The Operator (Bruce and Bennett Crime Thriller 2) (41 page)

‘And these facial wipes. They’re hypoallergenic –
I know it’ll be difficult for you to really cleanse your face at night, and get
all your make-up off properly. You won’t want visitors to see you without your
face on!’

‘Er thanks.’ Faceless, Erica reached across to put
them in the open-sided compartment of the locker, fumbling a bit.

‘Shall I do that for you?’

‘No it’s OK, I can manage. So what’s it like,
being back here?’

‘Well some things are different of course. But
essentially it’s the same job. All those years, I was looking for someone to
look after me, and all the time, I should have been looking after others! I’ve
taken control of my own life, just as you counselled me ages ago.’ Tessa looked
radiant, brimming over with energy and idealism. ‘And of course, the Operator
has made a difference too. No-one is quite sure it’s really old Archer, however
mad and deluded he is. The doctors are all still jumpy, but it’s a good thing
really. They might think twice before throwing their weight about like Robert
did… So many stories coming out. Pathologist, struck off in one area, moves to
another, works as a locum, makes wrong diagnoses of women’s cancer. Some die,
others lose healthy breasts. He’ll have been dreading someone might do a
mastectomy on him. And that other chap who injected drugs into the wrong part
of a young patient’s spine, I bet he’s scared he’s on the Operator’s list. If
it isn’t Archer, that is. Of course we may never know for sure. I heard he’s
not likely to recover.’

‘Oh? I heard he’s improving. Will Bennett’s
talking about getting his statement tomorrow perhaps.’

‘Oh, Will’s been has he? Such a shame your hair
was still wet. It’s so lovely. We blondes lose half our looks with wet hair.
Would you like me to brush it for you? I know you’ve got one good hand, but it’s
an effort isn’t it? I could trim your fringe too…. I’ve got some scissors here
in my bag. Please let me do something for you, you’ve done so much for me! You
helped make me what I am today, instead of the victim I was.’

She loosened and began to brush Erica’s long,
thick damp hair, being careful not to tug any of the snarls. Erica tried to
relax; she didn’t feel comfortable being this passive, but on the other hand it
was soothing in a sensual way to feel the long brush strokes. She could feel
soft puffs of breath on her hair and skin as Tessa stood close.

Erica could smell her perfume, alien and exotic in
the disinfected air. She moved round behind Erica as far as the bed-head would
allow, and then went round to the other side, brushing with hypnotic strokes.

‘I hear you’ve got a doctor boyfriend. Hot, they
say. But too soft hearted for a surgeon. Like that’s a bad thing!’

Tessa took out a pair of scissors and leaned
across Erica to brush her fringe down over her eyes, it really was time it was
cut. She moved to kneel on the bed, at Erica’s right side, settling back to
keep her balance as she began to cut with one hand, the other holding the
brush. Erica felt the cold steel blades against her forehead. The cutting edge,
the points, against her eyelid as they snipped. She opened her eyes as they
moved, light flashing on the blades and Tessa’s ring.

Her face was very close, the small features, the
ash-blonde hair in a flatter, neater style, brushed off her face and tied back;
the carefully applied make up, English rose blusher, the pearly shine of her
full lips, her light blue eyes now just inches away, a slight frown puckering
the soft skin between her expertly shaped eyebrows. Little drifts of cut hair
winnowed down onto the sheet. Tessa dropped the scissors into her bag, then
gently brushed Erica’s hair again, the length of it, all around. Time slowed
down. They were close enough to kiss. Erica shifted, embarrassed by their
closeness suddenly.

‘Let’s have a look.’ Erica reached into her
locker, moving the magazines aside, bringing out her hand mirror. ‘Oh that’s
great Tessa. Thanks.’

‘Hang on while I brush out your fringe again. It’s
nearly dry. Then you can look again.’ Tessa knelt on the bed again, at Erica’s
right hand side, leaning across, gazing into her eyes now in an intense way,
the brush in her hand gently moving over Erica’s brow. ‘I’ve never had
children, but I do love to look after people.’

‘Well it’s not too late.’

‘But...you know I can’t.’

‘Tessa, your husband - I think he had a vasectomy.
He lied to you about your infertility. Another one of his twisted sadistic
games.’

Tessa flinched, one hand pressed to her belly. ‘No,
he couldn’t have...’

‘So you can still have a family. Most likely.’

