

‘I heard about you snogging a random guy on the street.’

‘How on earth do you know about that?’

‘I have spies everywhere.’

‘Ayala told you. What a little bitch.’

‘Hey! Watch your language.’

‘Yes, Dad. We could always ask him.’

‘We could ask Ayala if he’s a little bitch.’

‘No, though that would be funny too,’ Rafferty said. ‘We could ask Carruthers for a sample. If he’s got nothing to hide, then there’s little reason to hide it.’

‘And then, yes or no, his reaction ought to tell us if we’re barking up the wrong tree.’

‘Exactly.’

***

A
short taxi ride later, Morton and Rafferty arrived on Carruthers’ doorstep. Nobody answered their first knock. Morton crouched down and pushed the letterbox open as wide as it would go so he could look inside.

The television was on in the front room. It was tuned to a snooker game on BBC2.

‘I doubt Mrs Carruthers is a big fan of snooker,’ Morton whispered to Rafferty.

‘He’s in, then,’ she shot back.

‘Dr Carruthers! We know you’re in there. This is DCI Morton. I’d like to speak with you.’

‘Go away!’ Carruthers called back.

‘We only need a moment of your time, Doctor.’

‘I said go. You’ve had enough of my valuable time. Find someone else to bother.’

Morton watched through the letterbox as the volume overlay on the television screen increased over and over again until it showed 100. The BBC commentary began to reverberate throughout the house.

‘I don’t think he wants to talk to you, boss,’ Rafferty pointed out.

‘Did I ever commend you on your excellent observation skills, Rafferty?’

T
hursday April 30th 16:00

It took a couple of days to set up Morton’s next move. He had to get all the pieces on board for it to work, and that meant some careful manoeuvring to get everyone to play along.

‘You’re mad you know, David,’ Kieran said. ‘In a good way.’

The twins and their lawyer were summoned once more. They seemed disbelieving of Morton’s assurances over the telephone that the meeting was, if not a good thing, at least not a bad one.

Shimizu shuffled behind them into the conference room, and Kieran shut the door behind them.

‘Gentlemen, we need you to be seen to be cooperating,’ Morton said.

‘We are cooperating,’ Christopher said. ‘If you’d stop treating us like suspects for five minutes, we’d get along much more amicably.’

‘I realise that, and I appreciate all your efforts. I am sure, in return, that you appreciate Mr O’Connor’s continued lenience.’

‘Just tell us what you want,’ Freddy demanded.

‘Very little. It’s more what we can do for you,’ Kieran said. ‘I’d like to offer you immunity in respect of any transgressions relating to your mother’s transplant.’ The lawyer spoke slowly and precisely, choosing every word carefully.

Chris eyed him suspiciously. ‘Is this some kind of a trick? Tenchi?’

The civil lawyer looked up from his yellow legal pad. Up until his name was mentioned, he had been scribbling away as if contributing a great deal. Morton suspected that the illegible scrawl he could see was nothing more than a shopping list.

‘Err... we should hear what he has to say,’ Shimizu said. ‘What do you want in return, Mr O’Connor? And will you avoid any publicity?’

‘We need your presence here tomorrow at three p.m. Can you do that?’

‘That’s all?’

‘That’s all,’ Kieran said.

Morton told them the plan.

F
riday May 1st 15:00

Ebstein and his lawyer appeared precisely on time, as Morton knew they would. He had called Jessica Nunya’s clerk to arrange the time personally.

The doctor appeared dressed impeccably in a white button-down shirt and sombre blue tie that screamed ‘trust me’. His lawyer was lugging her red QC’s bag made from damask cotton which was stamped with her initial. She was clearly struggling with the weight of whatever it was she had inside. The doctor remained oblivious.

Morton had arranged for the twins to sit in the waiting area inside reception in plain view of the entrance. To guarantee that Doctor Ebstein saw the twins, Morton made Ebstein wait for him at reception for several minutes past the arranged time.

