Ash and Bone

40

The doctor had checked Vanessa over, pronounced her bodily sound, waited while an officer took Polaroid photographs of the marks on her neck, then given her something to help her sleep. But of course she'd hardly slept at all. For half of what remained of the night she lay in bed, knees pulled up close to her chest, trying to blank out the sound of Kennet's voice, the coarse warmth of his breath. For the rest, she'd sat up in her old dressing gown, a blanket pulled round her, staring at the images that moved across the television screen. ITV Nightscreen. Skiing on 4. A signed edition of the Antiques Roadshow, especially for the hard of hearing.

'You're a lucky girl,' one of the officers had said. 'Dead lucky.' And then tried to swallow back his words. 'You did brilliant,' said another. 'Fucking brilliant.' Vanessa was not just thinking about herself; she was thinking of Maddy. Had that been him? Kennet? Had he done those things to her? She had never seen the photographs of the body, only spoken to someone who swore he knew someone who had, but she knew that as well as being raped Maddy had been cut badly with a knife before she died.

Lucky girl.

She was, she was: she pressed her face against the rough material of the blanket and wept.

Alerted by the senior officer at Kentish Town, Karen had arrived shortly after midnight and spoken to Vanessa briefly, enough to get an abbreviated version of what had happened, and arranged to take a proper statement in the morning. She'd considered phoning Elder and waking him with the news, but decided to let him slumber on.

At the hospital, Kennet had taken eleven stitches to the face, and an X-ray of his chest had shown three broken ribs. Now he lay in a side ward, sedated with painkillers and handcuffed by one wrist to the bed, an officer sitting cross-legged outside reading the Mail and trying to catch the eye of one of the nurses and scrounge another cup of tea.

Elder was finally put in the picture at seven and met Karen outside the hospital at eight. Ramsden and Denison were already there, the uniformed officer having been gratefully relieved.

One of the lifts was out of order and a porter was carefully positioning a patient on a trolley in another, so they took the stairs.

'Has he been charged?' Elder asked.

'Not yet.'

'Possibilities?'

'As it stands? Aggravated assault. Possession of an offensive weapon. Enough to hold him.'

When they got into the room Kennet was on his side, sheet pulled level with his chin, eyes closed. A nurse had just finished checking his temperature and blood pressure and was entering the results on his chart.

'Is he asleep?' Karen asked.

The nurse shook her head.

'Kennet,' Karen said, moving closer. 'Mr Kennet.'

No movement; no response.

Ramsden seized hold of the sheet and tugged it sharply back.

'Mr Kennet,' Karen said, 'there are questions I need to ask.'

Kennet's eyes had closed again.

'Is there any reason,' Karen asked the nurse, 'why he shouldn't answer questions?'

The nurse shook her head. 'The painkillers might have made him slightly woozy, but other than that, no.'

'I'll give him fuckin' painkillers,' Ramsden said.

Karen shot him a warning look.

'Listen, Kennet,' Elder said, leaning towards the head of the bed. 'Why don't you sit up? The sooner we get this done, the better.'

Nothing.

'Nurse,' Karen said. 'I wonder, could you help to sit him up?'

'I suppose so, I…' She faltered, for a moment uncertain. 'Mr Kennet, come along.' When she touched his shoulder, he shrugged her off.

'What seems to be the problem?' the doctor said, walking towards them. He was tall and bearded, mid-thirties, his accent from north of the border.

'These police officers,' the nurse said, 'they want to question the patient.'

'All right, nurse. Thank you.'

She wheeled her equipment trolley away.

'Detective Chief Inspector Shields,' Karen said, holding out her hand.

The doctor's grip was strong but brief.

'This man is charged with a serious crime,' Karen said. 'And we have reason to believe he can assist us with several more. It's important that we talk to him.'

'Now?'

'Now.'

The doctor lifted the chart from the end of the bed and gave it a cursory look. 'He seems to have been well medicated to control his pain…'

Ramsden snorted.

'If I can suggest, an hour or so might allow the more soporific effects of the medication to wear off and you'd likely get clearer answers to whatever questions it is you need to ask. Besides,' with a glance towards the handcuffs, 'he's not exactly going anywhere, is he?'

Outside, Karen spoke to headquarters on her mobile, while Ramsden lit a cigarette.

'Right,' she said, breaking the connection. 'We've got a warrant to search Kennet's flat. Mike, you get over there. Lee'll meet you there. Paul can stay here at the hospital. I'll arrange for him to get spelled by someone from the local nick.'

Grinning, Ramsden was on his way.

'How far's Vanessa Taylor's place from here?' Elder asked.

'Not far. She should be up to making a statement by now. Come on, I'll call her from the car.'

The traffic approaching the Archway roundabout was solid in all directions and they were stuck alongside an articulated lorry that was heading back to Holland and behind a people carrier ferrying half a dozen kids to school, several of whom were making faces out of the rear window. Karen fiddled with the radio, then switched it off.

'I don't suppose there are any witnesses?' Elder said.

'To last night? No.'

'Vanessa's word against his.'

'Pretty much.'

'And there are no injuries?'

'To her? Some bruising to the neck. Little else. Not a lot to pass round in front of the jury.'

