The Reborn (22 page)

When Petersson left, she crawled back under the duvet, but the chill generated by his words would not dissipate.

That was the problem. Petersson’s argument made a kind of sense, although she couldn’t let herself begin to believe it.

But what if it was true and McNab was alive?

One thing was certain. Now that Petersson had planted a doubt, she would have to find out.

Petersson strode away from Rhona’s apartment building. He was convinced that she hadn’t known or even suspected that the policeman’s death might have been a cover-up. Her shock had seemed entirely genuine. Now that the possibility had been presented, she would pursue it, probably without regard to the consequences. If, as he suspected, McNab was in hiding, she was his best chance of finding him.

It was, he thought with satisfaction, the outcome he had hoped for.

27

Magnus thought he had isolated all the Greek phrases from Kira’s notebook, although he couldn’t be entirely sure. Some had been hidden in calculations and others had been written backwards, which had confused him until he’d fetched a hand mirror.

He had eleven separate words or phrases. Now he set about deciphering them, using the method that had provided him with ‘It begins’.

There were twenty-four letters of the Greek alphabet, corresponding for the most part to a single letter of the Roman alphabet. He studied the table he’d printed out.

  

His method of transcription was simplistic and didn’t take into account all the Romanised forms. It also involved making guesses at the letter ‘h’, which apparently could be represented by a tiny, apostrophe-shaped mark. Despite this, his method did seem to be giving him a result.

The second entry on the diary had appeared one page further on. It was embedded inside a set of parentheses, split in four by plus signs as though representing a calculation.

Ignoring the plus signs, he wrote down the string of symbols and consulted his table.

He muttered to himself as he wrote down their Roman equivalents, leaving a space for the letter he wasn’t sure of. ‘Delta, iota . . . not sure, nu, upsilon, sigma, omicron, and another version of sigma.’ It spelt . . .

He said it aloud, in case it rang a bell, then realised what the third symbol might be.

‘Omega! So another letter “o” . . . and upsilon can be a ‘y’. Dionysos.’

Magnus went online and looked the name up. Dionysos was easy enough to find. As the son of the Greek god Zeus, he was the god of wine – among other things – and had inspired a religion. His female worshippers, known as the Maenads, were said to be inspired by him into a state of ecstatic frenzy, through a combination of dancing and drunken intoxication. Apparently they lost all self-control during this state and engaged in uncontrolled sexual behaviour.

He thought of Melanie and her pregnancy, apparently the result of just such a drunken party. There were eleven other phrases to translate. What else would they tell him about Kira and the life she had led in the run-up to her death?

He closed the notebook and set it to one side. Kira’s scribblings would have to wait. It was late and he wanted to look over some material before his next meeting with Coulter. He’d been correct in his assumption that an interview would be easier to arrange if DI Wilson requested it. They were due to meet Coulter at nine thirty the following morning.

He retrieved the box file from the shelf and opened it. Immediately he caught Coulter’s scent again and wondered if the smell of cologne and sweat would ever leave the well-thumbed pages.

He leafed through until he found the paragraph he sought. In the context of the current investigation, it had a certain resonance.

Coulter’s grandiose assessment of his power over women was at least partly accurate, if the story of his nine offspring was true. His current prison correspondence also suggested certain women were drawn to him, possibly increasingly so since his work on the dolls had become public.

Magnus had found Coulter manipulative, powerfully so. But he had to admit that he had played the role of reformed character well, particularly during their time together in the workshop. He could imagine the man making a strong impression on women using that act.

He recalled Dr Shan’s guardedness when discussing her patient. Had Coulter managed to manipulate Dr Shan’s thought processes the way he’d done with other women? If he had, it might account for the doctor’s displeasure at Magnus’s appearance on the scene. Maybe she wanted to keep the study of Coulter to herself.

Those sent by the courts to a State Hospital were rarely released, and medication was used to keep symptoms of their mental illness at bay. Patients who had turned their lives around and now contributed in some way to society were few and far between.

If Coulter had proved to be such an exception, then there was cause for celebration. A visible success for Dr Shan.

If
Coulter had reformed.