The plan seemed to work. The moment that Ebstein saw the twins, he paled considerably and stopped dead in his tracks. He twisted to whisper something to his lawyer.

‘Good afternoon!’ Morton called out cheerfully. ‘We’ve got a room set up for you. If you’d kindly put these on.’ Morton handed them visitors’ badges, and then waved for Frank the security guard to buzz them through to the back.

‘Thank you for your cooperation today, Doctor, and good to see you again, Ms Nunya.’

Morton led them through the twisting hallways of New Scotland Yard at a good clip, keeping up his end of the conversation with cheerful observations on the weather. Neither Ebstein nor Nunya looked impressed.

‘Before we begin, can I have a moment with my client?’ the lawyer asked.

If it’s genuinely a moment this time
, Morton thought. ‘Absolutely. You take the conference room, and I’ll wait outside.’

Thankfully, this time Ebstein needed only a few minutes to consult his lawyer, and it didn’t take a genius to work out what they were discussing. If Ebstein had fallen for the ruse and thought that the twins might send him to jail, then there was every chance that he would fold.

The doctor had regained some of his composure by the time Morton sat down. He looked almost resigned to the idea of prison, though Morton suspected that the doctor’s idea of what prison was really like had been inspired by television documentaries.

The first words out of his lawyer’s mouth were, ‘What’s on the table?’

Morton smirked. A lesser lawyer would have demanded a deal, and in doing so given away their client’s obvious guilt. This one was good.

‘If,’ Morton began, using the hypotheticals with which criminal lawyers were only too familiar, ‘your client has information that we do not have, then we would be willing to countenance a reduced sentence in return for such assistance as he could provide.’

I sound like Kieran
, Morton thought. He’d clearly spent much too long hanging around the prosecutor. There was no guarantee of a reduced sentence. All Morton and Kieran could do was offer to make representations to the court on the defendant’s behalf.

‘A reduced sentence would be unlikely to sway my client. If immunity were on the table...’

‘Immunity for what?’

‘Any offences my client might have committed. Do you even have authority to negotiate this? Where is the prosecutor?’

‘Would you like to speak to him?’ Morton asked.

‘Absolutely.’

Morton had taken the precaution of ensuring Kieran would be available. The lawyer was in his office. Morton made a call from his mobile to him, explained the situation, and then put him on speakerphone.

‘O’Connor speaking. Who is in the room?’

‘DCI Morton for the Metropolitan Police,’ Morton said. ‘I’m here with Jessica Nunya QC, representing Doctor Isaac Ebstein.’

It was all for the benefit of the tape.

‘I’m not prepared to offer blanket immunity. If Doctor Ebstein were willing to plead to a section 3 offence–’

‘Using a false instrument? No chance.’ Nunya’s tone was almost mocking.

‘It’s the best offer he’s going to get. If he pleads guilty to s3 fraud, I will drop all the other charges – on the condition that he did not participate in the murder of Primrose Kennard.’

‘No deal,’ Nunya repeated. ‘His testimony is worth more than that. A guilty plea to s3 could see him in jail for up to ten years.’

‘He’d get far less, and you know it. It’s that or I charge him as an accessory to murder and throw the book at him for fraud and perversion.’

Nunya looked over to her client. Once more he had turned rather pallid. ‘I need to take instruction from my client.’

‘Then, do so. You have an hour.’

***

E
bstein took the deal.

His lawyer had clearly fought against it while Morton was out of the room. She was packing away her brief when he returned, and Morton caught sight of the paperwork on the table. Ebstein’s signature was in the bottom right-hand corner. It was a practice known as “endorsing the brief” and meant that the lawyer had told the client what they thought, and the client, Ebstein in this case, had decided they knew better.

Morton didn’t blame him. Hotshot lawyer or not, the idea of facing a murder charge rather than pleading guilty to fiddling with some paperwork was an easy choice. Ebstein’s career would probably be over. The NHS wouldn’t want a convict on the books. Nor would anyone in private practice.

For Ebstein, the future would hold a short stint in a minimal security prison, and then the bliss of early retirement.

