The Operator (Bruce and Bennett Crime Thriller 2) (42 page)

Erica thought of the ‘youth’ seen near Gupta’s
murder.

‘I wanted to get into the house without Robert
catching me. Oh I was a lot cleverer than you thought. I took some drugs from
the house when Tara and I were there, gave some to her to make her sleep so
she’d not know I went out. Then
I
was the lads, that night. Threw a few stones
at the windows. Yelled a bit. Robert comes storming out and I hide in the
bushes. Idea being, to sneak in behind him, hide in the house and leave later
when I got the chance, when he was asleep or out. Big house, and I knew his
routine. But I was terrified, Erica! Imagine that, terrified of him! But I just
had to go back. Then suddenly, a noise, and he just fell to the ground at my
feet, like magic. And my life changed just like that! But you deserve some of
the credit Erica. You helped me become the woman I am. You needn’t worry. The
Operator won’t hurt you.’

She reached down into her bag and produced a
nitrile glove. ‘See how useful it is to be a doctor’s widow and a trained
nurse. It won’t hurt, I promise you.’ She shook the bag almost playfully. ‘I’ve
got no nails in here!’ She manoeuvred her left hand into the glove using her
small white teeth to hold it.

‘Tessa, how will you get away with this?’

‘Why, easily, as always. Just like Robert got away
with breaking my arm. No-one knows I’m here. I haven’t gone back to work
officially yet!’

Erica should have known. The perfume, the
jewellery.

‘But I know this is a quiet time, I just walked in
in my old uniform – and a wig, which I whipped off just before I came in here.
I really did come to visit you, bring you magazines. Before I visit Harry
Archer. And that’s a mercy killing you know.’ She shook her bag again. ‘It’s
high time security was stepped up here. It’s not safe for patients. I’ll just
leave when all the visitors pile in.’

As she spoke, she pulled a syringe out of her bag.

Keep her talking Erica.
‘But why did you go back Tessa? If you were so scared of him? Why go back alone
without Tara?’

‘To get this, of course.’ Tessa held up her hand,
the one with the ring. ‘My Tiffany ring. Tara asked for my personal things, the
ones I’d left when I moved out in a hurry, but this one he said he knew nothing
about. Then when Tara was out of earshot, he whispered to me that he’d still
got it, but if I didn’t go back to him by the end of the week, it was going
down the toilet. My beautiful ring! It cost over five thousand pounds! I just
had to get it back. When I’d finished with him, I found it. I told Tara a
couple of days later I’d found it had been mixed up in the stuff he gave us
back that afternoon. My lucky ring! It gave me Robert, and then it gave me freedom
from him.

‘And now,’

Keep her talking! ‘So you entered and left by the
back door. But the front door was unlocked when I arrived.’

‘You do like your t’s crossed! Yes well I knew it
was the cleaner’s holiday - shame really, I’d love her to have found him, the
foul bitch. She worshipped Robert! Anyway, I didn’t want to risk him lying dead
for days. Not very nice, in my house.’ An echo of Lady Macbeth. How practical
Tessa had turned out to be, when her material comfort or gain was involved.

‘And it was me who was his first appointment.
Lucky me.’

‘Yes, I saw your name on his list. I was glad
about that. I mean, knowing how strong you are, I knew you’d cope. Wouldn’t
want some poor old arthritis patient finding him. That would be cruel. Now I
must get on. I’ll just inject this where you’ve already got needle tracks from
the antibiotic. In your left arm I think. I won’t tell you what it is, but it’s
painless as I said. I hadn’t planned this, but I can use a pillow for poor old
Harry. I nicked this stuff from Robert’s stash. He might have killed me with it
one day.’

Erica felt sad as much as frightened. Weary. She’d
fought for her life against the North Sea, against Archer, and now she’d have
to do it again. This was someone she knew, someone she’d tried to protect. But
she’d have to fight, if only to leave some forensic evidence. Some of Tessa’s
DNA had to be found somewhere on her whatever the outcome.

‘Do you think I’m just going to lie here and take
it? If we fight, it’ll not look like natural causes, will it?’ Her right arm
had gone numb. Why didn’t someone come in?

Tessa looked down at her, still pretty, smiling.
She stroked Erica’s cheek. Her hand with the nitrile skin felt smooth and dead.
‘I’d really rather not do this Erica. Honestly.’

