Stuart MacBride - A Song for the Dying

‘I told you…’ The scalpel came up, gleaming in the bright lights.

‘You worked at the hospital, had access to drugs, knew all the victims, and when they locked you up in the psychiatric wing the Inside Man stopped doing his thing.’

‘They should’ve let me die.’

‘There’s us, looking all over the city for home-made operating theatres when you had a perfectly good one, right here, all along. Volunteering at the vet’s. That’s why you always dumped the bodies in the wee small hours — you had to wait till everyone else went home before you could operate.’

Clattering sounded in the corridor, then Rhona lurched into the room. ‘Backup’s on the way.’

Ruth pressed the tip of the scalpel against her own throat. Tears shone in her eyes, bright as the blade. ‘Don’t!’

A pause, then Rhona put the Airwave handset away. ‘OK, let’s not do anything stupid here…’

‘All I ever wanted was to be a mother. To have something of my own to love.’

My crowbar-walking-stick boomed down on the stainless-steel work surface, setting it ringing, leaving a dent in the metal. ‘THEN YOU SHOULD’VE GOT A BLOODY CAT!’

She flinched back, and a little bead of blood formed on the tip of the scalpel.

‘Ruth?’ Alice appeared on the other side of the operating table, hands out — palm up. ‘It’s OK, you don’t have to do this. Laura’s safe, and so are you, and there’s still time to get Jessica to hospital.’

‘I didn’t mean…’ She bit her bottom lip.

‘It’s OK. I understand. Shhh…’ Alice’s voice got lower and quieter again. ‘Warm and comfortable and safe.’

‘I just wanted a baby of my own.’

‘I need you to put the scalpel down. Can you do that for me, Ruth?’

Her other hand pressed against her stomach, following the line of hidden scar tissue. ‘A baby in my tummy…’

‘You put the scalpel down and we can sit and have a nice cup of tea — all warm and comfortable and safe — and you can tell me all about it.’

The hand holding the knife jerked out, blade stabbing at the operating room door. ‘Why did it work for her ? Why didn’t it work for me? I practised . It should’ve worked…’

‘Wouldn’t you like that, Ruth? To finally tell someone everything? So it’s not just you any more?’

‘By rights, that’s my baby. Mine. I made it. I put it in her tummy. It belongs to me.’ Her chest swelled as she dragged in a huge breath. ‘THAT’S MY BABY, YOU BITCH!’

‘Shhh… Just put the scalpel down. Everything will be OK, you’ll see.’

Ruth’s hand trembled. She let it fall to her side. ‘It’s my baby…’

‘I know.’ Alice nodded. Smiled. ‘But it’s over now. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you.’

She put the scalpel down on the work surface. ‘Mine.’

I gave the nod and Rhona pulled out a pair of cuffs. ‘Ruth Laughlin, I’m arresting you for the abduction of Laura Strachan and Jessica McFee…’

Thursday

‘ … because it was my fault. ’ On the screen, Ruth reached up and scratched her nose. Tilted her head to the side until her ear touched her shoulder. ‘ I was a … difficult birth. If I hadn’t broken her inside she could’ve had more babies. Better babies than me. ’

Alice nodded. She was sitting with her back to the camera, a line of paperwork laid out in a neat row in front of her. Making notes in a pad. Whatever she was writing, it wasn’t visible from the downstream monitoring suite. ‘ They weren’t very nice to you, were they? ’

‘ I deserved it. I broke her. I was always clumsy. Walking into doors and cupboards. Falling down stairs… ’

Sitting next to me, Detective Superintendent Ness sighed. ‘We pulled her medical records. Had to dig a bit, but she’s got more X-rays in her file than any kid under nine should ever have. Arms, legs, ribs, collar bone, dislocated fingers.’

‘And no one bothered to call Social Services?’

‘ But you were going to be a better mummy, weren’t you? ’

Ruth sat forward. ‘ I was going to be a great mummy. I was going to love my baby all the time and cuddle them and never make them sit in baths of ice-water because they cried at night. It was going to be so lovely… ’ Her face fell. ‘ Then he came. ’

Ness took a sip of tea. ‘You never said how you found her.’

‘She used to volunteer at a vet’s. There was an abandoned one five minutes from her house. Operating facilities.’

‘ Was that the man you told us about? The man who raped you in the alley by St Jasper’s? ’

‘ I should’ve kept the baby, why didn’t I keep the baby? ’ Her hands came up to her face, shoulders trembling. ‘ I should’ve … should’ve… ’

Ness leaned forward in her seat, closer to the screen. ‘Consultant botched the abortion. Got struck-off eight months later for attacking a patient. Cocaine.’

‘ Shh… It’s OK, Ruth. ’

‘ I should’ve kept him. He would’ve been my little angel… ’

‘So, what are you going to do after this?’

I shrugged. ‘No idea.’

‘Jacobson tells me you’re a free man. Well, as long as you see your parole officer every week.’

‘ Ruth, I want to ask you about the letters you sent to the newspapers. ’

A frown. ‘ Letters? ’

Alice pulled one from the ordered stacks of paper. ‘“ Tell them to stop calling me the Caledonian Ripper, it’s disrespectful, they don’t understand how important my work is .”’

A small shake of the head. ‘ No. That’s… I didn’t write any letters .’ She reached across the table and took Alice’s hand. ‘ Why would I write letters? I just wanted to be left alone so I could have my baby. ’

‘ Oh… ’ Alice leaned forward and checked her notes. ‘ Ruth, was someone helping you at the hospital? ’

‘ Hospital? ’

‘ Where did you get the drugs from? The antihypertensives and the anaesthetics and the wound glue? How did you get the contact details for Jessica McFee’s patients? ’

Ruth shrugged. ‘ I just walked right in and used my old ID card. I thought they would’ve changed the locks, but… Do you think they’ll let me die now? ’

Ness stared at me for a bit.

‘What?’

‘You bear watching, Mr Henderson.’

Alice sagged in the passenger seat, hands in her lap, arms hanging limp. ‘Pffff…’

I took a left onto Thornwood. The windscreen wipers made lazy arcs across the glass. ‘I think Detective Superintendent Ness was trying to chat me up back there.’

‘Good.’ Another sigh. ‘You know, it’s not her fault.’

‘Didn’t think I was so irresistible.’

That got me a scowl. ‘Not her, Ruth . When she was four, her father explained to her where babies came from by sticking a plastic doll up her mum’s jumper. Told her that’s how it works.’

The traffic was thickening, like a blood clot. A long queue stretched back from the roadworks outside the Shell garage, the rain turning the car tail-lights into angry red eyes.

Alice let her head tilt sideways until it was resting against the passenger window. ‘Three weeks later, her mother was sleeping in the lounge. Ruth took her plastic baby doll and slipped it in under her mum’s cardigan. Said she wanted mummy to have another baby so she could be happy.’

I took a shortcut down the side of the baker’s and out onto Patterdale Row. ‘Well, that’s-’

‘She broke three of Ruth’s fingers and dislocated her shoulder.’