The Surgeon's Blade (30 page)

So why wasn’t Robert making the most of it? Diana already knew from what she had been told that Libby was going to ditch her fiancé surgeon. When Robert talked about her, his fascination was obvious, but still he dithered.

That wasn’t all. The whole scenario seemed odd. Diana swiftly went through the chain of events; there was an attacker at Southampton General with a ‘liking’ for blonde nurses; Libby had been the subject of an intruder, who had wandered around her home for some apparent reason, and as a result, Robert had checked all her doors and windows making sure they were secure; Libby was attached to this surgeon, whose ex-wife seemed to stay for unhealthy lengths of time with him, making Robert suspect there was still something between them. Diana agreed with him over this. It was obvious, surely.

Then there was the hospital porter, Peter. Although Robert and Libby’s friend Jem said he was an ‘okay’ guy, he supposedly thought he had seen the hospital stalker during one night of an attack, and he had positioned himself at Libby’s house one day causing her a fright if nothing else. Now, according to the news and Robert’s own terse account, this Peter had been found dead. Moreover, he was found dead after his meeting with Jem
and
Robert was supposed to have been at that meeting.

What a mixed bag of events. As she thought more and more, Diana realised that everything was surely connected. Was Peter killed, or was his death an accident? Nothing had been disclosed by the police yet.

Sitting in the afternoon sun letting her mind wander freely over the recent happenings, Diana had another thought. If Peter had seen the attacker, then he may have been killed to keep him quiet. The attacker had suddenly become a murderer.

As the sun disappeared behind a stray cloud, Diana felt a chill and gave a shudder. She was sure she was right. There was something else that was niggling away at the back of her mind, which she couldn’t put her finger on. It just wouldn’t come. She gave a sigh. Maybe she would work it out later that day.

Diana heard movement in the house, and when she turned round, she saw Robert walking out to join her in the garden. He looked tired and strained, she thought, as he gave her a thin smile and sat down on the grass. She pondered over what he had told her when they had shared cocoa together. Robert hadn’t spoken to Peter that evening in the pub as he had been detained at the base. If so, why had his jeans been wet at the bottom?

“Any more news?” she asked, watching her clearly troubled cousin as he lay down at her feet. He put his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles in an effort to appear relaxed.

“Jem says the police are definitely treating Peter’s death as suspicious. The autopsy will prove whether there was water in his lungs or not. If there was, I suppose he was killed before he entered the water.”

Diana agreed, nodding. “That’s usual.” She let the silence between them grow as she finished her tea.

“I’ve just had an idea come to me.”

“What’s that then?” Robert swivelled his head round, squinting at her.

“Something’s been niggling me for some time. You told me Peter was a train fanatic as well as being pretty good with stage make-up.”

“Yes, so what?”

“Have you realised that the nurses at St Thomas’s Hospital in London have also been stalked and attacked over the past few weeks?”

“Ye–es. What’s your point?”

“Well, my point is, could they be connected? Or is it pure coincidence or even a copycat at work?”

“I get you. It’s possible I suppose – good grief! Are you suggesting Peter was the attacker all along? That he attacked nurses at both hospitals? That’s a bit far-fetched isn’t it?” Robert sat up, a look of horror on his face

“Probably, but all the same, he used to visit the London train stations to watch out for particular engines. St Thomas’s is not that far from Waterloo. He could easily kill two birds with one stone: visit the station and the hospital. He’s also good with make-up. Just a thought.”

“Except he’s now dead.”

“Yes, and it all depends on whether he was murdered or had an accident. Or, there again, he could have committed suicide, I suppose.”

“I don’t know, Di. An awful lot of people must commute between the two cities. There’s Libby’s lover or ex-lover for instance. He works here and in London, according to Libby. Wait a minute. He did lose his mobile at the time of one of the attacks. Now there’s a coincidence!”

Diana laughed. “I’m sorry, this is serious. It’s just that you’re so transparent over your feelings towards Libby’s fiancé. Why don’t you admit you’re in love with her?”

“I’m…not. And yes, Nigel is a complete and utter prick as far as I’m concerned. He has treated Libby so badly lately, ignoring her and then snapping his fingers when it suits him.”

“Pooh, I don’t believe you, and as for Nigel being a prick, so he might be, but there’s no reason to believe he has anything to do with this.”

The silence settled on them like a cape while they were lost in their thoughts.

“You sure?”

“Robert, nothing is sure until proven, but your theory is a long shot. No, I think the clue is in the stage make-up. The attacker didn’t want to be recognised. So the person must be local and well-known.”

Robert shifted his body on the grass. “I think I’ll go in. The grass is getting damp. Would you like more tea?”