 ‘But how do you know?’

‘Listening to people. Will Bennett’s checking it
out right now.’ If only he’d made the connection too. ‘But you knew that
already didn’t you Tessa?’

‘The post-mortem report,
Kingston’s medical records, it’s in there somewhere. You went through all those
reports with a fine tooth comb. I remember admiring your stoicism when Tara
told me.’

‘Erica, don’t. I’ve always admired you so much. So
strong, so in control. You’ve been a role model for me really. A bit of a
girl-crush to be honest.’

‘You already knew. I could see it in your eyes, so
close to mine, just a flicker before the acting kicked in. He got someone to do
a cheeky little private snip for him. Wouldn’t want it known. Let me guess,
Paul Chambers. Doing it behind your back, when both partners are supposed to
give consent and receive counselling… Chambers probably took his word for it
you were on board. Tara told me how shocked you were by Kingston’s reports, how
you said, ‘I wanted to be sure he didn’t suffer too much.’ He didn’t, did he?
He didn’t suffer enough.’

‘Erica, how can you say this to me? You’re my
friend. My therapist. You’re supposed to be on my side!’

‘I don’t want it to be true. But I have to know.
It gives you a motive to kill Chambers as well as Kingston; without that, it’s
less likely that you killed your husband. With it, you might have killed both
of them. Two arrogant men, making decisions about your life without consulting
you…’

‘Erica, how can you! You know, everyone’s saying
Archer confessed to you that he’d killed Robert, so...’

‘Archer only confessed to the catapult injuries; fracturing
Kingston’s skull with the golf ball. He didn’t seem clear about the rest, odd
don’t you think in a man intent on suicide. It was almost like he was worried
he’d done the mutilating, the other murders even, but didn’t remember it. And
if he’s a stone cold serial killer, why try to kill himself, instead of just
killing me? He broke my wrist yes, but only when I tried to stop him jumping.
The psychology of it’s all wrong. Shooting from a distance was much easier for
Archer, but the Operator liked his killing to be up close and personal. If it
wasn’t Archer, then who? Some avenging angel self-appointed to punish doctors –
but why start with Kingston? Why not some more high-profile blunderer? Chambers
had no public blot on his record, why him? Gupta was the first victim who had
been publicly accused, falsely in fact, of negligence. No Tessa, Kingston’s
death, and Chambers’, they were hate crimes, and nobody had better reason to
hate them than you.’

‘You know my sister is a solicitor, Erica. What
you are saying is libel!’

‘Slander actually. Go on then, sue me!’

‘You’re breaking my heart Erica.’ Her voice was
quiet and controlled. And sad.

‘Oh my god! Gupta was a heart surgeon. Was he the
one, Tessa? Did Kingston tell you he’d got Gupta lined up to agree you’d died
of heart failure if he decided to kill you? He probably lied about that too, by
all accounts Gupta was a good man, but why stop now you’d started something so
powerful? You could kid yourself you were doing it for the good of society, for
the family whose child died on Gupta’s table. ‘Giving something back,’ I think
you just called it. You’re dying for somebody to know the Operator is still
around, aren’t you? So the bad doctors keep shaking in their shoes… I bet you’re
conflicted about Archer taking the blame. It would mean you’d have to stop. I
bet you’ve got a database of all those negligence cases you’ve been reading
about. That computer course came in useful after all…’

‘Look at me, Erica! Do I look like a killer?’

‘No. You’re a fluffy blonde, sweet as arsenic pie.’
Erica’s voice was straining to keep going. Her throat ached. Keep her
talking... Archer’s life wasn’t worth a hospital sandwich if Tessa got to him
before he gave his statement. If only someone would come in, but Tessa had
timed her visit perfectly to hit the dead spot after lunch and before tea and
visitors. The dead spot. Out of the corner of her eye, Erica saw that her phone
had vanished from the locker top. Swept no doubt into Tessa’s bag with the
scissors. And ironically, Tessa had quietly put her call button out of reach
over the back of the bed.

‘I couldn’t have killed Robert. I was at Tara’s
all night.’

‘Do I really have to spell it out, or will you
tell me and save my throat? It’s just you and me here, after all. You went back
to the marital home that night, after your afternoon visit with Tara. Somehow. Intent
on getting in, I don’t know why. To kill him, to inherit his money before he
could change his Will? At some point Kingston went out the back door to chase
off the lads. Suddenly he’s flat out unconscious, whacked on the back of the
head by Archer’s little golf ball, shot from his catapult, but you don’t know
that, could have been the lads, he might have tripped, whatever. There he is at
your feet, in your power, the man who hurt you and mocked you and destroyed
your life and your self-esteem, helpless, injured but alive.