The doctor’s patients would be the ones to suffer. By all accounts Ebstein was a talented surgeon. If harm caused and harm prevented were tallied, Ebstein would still be in the black.

Morton had placed a blank MG11T form and a black biro on the table and then waited while Ebstein wrote out his witness statement.

An hour later Morton was standing in his office holding a completed form.

Witness Statement

(CJ Act 1967, s.9, MC Act 1980, ss.5A(3)(a) and 5B, MC Rules 1981, r.70)

Statement of... Isaac Ebstein

Age if under 18... Over 18

Occupation... Doctor

This statement (consisting of two pages and signed by me) is true to the best of my knowledge and belief and I make it knowing that, if it is tendered in evidence, I shall be liable to prosecution if I have wilfully stated anything which I know to be false or do not believe to be true.

Signed, Isaac Ebstein

Two years ago I required a kidney transplant to survive. After months on the waiting list, those I worked with set up an appeal for all the staff to be tested for compatibility. Miraculously we found a match, Doctor Byron Carruthers.

At that time I did not know Doctor Carruthers personally. Despite this, he agreed to donate a kidney to me. The transplant took, and I recovered fully.

After that, Doctor Carruthers became an advocate for donation generally and live donors in particular. He donated blood, plasma, and sperm as frequently as he could and forcefully encouraged those around him to do the same.

Eventually he became an altruistic donor. He gave away a liver lobe to a stranger.

This legitimate organ donation came to an end when the NHS refused him permission to make an altruistic donation of a lung lobe. The Ethics Committee felt that multiple altruistic donations were going too far. It is highly unusual to make even one altruistic donation. They implicitly questioned Carruthers’ motives and his sanity.

When he could do no more through proper channels, Carruthers came to me with a plan to continue his work off the books. Whenever a patient could not get a legitimate organ transplant, Doctor Carruthers would attempt to procure the required organ. He bribed families to donate organs legitimately. He stole from cadavers in the event of cardiac deaths. He illegally opted patients into being organ donors without their knowledge or consent. Finally he donated his own organs.

I helped him do it.

When Primrose Kennard came to me as a patient, she needed two lung lobes to be transplanted. Her sons were viable candidates, but one could not donate due to a case of hepatitis C. Carruthers was a match. I implanted Carruthers’ own lung into Primrose Kennard. This was risky, unethical and illegal.

I did it anyway. Carruthers has a certain charisma. His logic made sense. He told me that these people did not deserve to die – and I agreed with him.

I do not agree with what he is doing now. I have no direct knowledge that he killed or harmed Primrose Kennard. I cannot testify that he is her murderer. I can only say that Carruthers has the access, skill, and means to kill without detection.

Another such patient, Olivia Hogge, received an off-the-book bone marrow donation from Doctor Carruthers. She too was found murdered.

Finally, Mr Niall Stapleton, who received blood legitimately given to the NHS blood bank by Doctor Carruthers, was also found murdered.

I do not believe it coincidence that multiple patients connected to Carruthers have died.

Signed, Isaac Ebstein

‘You happy?’ Morton asked Kieran.

‘Delighted. We wanted a killer, not a misguided doctor, and this is enough to get us the real criminal. Take a copy of Ebstein’s witness statement back to the magistrates and get your search warrants in order.’

‘With pleasure.’

F
riday May 1st 16:00

It wasn’t the same magistrate on the bench when Morton returned to Westminster Magistrates’ Court. Part of Morton was relieved. The first attempt to compel Byron Carruthers to give up a DNA sample had gone woefully wrong. On the other hand, it would have been satisfying to see the original magistrate relent in the face of Ebstein’s witness statement.

Morton’s application was approved in no time, and not only for Carruthers’ DNA, but for his financial history, his office, and his home.

The team caused a stir when they arrived on Carruthers’ doorstep thirty strong. The entire building was quickly surrounded, and a large swathe of the forensics department waited in the wings to sweep through Carruthers’ home.