It all came down to your understanding of the concept of evil. From what Magnus had read and seen, he was inclined towards the view that true psychopathy was innate and could never be reversed. If Coulter had been mentally ill at the time of the murder and had been treated for it, then he was a success. If, on the other hand, he was a psychopath, then he was reflecting back what he knew Dr Shan wanted to see, and taking pleasure from his manipulation of her. Magnus believed the latter to be the case.

A flurry of rain splattered the windscreen, and Bill flipped on the wipers.

‘The tech boys are of the opinion the video is of a doll, not a live baby,’ he said. ‘They say the flicker we saw was caused by the camera moving. Also, DS Clark has spoken to the other members of the Daisy Chain. Their stories are all the same. Too much to drink at a party, had sex, got pregnant.’

‘Pretty high hit rate.’

‘I suspect we’re talking about more than one try. Despite what they all say, I think there was a pact, probably instigated by Kira.’

They lapsed into silence. Ten minutes later, the bulk of the State Hospital came into view. Their admittance was swift, and this time they didn’t need to wait for Dr Shan to escort them; the receptionist took one look at Bill’s ID and let them through immediately.

Dr Shan was waiting for them on the other side of security, looking, Magnus thought, as composed as ever. He had picked up the scent of roses before they spotted her. She acknowledged his smile before greeting Bill.

‘Detective Inspector Wilson, I presume.’

‘Dr Shan. Thank you for arranging the meeting so quickly. I assume you haven’t told Coulter what it’s about?’

She shook her head. ‘I only mentioned Professor Pirie’s visit. Mr Coulter knows nothing about you accompanying him.’

‘Good.’

‘If you’ll come this way please.’

They went back down the corridor – the smell of disinfectant overwhelming – to the interview room Magnus had used on his previous visit. A few minutes later Coulter arrived, accompanied as before by a pair of male orderlies. He paused at the door, registering Bill’s presence. Magnus thought he saw pleasure cross Coulter’s face, but it resumed a neutral expression as he took a seat opposite them at the table and waited for an introduction.

‘Mr Coulter, I’m Detective Inspector Wilson. I’d like to ask you a few questions.’

As before, the air about Coulter seemed to buzz with energy. Magnus wondered if Bill was picking up on it too.

‘What about?’

‘Your dolls.’

Coulter gave a sly smile. ‘You want to buy one, Detective Inspector?’

Bill ignored the question. ‘I understand you make them to order?’

Coulter nodded.

‘Would you recognise a doll you’d made?’

‘They’re my babies. Of course I would recognise them.’

Bill took a photograph from the envelope he carried and slid it across the desk. Magnus was surprised to note it didn’t feature the doll from the park.

Coulter swiftly glanced at the picture.

‘I never made that.’

‘What about this one?’ Bill pushed another photograph forward.

Coulter made an exasperated noise. ‘These are crap, production line stuff. Mine are special.’

A third photo was pushed across the table.

This time Coulter’s face lit up. ‘Now you’re talking. That’s my Daisy. Beautiful, isn’t she?’ He picked up the picture and examined it closely.

‘That one is definitely yours?’

‘I’d know Daisy anywhere. See that angel’s touch. It took me forever to get that right.’ He met Bill’s eyes. ‘Anyway, I always sign my dolls so no one else can claim my work.’

‘Where do you sign them?’

‘Inside the head. The doll’s name and my initials, JC.’

Magnus was surprised that Coulter had given out the information they sought so easily. Either he knew nothing about the case or he was a very good actor.

Bill abruptly rose to his feet.

‘Thank you very much for your help, Mr Coulter.’

The man’s jaw dropped. ‘That’s it?’

‘Yes.’

Coulter’s eyes darted between Bill and Magnus. ‘Where did you find Daisy?’

‘What makes you think we found it?’

A flash of fury sparked in Coulter’s eyes, but his tone was nonchalant when he answered.

‘Daisy’s mother would have told you who made her, so you didn’t get Daisy from her.’

Coulter was no fool.

‘What was her name?’ said Bill.

‘Who?’

‘The woman who ordered the doll.’

Coulter looked like a man who was back in charge. ‘I only remember the dolls’ names.’

‘I can check with prison records to find out where it was sent.’

‘You do that, Officer.’

Magnus wondered if it was all over. Each man was silent, waiting for the other to speak. Magnus watched Coulter closely. He could sense the adrenalin surging through the man, the air around him sizzled with it.