The Reborn (41 page)

‘When you met her.’

He assumed a puzzled expression. ‘I told you, I haven’t met her. She just writes to me. Lovely letters.’

‘You met her two years ago, when she was fifteen. Her real name is Alexandra Stewart-Smith.’

He sniggered. ‘So I pulled a posh bird. More than one if you count Rose Petal.’ He turned to Magnus. ‘How do you feel about Rose Petal, Professor, now you know she’s been . . .
taken
?’ He leered. ‘I saw you take a sniff at her.’

Bill continued. ‘We know about your involvement in the death of Kira Reese-Brandon and the removal of her unborn infant. We know you ordered Sandie to give the baby to Geri.’

Coulter leaned back in the chair with an exaggerated sigh. ‘I’m a prisoner, in case you hadn’t noticed. I can fuck my doctor, but I can’t touch anyone outside these walls.’

‘We know you contacted Sandie using Dr Shan’s mobile.’

‘Rose Petal was so willing in so many ways. So keen to help me get better.’

‘Both Sandie and Geri will testify to your involvement in Kira’s death.’

This time Coulter laughed out loud. ‘My women don’t go against me. They love me. I make them feel special. You two should learn how to do that.’

The interview had provided them with what they wanted to know. From Coulter’s coded replies and heavy innuendo, it was obvious that everything they had thought was true. Coulter had manipulated and controlled Sandie and Geri from inside the hospital. But without a confession from him or the women involved, they had no case against him. It was utterly depressing. To add to it all, Dr Shan had provided Coulter with the means to carry out his plan. Magnus only hoped that what Coulter had said about a sexual relationship between him and Dr Shan wasn’t true. The doctor might survive her error in judgment over the mobile, but sex with an inmate could end her career.

56

Rhona was conscious that the only thing that would nail Sandie would be undeniable proof that she was at the crime scene, and that she had cut the baby out of Kira’s uterus, leaving her to bleed to death in that tent.

All the work, all the sleepless nights, all the endless thoughts, discussions and arguments, all the evidence they’d uncovered, circumstantial or otherwise, had brought them to this point, but now they needed concrete proof.

She was quietly confident, though, as she flashed the results of her latest investigation onto the overhead screen.

People always forgot their shoes. You couldn’t put them through the washing machine or send them to the cleaners. They didn’t burn easily. If they didn’t throw them away, then most people tried to wash them. But microscopic drops of blood got everywhere; wedged in the spaces between the upper and sole, between the rough grooves on the sole, between heel and sole. Scores of tiny places for it to hide. Much smaller than the human eye could detect, the droplets stayed despite all efforts to get rid of them.

Sandie’s red leather boots were no exception. Their quality had probably meant she had to hang onto them to allay suspicion, or maybe she’d thought she’d done a pretty good job of cleaning them. She was wrong.

‘I’ve identified blood from three sources on the accused’s boots,’ said Rhona. ‘They come from Kira, the umbilical cord, and David Murdoch. DNA testing of contact evidence on the cuffs and neck of the clown suit retrieved from the River Kelvin proves that it was worn by the accused. The outfit came from a fancy dress shop called Razzle, and an assistant there has identified the accused as buying it a week prior to the murder. Since the suit has Kira’s blood on it, it was the one worn that night. Inside the suit I found microscopic silk fibres, which match a silk scarf that Sandie wore at the funfair, according to Owen Hegarty’s account.’ The atmosphere in the room was electric, already verging on celebratory, but she wasn’t finished yet. ‘This trace evidence establishes Sandie was there, but it doesn’t prove conclusively that she was the one to operate on Kira. However, the knife retrieved from David Murdoch’s body
does
. As you know, the knife has a shark skin handle criss-crossed by leather.’ She clicked onto a photo of the knife. ‘We found a partial print on the leather, but it was insufficient for a match. However, when the leather was cut away, we found three items of trace evidence lodged beneath. Kira’s blood, blood from David Murdoch and – crucially – skin flakes belonging to Sandie Stewart-Smith, linking her directly to the murder weapon.’