Tessa was strong. And she hadn’t just fought the sea.
Her left hand would be free to plunge the syringe into Erica’s injured arm just
above the plaster cast, holding it still with her right hand.

 ‘Tessa, you say you’ve taken control, but can’t
you see you’re out of control? Can’t you see what you’ve turned into? Can’t you
see you’ve turned into something worse than Robert Kingston! You’re not fit to
have a child!’

Anger flared in the soft blue eyes for the first
time. She grabbed for Erica’s neck with her free hand.

‘Don’t make me want to hurt you!’ she grunted.
Erica twisted her head down to her shoulder, and her hair, long and thick, got
in Tessa’s way. She grabbed a handful of it and pulled Erica’s head up. She
writhed under Tessa, using the momentary relaxing of pressure, spread her
thighs and got her legs round her. She squeezed Tessa with her strong thighs,
trying to kick the backs of her calves though with bare feet it was of limited
use. She felt like she was being scalped. Giving up the neck hold, furious now
at her resistance, Tessa stabbed down with the needle, and Erica jerked her
left arm just enough to meet it with her plaster cast. A jarring pain shot
through her, but she didn’t feel the needle, as the syringe hit the floor.

‘I could have done this when I was doing your
hair, but I didn’t think I’d have to kill you, Erica, I really, really tried
not to! It’s your own fault! You could have let me go on! We could both be
helping people!’

She grabbed Erica’s plastered arm and started
smashing it against the bed bars. Erica nearly passed out but kept holding on
with her legs. Suddenly, looking across for the syringe, Tessa glanced inside the
open locker compartment and froze.

‘You treacherous bitch!’ she yelled, and in that
moment, Erica rolled them both off the bed, hoping Tessa would land underneath.
She did. Hospitals have high beds and hard floors. They lay on the floor
winded, Erica’s broken arm was in agony, and Tessa was getting a grip on her
right arm again. Someone help me, I can’t manage this on my own, please, Erica
prayed to anyone who’d listen.

‘Fuck me!’

The door banged into the bed, painfully ringing
through Erica’s head which was against one of the wheels on the other side, as
Stacey walked in and stared at the tangled mass of female limbs and mingled
honey and ash blonde hair struggling on the floor.

‘Eee, Erica man, nowt wrong with a bit of girl on
girl but why bother when there’s nee lads aroond to get turned on? Here’s yer
hairdryer then.’ She dropped a carrier bag on the bed, followed by a large
bunch of expensive flowers, dripping with water, and turned to go.

‘The syringe...’ Erica gasped, as she and Tracey
wrestled.

Stacey looked and saw it. ‘Hard core!’ she said
with respect.

‘Kick it away! Tessa’s the Operator!’

Tessa hit her hard across the face and started to
beat her broken arm on the floor. Stacey stood there with her mouth open for a
moment, then ‘Mint!’

‘Stacey, please help me!’

‘Nee bother!’

In one swift movement, Stacey had her phone out
and was filming the struggle. ‘That’s the Operator attacking Erica Bruce! And
me, Stacey Reed, to the rescue!’ she commentated. ‘Now haway ye psycho nutjob,
gerroff me mate!’

Stacey reached down and hauled Tessa off Erica’s
limp body, pushing her violently aside. The relief of having Tessa’s weight
lifted from her felt like heaven to Erica. ‘Be careful... she’s a killer...’

Stacey put her phone in Erica’s good hand. ‘Hold
this, man, and divven’t miss owt or Aa’ll kill ye meself!’

Erica was shaking too much to make an emergency
call one-handed, so she just followed the action as best she could as Tessa
turned and attacked Stacey, desperate and mad. This was a woman who’d killed
three men, who’d pitilessly mutilated them as they died at her hands. She had
nothing to lose now, desperate and at bay. She was fit, strong and insane, a
screaming, biting, kicking mass of murderous intent. Stacey was an unfit, lazy
smoker, but she was a Tyneside lass, veteran of years of drunken brawls and
beating up abusive lads in clubs and taxi queues, used to brutal close quarters
fighting, while Tessa had never faced a conscious uninjured victim. They
clashed together, Tessa grabbing a lump of Stacey’s puffed-up black hair, which
came off in her hand.

