Chapter 15
Moira was younger than Brodie, with the same dark hair and sharp eyes but a softer manner that made her naturally suited to nursing.
She’d been at the Western General for fifteen years, working her way up to senior staff nurse in the cardiac unit.
Brodie had always admired her ability to maintain compassion and professionalism in the face of human suffering.
‘You look exhausted,’ Brodie said, studying his sister’s face. ‘When’s the last time you had a proper day off?’
‘What’s a day off?’ Moira managed a tired smile. ‘It was quite nice working at Mum and Dad’s café a couple of weeks ago. Reminded me what it’s like to deal with customers who aren’t dying or in pain.’
‘How are things with you?’
‘Do you mean, how am I after some nutter tried to kill me? Fine. Same as the first million times you’ve asked in the last couple of weeks.
’ She reached over and put her hand on her brother’s.
‘I’m fine, Liam, honestly. I’ve dealt with all sorts of emotions here, from sadness to fear.
It was just another day at the office. He can’t harm me any more, so I focus on that. ’
‘I’m glad. But if you ever need to spend the night, Ruth and I have a spare room.’
‘I know. Does Eric ever come over and spend the night?’
‘Not so much now that he doesn’t drink. I have to go over and see him again soon. It will be easier now that I’m back working in Fife.’
‘He lives forty minutes away, Liam. Not the other side of the world.’
‘I know, you’re right. But work is a bugger right now,’ Brodie said, knowing his answer sounded feeble.
‘Make the time. Tomorrow is never promised.’
‘I will, sis.’ Brodie nodded, remembering how his parents had always doted on Moira, especially since her marriage had started falling apart. ‘And Roger? How are things with the divorce?’
‘Finished with him.’ Moira’s voice carried a firmness that Brodie hadn’t heard before. ‘The paperwork’s going through, and I can’t wait for it to be final. Twenty years of marriage, and it took me this long to realise what a selfish bastard he is.’
‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out.’
‘Don’t be. I should have ended it years ago.’ Moira took a sip of her tea. ‘What about you and Ruth? Things still good there?’
‘Yeah, they are.’ Brodie paused, then decided to steer the conversation towards his real reason for visiting. ‘Actually, I wanted to ask you something professional. A medical question.’
‘Go on.’
‘In your experience, could a heart attack be faked? Made to look natural when it wasn’t?’
Moira’s eyebrows rose. ‘That’s a cheerful topic for a family chat. This for a case?’
‘It is. I’m just trying to understand what’s possible.’
Moira was quiet for a moment, her nurse’s training kicking in. ‘There are several ways, actually. Certain drugs can cause cardiac arrest that would be virtually undetectable in a post-mortem unless specifically tested for.’
‘Such as?’
‘Potassium chloride is the classic choice. Occurs naturally in the body, so unless the pathologist is specifically looking for injection sites and elevated levels, it would look like a natural cardiac event.’ Moira’s voice took on the clinical tone she used when discussing medical procedures.
‘Insulin can cause the same effect, especially in non-diabetics. Digitalis, succinylcholine – there are quite a few options for someone with medical knowledge.’
‘How hard would it be to obtain these substances?’
‘That depends. Some are controlled drugs that would require legitimate access through medical or veterinary channels. Others are more readily available to someone who knows where to look.’ Moira studied Brodie’s face. ‘Liam, are you investigating suspicious deaths that were ruled natural?’
‘Possibly. The timing of some deaths seems coincidental.’
‘Well, if someone wanted to commit the perfect murder, cardiac arrest is a good choice. Quick, relatively painless for the victim, and easily explained if the person had any risk factors – age, stress, lifestyle factors.’
‘What about detection? If someone suspected foul play?’
‘They’d need to order specific toxicology tests, and they’d need to know what to look for. Standard post-mortem examinations don’t test for everything.’ Moira finished her tea. ‘Is this connected to that serial killer case you’re working on?’
‘Indirectly, maybe. I can’t really discuss the details.’
‘Be careful, Liam. If someone’s been getting away with staged heart attacks, they’re intelligent and have medical knowledge. That makes them dangerous.’
‘Could a funeral director do that? Would he have the knowledge to be able to fake somebody’s death?’
Moira nodded. ‘Absolutely. They may not be as experienced as doctors, but yes, they tend to know about such things. It would be harder to get hold of the necessary drugs, but they’re always around hospitals.
They could walk about just like a doctor, and nobody would blink an eye.
Especially if that undertaker was well known.
It would be like, “Hi, Jimmy, how are you doing?” Or whatever name it was. You get the idea.’
‘I do,’ Brodie said, thinking about Thomas Mitchell. The man had probably picked up more bodies than he’d had hot dinners. He stood up, leaning over to kiss his sister’s cheek. ‘Thanks for the information. And take care of yourself. Don’t let them work you to death.’