It was what they had been waiting for. Bill nodded over at her, beaming. She let the din die down before she continued. ‘As to who smothered Melanie, this has proved more difficult. We can link the knife to Melanie’s bedroom because we found a dentricle on Melanie’s clothes. However, Sandie had visited Melanie’s bedroom when she was still friendly with the Daisy Chain gang, so any DNA of hers we turn up isn’t admissible. We did identify David Murdoch’s DNA on Melanie’s mouth and arm, but not her nose, which we would have expected had he tried to smother her by hand. We know David vomited in the bath and it’s likely he attempted to wipe away his presence in the room using a hand towel, which is still missing. Forensic evidence, however, throws doubt on David’s death being suicide. David Murdoch was right-handed, but his hands were arranged on the shaft as though he were left-handed.’

They moved on to other evidence. CCTV camera footage was shown of Geri Taylor walking along Dumbarton Road towards Exeter Drive just after midnight.

‘She was picked up by three successive cameras,’ Bill said. ‘She was carrying a bag identified as belonging to Kira, which we believe contained the newborn. The bag wasn’t in Geri’s flat when we searched it, so I would like us to find it if possible. It would provide a link between Sandie, Geri and the baby.’ Bill looked to Superintendent Sutherland. ‘I believe we have enough to bring Sandie in and charge her.’

‘I agree, Detective Inspector.’

This time he had proof that the schoolgirl he was about to interview was a killer. He was satisfied with the outcome, but not happy about it. How could anyone be pleased to discover a seventeen-year-old girl had murdered three people? He recalled Sandie’s mother sitting across the desk from him, anxious to help her daughter; her sudden realisation that what she’d told him might have condemned her instead.

He turned in his chair to look out of the window. What would he be feeling now if one of his kids had been murdered? Or had become a murderer? He made a mental note to spend more time at home when this was over, with Margaret and the kids. Except they weren’t kids any more, not really, and neither was Sandie.

He drank the last dregs of cold tea and put his mug on the desk, then picked up the phone to call Margaret.

‘Is everything OK?’ She sounded worried.

‘I’ll be a bit late. I’m taking the team out for a drink.’

‘You’re charging someone?’

‘Sandie Stewart-Smith.’

There was a moment’s silence. ‘She’s only Robbie’s age!’

‘I know.’

The incident room was deserted, only the hum of computers breaking the silence. He’d sent the team to the pub and ordered DC Campbell to tell the barman the drinks were on the boss and that he’d be over later to pay. Only DS Clark remained.

‘Ready, Detective Sergeant?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

He spread the mortuary photographs out in front of Sandie. First Kira’s mutilated body, then Melanie, pale and unmarked, her body swollen by pregnancy. Finally David, a gaping wound in his chest. Sandie kept her gaze averted.

‘Look at them!’ he shouted.

She jumped, startled, and threw the photos a cursory glance.

‘Look at them
properly
.’ He spoke slowly this time, his voice low and harsh.

She turned her angry gaze on him, her eyes small and hard, then picked up David’s photograph and studied it for a moment, her expression never changing.

‘He thought she liked him. I told him the truth.’

‘What truth?’

‘That she despised him. That she made fun of him all the time in the common room. “My cocksucking disciple”. That’s what she called him.’ Her voice was shrill and bitter, the words clipped and precise.

‘When did you tell him that?’

‘The night he killed himself. He was drunk, mooning around the Hall of Mirrors. He started on about her, how he missed her. It was sickening. So I told him everything.’

‘What exactly?’

‘That she was fucking her tutor. That she was fucking her own father. I bet you didn’t know that, Detective Inspector? David was the only one she wasn’t fucking – that little fag!’

‘What happened?’

‘He started wailing. Said he couldn’t go on. Then I saw the knife and I knew. He was gone forty minutes before he found Kira that night. Plenty of time. He cut out the baby. He killed his precious Kira.’

‘Why would he do that?’

She looked at him disdainfully. ‘You’re all so stupid, I don’t know how you ever solve any crimes.’

‘You solve it for me then.’

‘He killed her because she was leaving him. Then he killed himself because he’s an idiot.’

‘And how did Geri Taylor get the baby?’

‘Have you asked her?’

‘She says God gave it to her.’

