‘And when you’d strangled them, did Edgar skin their faces and scalp them for you?’

She held up a hand, showed the flat of it to Clay. ‘Stop it.’

‘Did he treat their skins with formaldehyde, glutaraldehyde and phenol to preserve them and make their skins ultra-soft to the touch, lifelike? £10,000 a time. You paid him for grooming the women over the phone, the women he went on to scalp. We’re checking details of his bank account right now, all those transfers of money from your account to his. We’ve got all the travel receipts when you paid for him to come back from Holland. True or false?’

‘True.’

‘But you didn’t want him to put his hands on Francesca Christie, did you? You didn’t want anyone else touching her, only you. Have you got anything to say about Francesca Christie? Because you can walk. You could abduct her. You’ve lived as an elective cripple for years.’

Norma Maguire’s hairline became a physical seam where beads of sweat started pouring down her forehead.

‘When you were admitted to the Royal all those years ago with spinal injuries, the first doctors to see you didn’t call it right. Edgar told us that your mother threw money at the problem and sent you to America for treatment and that it worked. You came back to England but refused to walk, refused to get out of your wheelchair in public. Why?’

‘I don’t remember.’

‘Did you love the attention you got when you were in a wheelchair?’

‘I – I don’t remember.’

‘Did you want people to feel sorry for you?’

‘No.’

‘Or was it just another layer of disguise?’

‘No. One moment I could walk. One moment I couldn’t walk. Life has fine lines.’

Norma Maguire looked up at Clay and she was reminded of a crab peering from the shadows of its shell.

‘There’s a psychiatrist coming to see you. To make an initial assessment of your mental state. The psychiatrist you see tonight will be the first of many to talk to you in the months leading up to your trial.’

‘I’m not mad.’

‘I know you’re not mad. You’re a cold, calculating killer who knew exactly what was going on and exactly what you were doing. You were envious of those young women and took their skins because you couldn’t bear their beauty in the middle of your view of your own ugliness.

‘You paraded around in their skins so you could drive your hostages into mental collapse. Another layer of disguise. You’re evil. You’re sadistic. But you’re not mad, and that’s the message I’ll hammer home to every shrink who asks me.’

‘Say something?’ said Norma Maguire to her solicitor.

‘Continue being as open and honest as you can be.’

The silence was as deep as it was dark.

‘Can you hear that?’ asked Norma Maguire.