'Maybe it'll look more spectacular this morning.'

'Maybe.'

'And the knife?'

'Forensics are checking it for prints. Hopefully he wouldn't have had time to wipe it clean.'

'You'll try and match it to the wounds on Maddy's body?'

'You bet.'

They slid forward another couple of metres. 'I thought Livingstone had sorted all this out,' Elder said.

'So he has.'

'I don't know how you put up with it.'

Karen smiled. 'I suppose the most you get's the occasional tractor?'

'Cattle. Sometimes a herd of sheep.'

'I don't know how you can do it, Frank.'

'What?'

'Live like that. Cut off from everything.'

'Everything?'

'Don't be obtuse. You know what I mean.'

The lorry turned off into the left-hand lane and Karen accelerated into the space, swung hard right, cutting up not one vehicle but two, then left again and down through the first set of lights, pulling wide round a 43 bus.

'You enjoy this?' Elder asked.

'Love it.' Karen grinned.

Vanessa was pale-faced and puffy-eyed. The bruises round her neck had intensified in colour. She made them coffee without bringing the water properly to the boil and the granules floated around the surface, only partly dissolved. Her account of the attack and what had led up to it was flat and emotionless, as if she were describing something that had happened to a distant friend rather than to herself. Only when she spoke of the moment Kennet had first jumped out at her, the knife to the side of her face, did her voice falter and break. Elder could see a faint red line traversing the skin.

'The man you reported seeing across the street,' he said. 'You think that was him as well?'

Vanessa waited a moment before answering. 'No, I'm not sure.'

'It hardly matters,' Karen said. 'From what you've said, it looks as if he was stalking you. Building up to last night.'

'Agreed,' said Elder. 'But if it was him, it suggests a pattern. Watching. Following.'

'You're thinking of Maddy, aren't you?' Vanessa said. 'What happened to her?'

Both Karen and Elder looked back at her.

'You think he killed her.'

'In the circumstances,' Karen began, 'we have to consider -'

'Oh, come on!' Vanessa almost shouted, suddenly angry. 'Don't give me that crap.'

'It's a possibility,' Elder said.

'It's more than a bloody possibility.'

'Maybe.'

'Sod maybe!' Flushed, Vanessa went towards the door, stopped and turned back. Nowhere to go. 'Kennet, what's he saying?' she asked.

'So far, nothing.'

'He threatened me with a knife; half-choked me. He was going to rape me.'

'I know,' Karen said. 'I know.'

'He was going to kill me.'

Karen reached for her hand, but she pulled away; crossed to the sink and turned on the cold tap and then nothing, simply stood there, watching it run.

After a few moments, Elder went over and switched it off. When he brushed her shoulder accidentally she jumped.

'We ought to go,' he said quietly.

'Then go.'

'Vanessa,' Karen said at the door, 'you should arrange to see somebody.'

'Somebody?'

'You know what I mean. A counsellor. They'll sort it out at the station, I'm sure.'

Vanessa stared back at her hopelessly. 'Don't let him get away with this.'

'Don't worry. We won't.'

Kennet was sitting up in bed, propped against a number of pillows, his recent stitches standing out like tiny bird marks along the plane of his face. Seeing Karen and Elder he actually smiled.

'Back in the land of the living,' Elder said.

'Just about.'

'Luckier than some.'

'There are questions,' Karen said, 'about last night.'

'You mean when I was attacked?'

'You were attacked?'

'Of course.' Kennet touched his fingertips to his coming scar. 'Bloke who stitched me up reckoned I was lucky not to lose an eye.'

'And Vanessa, what was she lucky enough to escape with?'

'Anything that happened to her, self-defence.'

'Wait,' said Karen. 'Wait. You're claiming she attacked you?'

'Of course. Asked me up, started fooling around, everything going along fine and then – wham! – swung at me with the bloody bottle. Out of nowhere.' He shook his head. 'I knew she'd been drinking, but not that much. Not like that. Out of control. If I'd known that I'd never have agreed to go back with her after the pub.'

'She invited you, that's what you're saying?'

'Yes, of course. What else?'

'The knife,' Elder said. 'What about the knife?'

Kennet looked back at him, all wide-eyed astonishment. 'What knife?'

'The one you threw away just before you ran full pelt into the bus.'

'I don't know anything about any knife.'

'We'll see.'

Ten minutes later Elder and Karen were standing in the corridor outside. Kennet had persevered with his story: Vanessa had been the one to attack him, breaking a bottle across his face, and any injuries she might have sustained had been a result of him trying to restrain her. In the end he'd left her swearing and screaming and headed home, so stunned by what had happened that he'd not been thinking where he was going when he stepped out into the road and got side-swiped by a bus. No hard feelings, he hoped she was okay, nothing much more than a thick head.

'How long d'you think he'll stick to that?' Karen said.

'As long as he can.'

'Any prints on the knife?'

'We can hope,' Karen said.

Elder was looking at his watch. 'Another twelve hours before he has to be charged.'

'Time enough.'

The doctor agreed there was no reason Kennet couldn't be released from hospital that afternoon. By which time they would have heard back, not only about the knife, but also have the results of the search of his flat. Time enough, Karen thought, was probably right.