She laughed. ‘There you go, the silly cow’s off her head. She went wandering in Kelvingrove Park and found a baby. The baby David left there.’ She looked quite pleased with herself.

‘Let’s have my version now. You bought the costume because you knew Kira was terrified of clowns and you wanted to scare her. You hoped you could force her to leave the funfair. Once she was alone in the park you could do what you planned. But she ran into the mirror maze. You took your chance and followed her in. Then you knocked her out with chloroform that you’d stolen from the chemistry lab at school. You cut her open and removed the baby. You weren’t much good at Chemistry, but Biology was your strong point and you knew where to make the incision. You put the baby in Kira’s bag and took it to Geri Taylor, then you disposed of the clown costume by putting it in the backpack and throwing it in the river.’ He stopped, waiting for a reaction.

She sat back in the chair and folded her arms. Her expression reminded him of Coulter – mocking, arrogant and superior.

‘Unfortunately for you the backpack was found by kids, who handed it in. We know the clown costume was bought in Razzle in Sauchiehall Street, and an assistant there remembers you. Your DNA is all over the suit and all over the knife that killed Kira and David. We also found traces from its shark skin handle in Melanie’s room. You hated Kira enough to kill her, but why kill Melanie?’

She answered in a bored tone. ‘David told Melanie he’d fucked her at the party wearing the mask. She was disgusted. She went mad, screaming at him. He told me he just wanted to shut her up.’

She was good, he had to admit it. What she said made sense. David, mad with jealousy, kills Kira and disposes of the baby in the woods. When he admits to Melanie that he had sex with her, she mocks him like Kira. He puts his hand over her mouth to shut her up and smothers her instead. Without the forensic evidence to say otherwise, a jury might believe her.

‘OK. Again, here’s my version. You went to see Melanie. You had already killed once and found it easy, and she was the last of the gang still pregnant. You were out of chloroform and you couldn’t take any more from the chemistry lab, not after Kira; so you covered her face with a pillow. You had the knife with you, but something happened to stop you using it. I think David turned up and disturbed you.’ He saw a flicker of surprise that suggested he might be on the right track. ‘You knew David had been at Melanie’s and you knew we were looking for him, possibly in connection with her death. That gave you a great idea. Pin both murders on David and get rid of him too. You arranged to meet him that night, and he was so drunk it was easy. You stabbed him, then arranged his hands to make it look like suicide. The note was clever, but he didn’t write it – you did.’

Sandie half-smiled. ‘You’re making this all up. You haven’t a clue.’

‘What did they do to make you hate them so much? Didn’t invite you to their parties? Made fun of you? Wouldn’t let you into their gang?’

‘I didn’t
want
to be in their fucking gang.’

‘I bet Kira boasted about being able to do mirror writing. Another thing that pissed you off. That’s why you wrote on her hands like that. That’s why you drew a daisy on Melanie.’

They had been round the block with this. Even presented with the DNA evidence refuting her version of events, Sandie still sat there in defiance.

‘Is that what you told Jeff Coulter? That they were mean to you and wouldn’t let you play? What did he say? Screw them? Or kill them?’

She stared pointedly over his shoulder, lips pursed.

‘Jeff Coulter. Remember him?’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. I told you already, I don’t know him.’

‘You met him when you were fifteen. He screwed you. He likes screwing silly wee girls like you. I bet he said you were beautiful and clever. How much he loved you. Then he got fed up listening to his own baby crying and snapped its spine. He was locked up in the State Mental Hospital, and you wrote to him in there, told him your troubles. He gave you the solution. Get the bitch’s baby and give it to Geri, because he was sorry for what he’d done to her kid. He was a changed man. If you did that, he would know that you truly loved him.’ He paused.

She looked back at him, stony-faced.

‘Do you still have those letters, Sandie? I hope you do. Then your lawyer can show how Coulter manipulated you. How he persuaded you to do what you did.’

He watched as the mask slipped to reveal the face of a killer. The cold hatred she directed at him froze the blood in his veins.

‘Kira thought she could control everyone. She was wrong,’ she spat. ‘In the end, I controlled her, and the others. And where are they now?’