The Scribe Read online

  ‘Yep. His name’s Justin. It’s early days, but he came into the bar, we started chatting and kind of hit it off. He’s twenty-six, a graphic designer. Smart and hot. I’m planning on dinner and a movie. What do you reckon?’

  Maddy affectionately patted Paul’s knee. ‘That’s great, I’m really pleased for you.’

  Had the circumstances been different, she would have squealed with excitement at his news. Cracked open some red, begged him to please tell her more, and when could she meet him?

  She’d been on at Paul about getting his romantic life sorted for ages. More than anyone, he deserved to be happy. But Paige’s death was still painfully fresh. After speaking to Carver, she’d felt shattered and dozed off; dreamt of a holiday she and Paige had taken together in Spain. The most fun she’d ever had. It had felt so real, as if Paige was still alive. The realisation when she woke up that she was gone forever had almost been unbearable. What’s more, the photos of Sarah continued to plague her, knowing that Paige had met a similar fate. All she could think about was the sheer terror and helplessness she must have felt. How her poor parents must be in hell right now. She’d thought about calling them but had stopped herself. It was too soon, and in any case, she wasn’t sure what she’d say besides the obvious, which, out loud, sounded lame.

  ‘Sorry, Mads, I suddenly feel like a bit of a twat bringing up my love life after what’s happened. It was inconsiderate of me. I know how close you and Paige were.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Maddy said. ‘I’m happy for you. And I’m glad to be out of your hair tonight.’

  They hugged tenderly, then Paul broke away. ‘I just pray Carver catches this maniac. I mean, if he’s targeting our year, any one of us could be next.’

  ‘True. But my gut tells me he’s only targeting female students who went on to practise. And it must be someone we knew at the time. I find it hard to believe a stranger would target our intake out of the blue.’

  ‘Do you think Stirling’s capable of such a thing?’

  Maddy shook her head. ‘You never know what a person’s like behind closed doors. I’m just thankful I never let the creep take advantage of me.’

  Paul brushed his index finger across the tip of Maddy’s nose. ‘You’re not the average girl, you’re in a different class.’

  She smiled at him gratefully, a warm, fuzzy feeling filling her insides. At least she still had Paul, even if Paige was gone. He, along with Rose, would help her through this. ‘Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  Chapter Nine

  Sunday, 2 November 2014

  ‘Here’s the list, sir.’

  Sunday, 9 pm. Carver was in his office, set apart from the main station floor, but with large windows allowing him to keep tabs on his team. He hovered from one foot to the other as he studied the flow chart he’d scrawled on one of several whiteboards dotted around the room. A victimology analysis. It hadn’t really told him anything new, but it was good to get it down in writing. It helped him think better, often inspired ideas lodged at the back of his brain but which had yet to come to the fore.

  He looked up, took the list from Drake, and quickly ran his eyes over it. ‘There’s a helluva lot of names here. Get someone to highlight every female, then find out what happened to each of them after finishing at the academy. I want to know who went on to practise, and where.’

  ‘Will do, sir.’

  ‘We also need to start questioning all academy personnel. Particularly those who worked there from 2009 to 2011. Surely, one of them must know or remember something helpful.’

  ***

  But they didn’t.

  Having spent much of the next day interviewing tutors other than Stirling who’d taught at the academy from 2009 to 2011, some of whom were still there, it transpired that none of them remembered seeing or teaching anyone suspicious at the time. And all of them had rock-hard alibis for both murders.

  Later, back at the station, Drake darted into Carver’s office. It was 7 pm.

  ‘Here’s the amended list, sir,’ he said, handing it over.

  ‘About bloody time.’

  ‘There were 130 females in the victims’ years. Two-thirds went on to practise law, and I’ve highlighted these in blue. The highlighted names with a tick and a comment next to them are those students who went on to specialise in areas associated with the subjects Maddy Kramer has suggested the killer might inscribe next. Thirty in total. For example, you’ll see that by Jennifer Madley’s name, I’ve written “Public”, because she became a government lawyer. Likewise, Stella Parker went on to become a medical negligence lawyer, so I’ve written “Tort” next to her.’

