Drawing breath, she swung round. Hangings, burnings, falls, gunshot wounds, knife wounds, apparent cult poisonings – it was all there. Some were old press photos, others newer and in colour, most taken from the Internet and printed off. More surprising was the love with which the images had been taped to the wall, each with a clear centimetre border, none overlapping. This was no desperate, disorganised fetishist. Whatever else was chaotic about RJ’s life, this part of it was where he channelled all his concentration, his excellence. His love – if anything so macabre could ever be couched in such idealistic terms.

There was a sudden further eruption of noise from the lounge. Ava dashed for the door, to find Tripp yelling across everyone.

‘Asthma inhaler. Locate it. Now!’

She fought through the crowd of bodies surrounding Bott and found the man gasping dramatically, if not convincingly.

‘Need an ambulance,’ Bott panted, leaning heavily on the officer at his side.

‘Or a better drama teacher,’ Ava muttered. Tripp gave what could only be thought of as an old-fashioned look. ‘Fine, let’s be cautious, call the paramedics in.’

‘Ma’m, he’s turning an odd colour,’ an officer shouted.

Ava stepped closer to him.

‘Mr Bott, you need to calm down and try to breathe in a more controlled manner.’

He rolled his eyes ceiling-wards and sank to the floor. Ava caught the slight smile at the corners of his mouth and fought the urge to knee him somewhere that would help to return him to full consciousness.

‘Paramedics’ll be here in one minute,’ Tripp notified her.

‘No rush. He’s faking it,’ she said, looking at her watch.

‘Are you sure? Only he seems to have passed out, ma’am,’ Tripp said, taking a knee at Bott’s side and feeling for his pulse.

‘Is his breath rasping now or has he relaxed?’ she asked.

Tripp leaned over and listened at Bott’s mouth.

‘No, breathing seems normal, actually.’

‘Neat trick,’ Ava said. ‘Rapid, excessive breathing. Made himself pass out. Buys time. Gives himself an opportunity to prepare for questioning.’

Standing aside as the medics entered, Ava forced herself to keep quiet and let uniformed officers answer questions.

‘He’ll need to be taken to the hospital and checked out,’ was the conclusion. ‘He’ll have to be stretchered out.’

‘Give me strength,’ Ava said. ‘Tripp, organise an escort and a guard at the hospital. Make sure he’s not left unattended at any time. I want to speak with the doctor who assesses him as soon as they’ve reached a conclusion about Bott’s stability.’

‘Got it,’ Tripp said. ‘Any other specific instructions?’

‘Only one. Get him into an interview room this evening at the latest. No lingering overnight in a hospital bed while he regains his strength. I want this bastard charged and in a cell before I go to bed tonight. Absolutely no mistakes.’

Chapter Thirty-Six

17 March