Dead Man's Daughter Page 14

  ‘Yes please. I called her and she said it was okay.’

  ‘No problem. Come through.’

  Tom wheeled himself off in the direction of the consulting rooms, and I followed.

  ‘I don’t normally chase around after my mother,’ he said. ‘What must you think of me?’

  ‘You run a small clinic,’ I said. ‘Everyone mucks in. It makes sense.’

  He gestured towards a small waiting area outside Dr Li’s room, and I settled myself on a chair in the corner, partially hidden behind a plant.

  ‘I didn’t want to do cosmetic surgery at first,’ Tom said. ‘Let alone live with my mother. But it’s . . . complicated.’

  I wondered why he felt the need to justify his position to me. But then it hit me how I’d feel if I’d done major surgery in the past and was now doing cosmetic peels. I felt a pang of sympathy, and remembered how he’d seemed anxious around his mother. If she owned the clinic and the bungalow, he probably couldn’t afford to upset her.

  ‘I’m sure cosmetic surgery can be very rewarding.’ I hoped he couldn’t smell my fakery. I supposed it was true if you were working with burns victims or other worthy causes, but judging by the cars outside, he wasn’t.

  ‘Of course it can be.’ He blinked and glanced down at his immobile legs. ‘It’s not so easy for me to get another position now. But it’s best to focus on what you can do, isn’t it? Not what you can’t.’

  I made a non-committal noise, realising it was odds-on I was about to say the wrong thing. It was bad enough having to talk to Hannah about this stuff, never mind a man I didn’t even know. As someone with almost full use of my body parts, I always seemed to say the wrong thing.

  Tom showed me into Dr Li’s office. ‘Doing my receptionist bit,’ he said to his mother. ‘Maybe I should do this permanently.’ I couldn’t work out if this was a genuine suggestion, a dig, or something more complicated.

  Fen looked up. ‘Don’t put yourself down, Tom, it doesn’t help you.’ She turned to me. ‘He pretends he’s no good at anything, but he’s an excellent surgeon, he’s great with the patients, he does all our publicity, he does all the IT for the practice, he even sorts out the webinars for the psychiatrists I supervise – ’

  Tom butted in. His tone was sharp but he was smiling. ‘Okay, Mum, that’s enough.’

  I had no idea how to respond to all this. What did Dr Li want me to say? Look, Tom, I’m a detective and I’m telling you to stop putting yourself down right now! Tom reversed out of the room and saved me the trouble.

  Dr Li gestured towards her little chair collection. ‘Nice to see you again.’

  ‘Sorry to take more of your time.’ I sat down in the corner chair. ‘Something’s come up and we were wondering if you could help.’

  ‘Of course,’ Fen said.

  I passed her my print-out of the blog post about the immunosuppressant medication. She read it at impressive speed, sat back and said. ‘Oh.’

  I took my notepad out. ‘Is it possible the immunosuppressant could have affected Abbie? Maybe in combination with Sombunol?’

  ‘It’s certainly possible that the drugs could affect her behaviour. I’m not sure what exactly the article implies. It’s not clear what the side effects were.’

  ‘I know. We’re trying to find out more information. Does it ring true that the company would suppress details of side effects?’

  ‘I’m afraid it doesn’t surprise me too much. Although the article is a little histrionic.’

  ‘I need to talk to Michael Ellis, if only we could find the man.’

  ‘Is he not available to talk?’

  ‘He’s not an easy person to get hold of.’

  ‘Right. Well, if you want an opinion once you’ve spoken to him, let me know.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I swallowed. ‘And then there’s this issue about the memories from the heart donor. Abbie Thornton’s parents both seemed to believe she was remembering her donor’s death, but I can’t see how that could possibly be. Have you ever come across this before?’

  Fen narrowed her eyes. ‘Not personally. Some doctors do believe in cellular memory. There’s anecdotal evidence. I wouldn’t say it’s mainstream though.’

  ‘Right. What’s your view?’

  ‘I think there are other more likely psychological reasons for most of the observations.’

  I was relieved. Of course she wouldn’t believe in that nonsense. ‘Okay. Thank you. And just one other question. I’m sorry to hit you with all this bizarre stuff, but this is a really odd case. Er . . . is there any way Abbie could have been hypnotised to make her feel violent towards her father?’