‘Ye bloody bitch, gerroff me extensions!’ And
Stacey launched a meaty fist which smashed into Tessa’s nose. Blood spurted
instantly, Tessa’s hands went to her face as Stacey followed up with a vicious
kick to the knee cap, and turning, an elbow to the belly before grabbing Tessa’s
hair, from underneath at the nape in case of hair extensions, turning her and
slamming her face-first into the wall. Tessa fell to the floor whimpering,
blood gushing from her nose. Stacey almost casually pinned her to the floor,
her knee in Tessa’s back.

‘This is the Operator, dangerous serial killer,
captured by me, Stacey Reed,’ she announced, looking round to the camera, just
as Will Bennett and Sally Banner rushed in.

 ‘Erica!’ Will sprang to lift Erica up and put her
on the bed, to Sally’s disgust. Sally grabbed Stacey and tried to manhandle her
off Tessa.

‘Come on now, that’s assault,’ she snapped.

‘Up yours Bizzy!’ snarled Stacey. ‘Aa’ve just
caught the Operator for yiz, and that’s the thanks Aa get!’

Erica was still filming. Stacey, fully roused to
ire, stood magnificent, solid as the Rock of Gibraltar (a local pub), bruised,
bleeding, scratched, hair awry, ready to take on the world. ‘That murdering
bitch was trying to kill Erica who found out her true identity! Crazy fucker’s
been killing doctors aal ower the place, and where were ye then, man, woman!’

‘Stop filming,’ ordered Will, reaching for the
phone. Erica tossed it feebly to Stacey. She’d earned her viral Youtube glory. ‘There’s
no firm evidence that this is true.’

‘Shurrup man! It’s true, isn’t it Erica?’

‘Yes it’s true and yes there’s evidence. Full
confession.’ Erica reached out for her voice recorder in the locker, which she’d
turned on when reaching for her hand mirror, and which Tessa had spotted during
the struggle.

Stacey punched the air. ‘Double fkn mint Back of
the net!’

As Will and Sally lifted Tessa from the floor, her
ruined face a mass of blood and snot, Stacey took a last shot and stopped
filming. ‘Fag break!’ and she charged out of the room. In the comparative
quiet, they heard a voice shout, ‘Nurse, NURSE! That’s the girl who stole my
flowers!’ and Erica laughed until she cried, her damaged plaster leaking powder
onto the flower-wetted sheets and her whole body shaking.

Erica lay on the high bed,
her wounded wrist by her side, fingers curling out of the newly applied plaster
like a hermit crab’s legs. Will had checked up on Erica’s idea, found out that
Chambers had indeed done a vasectomy on Kingston, realised what a motive it
gave Tessa for the first two murders, and returned to the hospital, though he’d
rushed to check on Archer first, assuming he might be at risk. She tried not to
think about the appalling aftermath of the struggle. Tessa’s arrest. What it
would mean for Tara and her family. The ongoing suffering of the victims’
relatives. Craig Anderson was recovering slowly. It turned out one of his
patients, who had refused conventional treatment on his advice, had died of
cancer, leaving a distraught husband and a young son.

 Under it all for Erica was the euphoria which
goes with survival, the heartless primitive glee of knowing we’ll see the next
lot of daffodils. It’d been a close thing, between her and Tessa, as between
her and the sea.

Six weeks, she’d have the plaster on. And she was
going home tomorrow. She studied a leaflet about a plastic sleeve-type
structure which formed a watertight seal over a plaster cast so she could
shower, and best of all, swim. Her near-fatal immersion hadn’t put her off
water, not even the salty kind. And she hadn’t gone off Jamie either. He’d been
very proper and hands-off while she’d been a patient, and Erica was looking
forward to being in her own bed again, with and without him. The thought of
Will Bennett intruded itself now and again. Standing there next day without a
mark on him, while there she was, a wreck, who had handed over the evidence
that tied up his case for him. And how did he thank her?

‘You see, Erica, I was right all along. I said it
was Tessa Kingston from the start.’ While Will enjoyed being right, even if for
the wrong reasons, he had to admit she had supplied much of the evidence and
the major jumps forward in the investigation.

They had looked at each other, and the chemistry
was still there. The feel of his strong arms and the blue of his eyes had
regained their appeal. Jamie’s cuteness receded in her mind. Why couldn’t she
have both of them?

Will gazed down at her. ‘Oh Erica. You’re a
mathematician, you have logic, if only you’d use it. You could make a fortune
doing a useful job with your brain instead of this homeopathy crap.’

If only chemistry, and biology, were enough. If
only Will could lose the power of speech instead of his appeal.