  ‘What’s Tort?’

  ‘It’s a civil action, concerned with remedying wrongs committed by one person against another. For example, if someone, say, a doctor, is negligent.’

  Carver smiled. ‘Have you been reading up on the syllabus, Drake?’

  Drake coloured slightly. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Nice work. But you need to get Kramer to confirm all this. I notice you’ve ticked her name.’

  ‘Yes. She’s a litigator, and litigation can relate to any of the four remaining subjects.’

  ‘That’s a worry. Go and see Kramer first thing in the morning. I’ve got a meeting with the Chief at 9 am. Report back to me when you’re done.’

  Chapter Ten

  Tuesday, 4 November 2014

  ‘DC Drake is downstairs, Maddy.’

  9.15 am. Maddy was trying to focus on a brief to Counsel, but she was preoccupied; consumed by thoughts of Paige, and what evidence, if any, the police had found. She looked up and saw Margaret peeping her head around the door. ‘Okay, thanks, Margaret. I’ll be right down.’

  She glanced at Jeff, who was eyeing her with concern. Or was it suspicion? He was a lawyer after all. ‘What does he want with you again?’

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing terrible,’ Maddy said, eager to set the record straight that she wasn’t a suspect. ‘I’ve just had a bit of a theory about the murders, and I suspect DC Drake’s here about that.’

  Jeff’s doubtful expression switched to one of amusement. ‘Well, well, looks like we’ve got our very own on-site Nancy Drew. Don’t let them turn you into a P.I. full-time. You’re too good a lawyer to lose.’

  Despite her low mood, Maddy laughed, secretly buoyed by the compliment. ‘Don’t worry, there’s no chance of that. Police work’s far too grisly a business for me.’

  Five minutes later, she was sitting on one side of a conference table with Drake, studying the list.

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked keenly.

  ‘You’ve matched them up well,’ Maddy said. ‘But I’m sorry to say that aside from Lisa Ryland, I don’t remember any of them. The academy was so large, they split us into small tutor groups, so I only ever mixed with my group. Which included Sarah, Paige and Lisa, plus Lisa’s friend – Marcia Devereux. She left after the first year and never became a lawyer as far as I know. And the others in my group were all blokes.’

  Drake tried to conceal his disappointment. ‘Okay, don’t worry.’ Just then, something occurred to him. ‘So, leaving the possible victims aside, do you have any ideas where the killer might strike? What I mean is, for contract, he chose a boardroom; and for crime, it was near the Old Bailey.’ The same keen look. Maddy could feel the hope, the determination to succeed, radiating off him. She wanted to help, but she couldn’t very well magic a solution from thin air.

  She gave him a sympathetic smile. He was kind of cute, but too wholesome for her. She liked them a little rougher around the edges. Just then, an image of Carver popped into her head. She instantly scolded herself for thinking such frivolous thoughts at a time like this. Snap out of it. She pinched her temples, willing herself to think. Then she picked up her pen and began to draw a table on the pad in front of her:

  Equity

  Public

  Tort

  EU

  Land

  Family co
urt (Royal Courts of Justice (RCJ))

  Houses of Parliament/ Supreme Court

  Hospital

  Any UK Court sitting as a Court of First Instance

  Business premises

  Wills & Probate Office

  Government building

  Home

  The European Court of Justice

  Residential premises

  Chancery Court

  Court of Human Rights

  Anywhere where an accident might occur? E.g., the road

  Any foreign office of the victim’s firm

  Land Registry

  When she’d finished, she put her pen down, slid the pad towards Drake.

  ‘That’s a pretty wide list,’ he said, raising his eyebrows. ‘How the hell are we going to second-guess any of those?’ He gave Maddy another hopeful look. As if she had the answer.

  But she didn’t. His guess was as good as hers. ‘We can’t,’ she said. ‘This is pure guesswork. Really and truly I don’t know where the killer might strike next.’