  ‘Why in heaven’s name would anyone do that?’

  ‘We’re just exploring all the possibilities.’

  ‘I suppose it would be possible to give post-hypnotic suggestions to someone that they be afraid of their father, but no more than that. It’s quite wrong, this idea that you can turn someone into a mind-controlled zombie through hypnosis.’

  My phone rang. Fiona.

  ‘Sorry. I’d better get that.’ I accepted the call and walked out of Fen’s office.

  ‘I finally got in touch with that Michael Ellis guy.’ Fiona’s voice was clear, and I could hear the low rumble of cop-talk in the background. I pictured Craig bitching about me. ‘He sounds a bit paranoid, to be honest,’ Fiona said. He wasn’t the only one. ‘He refused to come in to the Station unless we arrest him. Says he’s worried about being followed. I don’t know if he’s genuinely in danger or not.’

  ‘Oh, great.’

  ‘He said if you want to talk to him, he’s at Eldercliffe Gorge now, but he won’t be there long.’

  ‘Eldercliffe Gorge? What the hell’s he doing there?’

  ‘He said it’s safe. He sounded scared, actually. I knew you were in Eldercliffe but you probably shouldn’t meet him on your own.’

  ‘That’s as maybe, but how long’s he going to hang around for?’

  She hesitated. I heard a laugh in the background. ‘I don’t know. Not long by the sound of him.’

  ‘I’ll go and take a look,’ I said. ‘I’ve got my radio and my phone’s fully charged. I’ll go now.’

  ‘Be careful. And call me when you’ve seen him, okay? He said he’s by the Destroying Angels. They’re rocks, I think.’

  ‘I’ll find him.’

  I pushed open the door and walked back into Fen’s consulting room.

  ‘I’m sorry. I need to go and see the man from the immunosuppressant company,’ I said. ‘They finally got hold of him and he’s in the gorge near Phil Thornton’s house. He seems to think people are after him. Of course if he’s paranoid, the accusations about the drug may not be true at all.’

  ‘Would you like me to come with you? It would be useful for me to meet him, if you need an opinion on his mental state. And I know that area.’

  ‘Oh . . . No, we need to keep our consultancy costs under control.’

  ‘I’ll only charge you for this meeting. I have no patients this afternoon, and I often take a walk anyway, to clear my head. Sometimes I even go to the gorge.’

  I thought for a moment. ‘Do you know what the Destroying Angels are?’

  ‘I do. They’re rock formations. I can show you where they are.’

  ‘Okay then, if you’re sure. We don’t know if he’s paranoid – thinking he’s being followed by his ex-colleagues – or if he really is in danger. So it would be useful to get a doctor’s take on it. I’ll run it past Richard but I’m sure it’ll be fine. Thank you.’

  Fen laughed. ‘It’ll be fine with Richard Atkins if you tell him I’m not charging for it. Obviously if you end up needing a formal opinion on the man’s mental state, there will be a charge.’

  ‘Of course. I understand.’ I gathered my papers and we headed out.

  ‘There’s a fascinating story behind the Destroying Angels,’ Fen said. ‘They’re more than just rocks.’

  12.

  The lane sloped perilously d
own from the centre of Eldercliffe, and was lined with cars jammed so tightly they looked as if they’d been slotted in from above by a crane.

  The village thinned into rocky countryside, and we finally pulled into a stony lay-by. I yanked the handbrake on hard and left the car in reverse.

  We got out and I took a breath of freezing air. At least it had stopped sleeting.

  ‘So you often walk in this area?’ I said.

  ‘Yes. I became interested in local myths when we moved to Derbyshire,’ Fen said. ‘Do you know the story about the children who were sacrificed to stop the young men going off?’

  I glanced sharply at her, picturing the statues in the woods high above us. ‘Yes. The children were burned in the house. And one went into the gorge. One of our DC’s told me. That was the story I thought might have triggered Abbie Thornton’s nightmares. But my colleague said there was something about the children’s mothers getting revenge.’

  ‘Ah, that’s the best bit. I can tell you about that.’ Fen headed for a path between trees. ‘It’s along here. You haven’t seen the Destroying Angels then?’