‘Says the man who probably hasn’t had a proper meal in three days.’ Moira smiled. ‘Give my love to Ruth. And Liam? If you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.’
The drive back to Newhaven took twenty minutes through the quiet Edinburgh streets.
Brodie found himself thinking about Moira’s information, fitting it into the pattern of suspicious deaths that seemed to surround The Embalmer case: Mark Finlay, apparent heart attack.
DCI Alan McRae, was missing, possibly dead.
He had worked on The Embalmer case back in the day.
How many others had there been over the years?
Brodie started thinking about himself being on the case, not just then, but now. Was he in the firing line?
He took the lift to the flat he shared with Ruth, key turning in the familiar lock. She was sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine, staring out the window at the lights reflecting on the Firth of Forth.
‘You’re home early,’ he said, settling beside her.
‘I had an interesting day,’ Ruth replied, her voice carrying an edge he didn’t recognise. ‘I went to see Gabriel Kane.’
Brodie felt his stomach drop. ‘What did he say?’
‘He told me that The Embalmer has been planning to kill you for years. Everything happening now is designed to draw you into a trap.’ Ruth’s voice was steady, but Brodie could see fear in her eyes. ‘He thinks the investigation itself is the trap, Liam.’
Brodie ran his hands through his hair, processing what Ruth had said. ‘Kane could be lying, trying to manipulate the investigation through you psychologically.’
‘I went to see him. He didn’t ask to see me. What if he’s not doing anything but warning you?’ Ruth moved closer to him on the sofa. ‘What if The Embalmer really has been watching you and planning this? What if coming after me is part of his strategy?’
Brodie had considered it, especially after Kane’s warnings during their previous meeting. But hearing Ruth voice the same fears made them feel more real, more immediate.
‘I won’t let anything happen to you,’ he said, pulling her against him.
‘How can you promise that when you don’t know what he’s planning?’ Ruth’s voice was muffled against his shoulder. ‘Kane said The Embalmer knows everything about you, about us. Our routines, our weaknesses, our relationship.’
Brodie felt the weight of responsibility settling on him like a physical burden. Everyone he’d spoken to – Kane, his colleagues, now Ruth – was warning him about the same thing: that this case was personal, that The Embalmer had specifically chosen him as a target.
‘What do you want me to do? Walk away from the investigation?’
‘I want you to be careful. More careful than you’ve ever been.’ Ruth pulled back to look at him. ‘And I want you to consider that maybe your normal investigative approach won’t work this time. If The Embalmer has been studying you, anticipating your moves, then you need to do something unexpected.’
‘Such as?’
‘I don’t know. But Kane said something interesting – that love makes people unpredictable. The Embalmer has planned for Detective Chief Inspector Brodie, but not for Liam the man.’
Brodie considered this. ‘You’re talking about breaking protocol. Going outside normal police procedures.’
‘I’m talking about staying alive. Both of us.’ Ruth’s voice carried a determination that surprised him. ‘If this killer thinks he can use me to get to you, he’s about to learn that I’m not just going to sit passively waiting to be rescued.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means I’m not hiding, I’m not running away, and I’m not going to let fear paralyse either of us.
’ Ruth’s eyes held a fierce light. ‘Kane may understand serial killers, but I understand how the mind works. I understand how to find weak points in his thinking. And every plan, no matter how sophisticated, has vulnerabilities.’
Brodie felt a mixture of pride and terror. Ruth’s courage was one of the things he loved most about her, but it also made her more likely to take risks that could put her in danger.
‘Promise me something,’ he said. ‘Promise me you won’t do anything reckless without talking to me first.’
‘Only if you make the same promise.’
They held each other, both understanding that the comfortable normalcy of their relationship had been irrevocably altered.
The Embalmer, whoever he was, had succeeded in making them afraid not just for themselves but for each other.
That fear would paralyse them or make them more dangerous than he anticipated.
Brodie hoped it would be the latter.
‘There’s something else,’ he said. ‘I spoke with my sister tonight about the medical aspects of faking heart attacks. It’s definitely possible with the right knowledge and substances.’
‘You think that’s how Mark Finlay was killed?’
‘I think it was made to look like a natural death. I wouldn’t have thought that if his niece hadn’t been the latest victim of The Embalmer.
It’s too much of a coincidence.’ Brodie’s voice was grim.
‘If I’m right, we’re not just dealing with a serial killer.
We’re dealing with someone systematically eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth. ’
‘For four years?’
‘Maybe longer. The question is whether we can identify him before he decides we’re too dangerous to leave alive.’
Outside their window, in the distance over the Forth, Fife sparkled in the darkness, beautiful and seemingly peaceful.
But both Brodie and Ruth knew that somewhere in that maze of streets and buildings, someone was watching, planning, waiting for the right moment to complete a design that had been years in the making.
The Embalmer’s final exhibit was taking shape, and Brodie was a part of that tableau.