  ***

  Friday, 7 November 2014

  Maddy clutched Paul’s hand as they sat near the front of the church, watching Graham Summers, Paige’s father, try not to break down as he eulogised his daughter’s brief life. Despair clouded his face, and to Maddy, he looked like he’d aged about ten years since her death. The same went for his wife, seated on the front row, her other children’s arms wrapped around either side of her as her back juddered up and down. Maddy couldn’t begin to imagine what they were going through. It was every parent’s worst nightmare to lose a child, and their lives would never be the same.

  It was a drab, drizzly day, fittingly symbolic of what Paige’s death represented. Maddy, dressed in a demure black skirt suit, tried her best not to lose it as she listened to Graham praise his daughter’s kindness, spirit and intelligence.

  Ben, Paige’s boyfriend, was seated in the second row. His head bowed, every now and again he pinched his temples, as if trying to rouse himself from a nightmare. He’d been eliminated as a suspect. As Maddy had told Carver, he’d been away on business in Germany the night Paige was murdered, and this had been confirmed by the clients he’d been having dinner with at the time.

  They’d had to wait for the post-mortem to be performed before being able to bury Paige. Unfortunately, it hadn’t revealed anything particularly useful, only confirming that she’d been sedated with chloroform, then suffocated. No DNA had been found at the immediate scene. The only thing they had to go on was a set of footprints found near her body: Nike LunarGlides, Carver had explained to Maddy over the phone. In contrast to the first murder, where the killer had left no outsole impression. The obvious explanation there was that he’d worn brand new trainers or shoe covers.

  All in all, the police had so far drawn a blank.

  Later, at the wake, Maddy approached Ben, who was drinking his wine rather too quickly. ‘Hi, Ben, how are you?’

  In truth, he looked ghastly. He wasn’t strikingly handsome, but he was attractive enough. His voice was flat as he answered Maddy. ‘Holding up.’ He gave her a forced smile. ‘You?’

  ‘The same.’

  ‘I still can’t believe it,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I keep thinking, what if I hadn’t gone away?’

  ‘No, stop that.’ Maddy put her hand on his. ‘There’s nothing you could have done. Whoever it was must have been planning it for some time. It wasn’t some random murder. And neither was Sarah’s.’

  ‘What the fuck are the police doing, Maddy?’ Ben blinked back tears.

  ‘All they can.’ She leaned in closer. ‘Ben, did Paige ever talk about her days at law school? Did she ever mention anyone she liked? Romantically, I mean. Or, on the flip side, anyone she didn’t get on with?’

  ‘You mean that slimeball Stirling?’ Ben’s eyes became hard and filled with hate.

  His response surprised Maddy. ‘She mentioned him to you?’

  ‘Not in so many words. Paige sleep-talked. Every now and again, she’d call out his name.’

  ‘Did you confront her?’

  ‘Yes, of course. But she brushed it off. Said it was nothing, in my imagination. But then one time, after we’d argued and she’d had too much to drink, she accused me of being a disappointment, that the love of her life had got away, and that I’d never match up to him. I knew it was Stirling.’

  Maddy was shocked. She’d never have thought Paige capable of saying something so hurtful. But love could do that to a person, she supposed.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Ben,’ she said. ‘But I’m sure she loved you. You have to believe that.’

  Ben gave a limp smile. Maddy could tell he didn’t really believe it but appreciated her saying it all the same.

  Chapter Eleven

  Saturday, 15 November 2014

  It had just gone 9 pm, and Lisa Ryland was glad to be indoors. A savage wind rammed her kitchen window, rattling the pane violently as she poured herself a glass of Shiraz and brought it through to the living room.

  She should have been at a house party. But that afternoon, the hostess – Marcia Devereux, a good friend from law school – had called it off. There’d been no development in the hunt for Sarah and Paige’s killer, and so Marcia had had no urge to party. Neither had Lisa. Somehow, having known both victims, it didn’t seem right. They’d agreed to meet up and catch a movie the following day.

  Lisa hadn’t been close to Sarah or Paige. And since leaving law school, they’d lost touch completely. But she remembered them well. They’d had lectures and tutorials together, been on the same moot team. She also shared another common factor with them, but she refused to believe that he was the killer. Surely, he isn’t that insane? Surely, he has too much to lose?