  ‘Aren’t they mushrooms?’ I didn’t admit that my botanical knowledge stemmed from an episode of Midsomer Murders.

  ‘Yes. The mothers of the girls who were sacrificed used mushrooms in getting their revenge. Well, that was part of it. They were determined to avenge the children’s deaths.’

  We headed down into the valley. The track was strewn with stones, and I was forced to focus on the ground rather than looking at Fen.

  ‘They were angry with their husbands,’ Fen said. ‘But they were most angry with the priest.’

  ‘The man who told the village to sacrifice the girls?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Fair enough. What did they do to him?’

  ‘They gathered wild mushrooms that are found in the woods around Eldercliffe.’

  We passed between moss-covered slabs of rock and emerged into the gorge. Limestone sides shadowed the river in its base. I peered up into the light, to where I’d been with Abbie at the edge of the woods. The opposite side of the gorge was even higher – right up in the clouds. ‘Wow,’ I said. ‘I’ve never been to the bottom before.’

  ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Fen swung her gaze side to side. ‘I think it’s as beautiful as Dovedale – maybe a touch more ominous. This section’s not well known. We’ve always had the place to ourselves when I’ve come here with Tom.’

  I looked along the valley. It was deserted, the only sound the gushing of the river and the cry of a buzzard high above. No sign of Michael Ellis. ‘So they gathered Destroying Angel mushrooms . . . ’

  ‘They cause a slow and painful death. But they didn’t give them to him immediately.’

  We took a path by the river and walked between the cathedral-esque sides of the gorge. After a few minutes, we reached a collection of rock spires jutting from the ground like huge stalagmites.

  ‘Carboniferous limestone,’ Fen said.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off them. ‘Are they the Destroying Angels?’

  Each spire was about the height of a person, and they huddled in a group as if they were whispering to one another. I walked over and stood in the still space between them. I tried to imagine them as the vengeful mothers of the poor, sacrificed children. Wondered what I’d be prepared to do to if someone had been to blame for Carrie. Someone other than myself.

  Fen stood outside the small group. As if she was reading my mind, she said, ‘Have you ever wanted revenge?’ She looked at me with clear, dark eyes, seeming to gaze right into me.

  I opened my mouth to answer, but didn’t know what to say. It was myself I blamed, not others. Had I tried to get revenge against myself? Was that even possible? I shook my head. ‘Not really.’ The last thing I wanted was a psychiatrist knowing what was going on in my head. She’d probably get me certified on the spot and shipped off to somewhere high-security. ‘What did they do to the priest?’

  ‘See there? It’s called Priest’s Hole.’

  Near the spires, an area of cliff was fenced off. I pulled my coat tight, stepped over to the fence, and leant over, peering into a hole that plunged vertically downwards, so black it made my eyes hurt. A smell of bats and damp wafted out. As my eyes adjusted, I could still see no bottom to it. My stomach lightened as if I was in a lift going down. I shifted back, and took a deep breath.

  ‘They dragged him all the way down here,’ Fen said, ‘and threw him in. It’s quite deep but there’s a good chance he survived the fall. So there was always the possibility someone would come with a rope and rescue him.’

  ‘Did anyone come?’

  ‘Not in time. And the women threw mushrooms in with him, and a sheep’s stomach filled with water, so he wouldn’t die of thirst. If he survived the fall, he’d have had to choose – either starve to death or eat the mushrooms. If he ate the mushrooms, he’d die in agony.’

  ‘Wow.’

  Fen stood beside me and looked into the darkness.

  I imagined the priest dropping into the hole, crashing onto the rocks at its base, possibly surviving. Eventually going mad with hunger and facing that terrible decision. I wondered if it had made the mothers feel better. Planning revenge must have been distracting. When the priest smashed onto the rocks below, did it hit the mothers that their daughters were still dead? That their friends, neighbours and husbands were still complicit?

  ‘The story goes that the priest ate the mushrooms and while he was dying in excruciating pain at the bottom of the hole, he asked God to turn the four women to stone.’

  I reached and touched one of the spires. In this strange place, I could almost believe it had once been a woman. ‘And you come here with Tom? Can you get here in a wheelchair?’