“Yes please. I must wake Poppy, or she’ll never sleep tonight. I can’t wait for Steve to join us next week. By the way, have you spoken to Libby today?”

“No, not yet. She didn’t tell me what hours she was working today, but she’s bound to be there now. I’ll make the tea, and then give her a ring.”

Chapter 42

It was inconvenient, but it had to be done. The porter had seen the face of the attacker, albeit under stage make-up. There was something in his eyes, a look that told the attacker to be very, very aware. It would be unforgiveable to be identified now.

The game was nearly over. It was too bad that the final scene was to be played away from the water. That really was the attacker’s favourite place. No matter; in less than an hour it would all be concluded.

She would be mine to do with as I please, no one else’s, and that is what surely mattered
.

Chapter 43

Libby was barely awake as she stumbled from her bed. Her bladder felt as if it was bursting, and she wondered why her body ached so much as she staggered to the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, she was horrified to see bruises around her mouth and neck. As she examined them closer, it looked as if she had been subjected to a series of bites from a small dog. What on earth had happened to her? She tried to clear her muzzy head and think back to her last unobstructed recollections. There was nothing there!

Almost sobbing in terror, she teetered back to her bedroom and surveyed the scene before her eyes. Her bed was a complete mess with the covers hanging off, and as her vision cleared, she saw what looked like small spatters of blood covering the bottom sheet. What had happened?

Think! Think! She told herself. What can you remember last? She glanced over at her bedside clock and saw that it was early morning. The fog began to lift from her eyes as she noticed the silver bracelet and suddenly thought of Nigel. What had they done? What had he done to her, she corrected herself, wincing at the pain between her thighs.

He had called round last evening sometime around nine o’clock. They had been very civil and enjoyed a few glasses of wine, red wine, maybe even Rioja? Libby recalled Nigel slipping the bracelet on her ankle and running his fingers over her legs, kissing her neck, and then she couldn’t remember any more until she woke up just a few minutes ago.

She ran her hands over her body, flinching as she felt more welts upon her breasts and stomach. As she slowly realised what had happened, tears fell from her eyes. Soon she was sobbing, curled up in a small ball after discovering the evil her so-called fiancé had done to her.

~~~~~

How long she lay there, she couldn’t remember, but once she stopped crying the pain became more intense. The only thing she could think of, to ease her body and rid her of the humiliation, was to soak in a deep bath. Once she slipped into the silky water, she felt the dirt and shame begin to leave her. She scrubbed her hair and body, cringing, but never baulking as she endeavoured to wash away her degradation.

When she had finished, she felt a little better, and her embarrassment turned to anger. How could he? How on earth did he manage to trick her? As she replayed the previous evening’s events over and over in her mind, she realised Nigel must have spiked her drink. But why? It was true they hadn’t slept with one another since her return from hospital, but was he so depraved that he needed to possess her no matter what? Her thoughts turned back to one other occasion on his yacht. Hadn’t she woken then, confused and feeling out of sorts with vague aches over her body?

The pig! The absolute bastard! Well, he wasn’t going to get away scot-free this time. She would get even somehow.

~~~~~

Libby decided she needed a course of action. She had taken a bath and so washed away any traces of him on her. She didn’t know for certain how long a date-rape drug like Rohypnol stayed in the body, but she was pretty sure it was as long as 60 hours. Certainly long enough for her to telephone the police and get a blood sample taken. As she considered her choices, the tears began to fall once again. Never had she felt so miserable. If only someone dependable like Robert was here.

It was late morning when Libby finally roused herself. After her fresh bout of tears, she had fallen into a deep sleep. She put on a light dress and wandered through to the kitchen. Rommie greeted her with a loud purr as Libby opened a tin of cat food, enjoying the simple acts of stroking and having the cat rub herself around her legs. She felt the telltale pricking of tears once more and gave herself a scolding. Self-pity would not do!

Selecting a high-strength coffee capsule, Libby switched the coffee machine on. A strong brew was just what she needed. Food was out of the question, so she carried her steaming cup through to her living room and sat down on the sofa. She noticed a broken wine glass that had toppled over and a dried splash of red wine on the oak coffee table. Beneath the table, there were the slivers of glass shards from the broken glass. Libby tried to remember if she had broken it and when, but she couldn’t recall the episode. She picked up the pieces of loose glass in her hand and was about to take them into the kitchen for disposal when there was a distinct noise from her hallway. Slowly, with the hairs beginning to stand up on the back of her neck, Libby turned her head towards the sound. There in the doorway stood a figure dressed in a
doctor’s white coat: medium height, slim body, dark short hair.