  Even so, these common factors, frighteningly close to home, had been enough to unnerve Lisa. Especially when she’d received a call from a DC Drake, asking her if she remembered anyone suspicious at the academy, and warning her to be vigilant with the killer still at large. He’d also asked if she’d been involved with anyone there. She’d flatly denied it, of course. Couldn’t risk the truth being aired, ruining the reputation she’d worked so hard to build at the firm.

  Still, she shuddered at the thought of a possible serial killer, whoever it was, being out there, targeting young female lawyers like her.

  At times like this, she wished she had a flatmate. She usually craved her space; a free spirit who never committed herself to a relationship, flitting from one romance to the next, never short of male admirers. She knew her good looks made her irresistible to men. It was how she’d snared the professor that night. That one and only night they’d had sex. That night had been enough for her, even though he’d taken her teasing to mean something else.

  No, the ability to do whatever she liked, whenever she wanted, with whom she wanted, was how Lisa liked it. And it had been one of the best days of her life when she’d been handed the keys to her first flat.

  As a property associate at Blackfields Symes, Lisa had been involved with countless property transactions, but nothing matched the feeling of securing her own place in Camden Town. She’d always loved the area, with its diverse music venues, quirky markets and alternative culture. There was never a dull moment; no time to miss having a roommate. She was always too busy, either at work or socialising in the neighbourhood, to feel lonely.

  Even so, right now she could have done with some company. The vile weather only seemed to intensify the creaks and shadows that came alive at night.

  She switched on the television, tucked her legs underneath her on the sofa and flicked from one channel to the other. Nothing caught her interest; in fact, there was sod all on apart from inane reality shows, which she loathed. She decided to run a bath instead, taking her wine and a magazine into the bathroom with her. She worked so hard, she rarely had time for such luxuries, and it was high time she indulged herself.

  Ten minutes later, she switched on Capital FM, then sunk down into the tub, all
owing the lavender-scented bubbles to cocoon her body and relax her mind. Warm, soft, sensual. She reached for her glass, took a drawn-out sip of wine, then laid her head back, closing her eyes and enjoying a rare moment of tranquillity after yet another hectic week at the office.

  When she opened them, two eyes were looking at her. She knew those eyes. Black, like opals. She knew that face. It was unforgettable. But she was too shocked to scream. Even if she had been capable of screaming, she wasn’t given the chance. Before she knew it, her head was being plunged beneath the bubbles. Overcome with fear and panic, she held her breath, frantically grabbing the sides of the bath, thrashing her legs about wildly, water spilling over the edge and onto the bathroom floor, in a bid to extricate herself from the killer’s control. But it was futile. The killer was strong. The killer had the advantage.

  The killer didn’t let her come up for air.

  Until her lungs, clogged with water, were no longer capable of taking in air, and the fight went out of her.

  When she eventually resurfaced, the killer turned up the radio and switched stations from Capital to Classic FM.

  Then Lisa’s killer got down to business.

  ***

  Sunday, 16 November 2014

  ‘The press is going to have a field day.’

  5 pm. Carver had just bitten into a burger when he got the call. A big, fat mother of all burgers. The Big Tasty. He hadn’t even had the chance to chew the disgustingly delicious mixture of meat, cheese and relish. Savour the sensation of flavours on his tongue, the satisfaction of grease in his belly. He and Daniel had seen a movie in Leicester Square, and having managed to demolish a mammoth tub of popcorn between them, they’d been looking forward to ingesting yet more junk at the golden arches nearby. Daniel had barely reacted as he heard his father tell Drake, ‘I can be there within the hour.’ Accepting with good grace that he had no choice but to cut short their long overdue day together and drive him back home to his mother’s in Swiss Cottage. Happy Meal untouched, save for the plastic toy on top, which he’d excitedly ripped out of its packet as soon as they’d sat down. Carver thought how fortunate he was to have a son like him. But although Daniel’s gracious acceptance made him love his son more, it also made him feel worse about himself.