  She hesitated. ‘You can. It’s not so easy. We usually go to the top over there and look down.’ I followed her gaze up to the cloudy heights at the far side of the gorge. ‘There’s a car park.’

  ‘Must be an incredible view.’

  ‘When it’s clear. Tom likes to sit up there and look down at the Destroying Angels.’

  I peered up into the light, picturing the car park high above. ‘How did Tom become paralysed?’ I asked.

  ‘Car accident. Not his fault.’

  I wondered if that was why she was interested in revenge. Did she know who’d been responsible for Tom’s terrible accident? For him no longer being a proper surgeon, but instead stuck in his mother’s clinic botoxing rich, middle-aged women into attitudes of permanent astonishment. My dad used to drive too fast and I knew I’d never have forgiven him if I’d been in an accident and ended up injured. I imagined him unhurt, and me paralysed and suffused with fury that it was his fault – that his recklessness had ruined my life.

  ‘It must be hard for Tom,’ I said.

  Fen let out a small, weary breath. ‘He gets a little depressed sometimes. He got into a type of Chinese Buddhism and that helped for a while, but – ’ Her eyes flicked up.

  I looked along the valley. A man was heading for us, but his attention seemed to be all over the place, his head twitching up and down, side to side. It made me feel anxious just looking at him.

  As he neared us, I tried a reassuring smile. His lips flickered an acknowledgement.

  I stood and showed him my ID. ‘Mr Ellis?’

  ‘It’s Dr but call me Michael.’ His gaze flitted around the stones, the fence, the cliff behind. ‘Here’s okay.’ He walked a few steps towards the cliff. ‘We can’t be seen here.’

  ‘This is Dr Fen Li,’ I said. ‘She’s working with CID as our consultant forensic psychologist.’

  Michael looked at Fen through narrowed eyes. ‘Do you work with any drug companies?’

  ‘No. No, of course not.’

  A muscle twitched below Michael’s eye. Fen and I moved closer to him, so we were all standing near the cliff, out of sight of someone walking along the path by the river.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I asked.

 
‘I wanted to check I hadn’t been followed. Were you followed?’

  ‘No, I’m pretty sure we weren’t.’ A breeze rustled the branches of a tree which grew bizarrely out of the cliff above us. ‘No, we weren’t followed.’

  Michael gave an unconvinced nod. ‘It’s good here. We can’t be seen but we can check for people approaching. And I thought you’d know the place, what with Phil Thornton being killed up there in the woods. You probably think I’m paranoid. But I’ve made myself some enemies, and . . . ’

  I wanted to ask who his enemies were and what they would do, but for now I decided the best approach would be to listen and see what he came out with.

  ‘I’ll probably end up dead at some point.’

  I scrutinised his face. That was a dramatic accusation. I wondered if he could be psychotic. I was glad I’d brought Fen with me. Hopefully she’d be able to tell.

  ‘Who might kill you?’ I asked.

  Something rustled above us. I started and looked up. What was the matter with me? There was no way down from the top of the cliff.

  Michael lowered his voice. ‘Andrew Bond and his cronies. If I turn up dead, it’ll be them.’

  ‘Who’s Andrew Bond?’

  ‘I used to work with him. But he won’t face the truth. Wants me silenced.’

  ‘If you have concerns like this,’ I said. ‘You need to let us help you. If he’s been threatening you . . . ’

  ‘It won’t do any good. Please . . . ’ He wiped his face with a dirty hand. ‘Please keep my details confidential.’

  ‘We’ll keep your details confidential.’

  ‘Okay. I hope I won’t regret this.’

  ‘We appreciate it. Would you be able to tell us about Immunoxifan? We read a blog post that suggested it had some bad side effects.’

  ‘This is because Abbie Thornton killed her father, I assume?’ Michael jiggled his leg up and down as he stood, and his gaze continued to dart around.

  There was an uncomfortable silence. ‘I’m afraid I can’t talk about it,’ I said.

  ‘But you want me to talk? You want me to put myself in danger?’ He rubbed his temple as if trying to get rid of a headache. ‘I already know what was going on with Abbie. I’ve spoken to the Thorntons. They contacted me, remember? I know all about the girl’s dreams. You got my number from his phone didn’t you?’