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“Thank you.”
Ashford reaches into her bag and pulls out a tatty-looking notebook. “You said your name is Carly? Could I have your last name please?”
Nick holds up his hand. “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute; before we go down that road, perhaps you’d like to tell us what this is all about?”
Holmes wipes the corners of his mouth. “Now there’s no cause for alarm, sir. We just want to ask you a few questions, that’s all.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Look, I’ll cut to the chase, Dr Craven—”
“Please, call me Nick.”
“Okay, Nick. We’re here about Jessica Kemp-Barton.”
I cast my eyes downward; my pulse is booming in my ears.Shit!Looking up at the ceiling, I take in a lot of air to calm my racing heart.
“Terrible, terrible business,” Nick says, shaking his head sadly. “That poor girl. My heart goes out to her family, really it does. Have you had any luck apprehending her killer yet?”
Holmes and Ashford exchange glances. “We’re not at liberty to comment,” Holmes replies, “but suffice to say, we are still exploring several lines of enquiry.”
“I see.”
Ashford starts writing in her notebook while Holmes continues: “I think we should start by establishing the nature of your relationship with the deceased. Exactly how long did you know Jessica Kemp-Barton?”
“Let’s see, she was my patient for about, oh, let me think, about a month.”
Ashford looks up from her notebook. “What were you treating her for?”
“I’m afraid patient confidentiality prevents me from revealing that sort of information.”
“That’s quite all right,” Holmes says. “We have other ways to verify that without compromising your professionalism. So what kind of a relationship did you have with her?”
“I don’t know if you could describe it as a relationship,” Nick replies. “My association with Jessica was very brief: our time together equates to a total of three one-hour sessions at my office in Harley Street, during which she revealed very little about herself. Oh, I knew the basics, of course—that she was mother to a four year old girl, that she was an actress—that sort of thing. But nothing too personal.”
As Nick speaks, Ashford stares at his lips and she keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs. I can tell she’s getting wet. There’s a hunger on her face I know all too well; the same hunger I saw on my mother’s face the first day she met him. That same crazy magnetism that seems to pull every women to him. The question is, will Ashford’s attraction to Nick help or hinder the interrogation?
“Anything else?” Holmes presses.
“No,” Nick replies airily.
“Did Jessica ever mention anything to you about her boyfriend, Benedict Lewis?”
“No. Like I said, we never spoke about anything personal.” Nick pauses. “Look, I don’t know what else you want me to say. Jessica was my patient, I saw her for a total of three hours, and that’s about it.”
“Was her treatment successful?” Ashford asks.
“Not really,” Nick admits. “I decided to end Jessica’s treatment early because we weren’t making much progress and there didn’t seem any point wasting her money.”
“Who’s decision was it to end the treatment?” Holmes prods. “Yours or Jessica’s?”
“It was a mutual decision. We both decided that there was nothing further I could do for her.”
There’s short, uncomfortable silence.
Holmes stares intently at Nick. It’s like he’s trying to read him, work him out. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else you want to add?”
Nick shakes his head. “No. I think that’s about everything.”
“Just for the record, whatwereyour whereabouts on the 24thNovember, round about midnight?”
Nick looks at the floor. “Wow, let me think. The 24thwas a Tuesday, right?”