‘This is your chance to finish him off. You grab a
rock, hit him again hard over the wound to make sure. It feels good, but it’s
not enough though. The bastard still owes you.’

Tessa licked her lips. Her breath was coming
faster, a film of sweat oiled her upper lip. Their eyes were still locked,
Tessa’s baby blues and Erica’s sea greens.

‘You drag him inside and do the rest. You’re used
to barrier nursing. You’d assisted in surgery, and treated patients with
Ilizarov frames. You haul him onto the table, you’re used to lifting patients,
gym-fit and full of hell, you bang in the nails, his own surgical spikes, wearing
nitrile gloves and protection from Robert’s desk… risky, but you’d given way to
an impulse, like Archer did, but so much more hate behind it, even more than
his. Then you simply left, and went back to Tara and her children, dumping the
soiled aprons and gloves in a random litter bin somewhere.

‘And there he lies, dead, his hands nailed down,
the hands that broke your arm, nails through the brain that thought up clever ways
to torment you… but you’re clever too, aren’t you? Much cleverer than any of them
think.’

‘You’re insane! Tara gave me an alibi. And as for
Chambers, I was at the gym when he died, the police themselves saw me go in!’

‘Easy to look different, at a gym. What did you
just say, we blondes lose half our looks with wet hair? You trot in all high
heels and fluffed out blonde ‘do. Work out, then do a few lengths in the pool
so your mates upstairs don’t know whether you’re still in the building or not,
change into different clothes in a poolside locker, leave through the back, do
the deed, go back in through the front door, with wet hair slicked back flat
and in baggy sports gear and trainers, your whole look, even your walk would be
different.’

‘You’ve got some of it right. How I got out of the
gym without the police spotting me. Oh those blokes notice a cute blonde
strutting in and out, they don’t bother to look at a dowdy, wet-haired woman in
cheap sports clothes from Poundstretcher. The women in the gym didn’t know,
those upstairs assumed I was in the pool and vice versa.’

Actually hearing it from Tessa’s own lips shocked
Erica more than she’d expected. Tessa moved her left knee suddenly and quickly
to kneel hard on Erica’s good wrist which was lying on the bed in front of her.
The other was in plaster and a lot of pain. She shifted her right leg and used
her weight to pin down Erica’s legs, while her right hand held down the
plastered arm. She seemed to tower over Erica suddenly looking down at her
almost pityingly.

‘Shame you haven’t much voice to call for help,
and the button’s out of reach. Yes, I’m the Operator. I had Robert helpless,
dying, but I wanted more. I saw the pins on his desk, and remembered how when
Robert hurt me he’d say, ‘Don’t try telling anyone. They all think I’m Jesus
Christ, but you’d be the one crucified!’ His little joke. He’s not laughing
now, that’s for sure! Then I found out about the vasectomy. Chambers deserved
to die too. I’d gone through hell over my supposed infertility. So I went to
see him. No-one’s on their guard with me, but I’m stronger than I look. Handy
being a doctor’s widow, access to syringes, drugs of all kinds, sterile gloves…
easy to get nice and close to a man, then whack! And his own scalpel doing its
work, and his hands nailed down. No more mischief from him. It felt good,
better even than Robert. I realised, I’d been able to get away with it because
it was meant to be. Robert was delivered to me. It was already decided before I
started. The press called me the Operator. There was work to be done, people to
help.’

Erica was tired, hurt, and in shock. Being right
sucked. This time, for the first time, she’d much rather have been wrong.

‘I…’ her voice faded into a ridiculous croak.

‘Oh Erica, to feel that power! It’s such a rush… I
am
going to stay in nursing, I haven’t lied to you. I do want to help
people. I’ll get to hear all the gossip about doctors. Who’s under
investigation, who’s a bastard… I’m not a psychopath you know. The pleasure I
feel is a reward for the work, a job well done. I did go back to Robert’s that
night. Wore jogging gear. Hair covered up in a hoodie. Got a taxi from a rank
to a street the other side of the golf course. Jogged over it looking like a
youth. That same trick came in handy later on.’