St Michael’s Psychiatric Hospital
Monday, 10 October 2011, 3.10 p.m.
ON THEIR WAY TO DR EBBS’ OFFICE, KATE AND O’Connor passed through long corridors that had long since lost their freshness. Tall sash windows dominated the structure, chipped high ornate ceilings, walls that were a collage of pale pink emulsion and hard laminated floors – everything about the building echoed abandonment. Kate wondered if the residents would consider that an apt description for themselves too. In the hallway, just before they reached the doctor’s door, a gold ornate mirror with black spotting on the glass reflected the two of them. Its intricate frame looked like the rest of St Michael’s, like something left behind.
‘Detective O’Connor, Ms Pearson, good to meet you.’
Dr Ebbs was tall and slim, his black hair balding from the centre, his face tanned. He wore a crisp white shirt and pink tie. He was handsome, Kate thought, and moved with the gentle elegance of a man who was self-confident, though not arrogant. O’Connor got straight to the point.
‘Doctor, Ms Pearson and I don’t have a whole lot of time here. We need to find out, and as quickly as possible, what, if anything, Ellie Brady’s disclosures have to do with our current investigation.’
‘I appreciate your frankness, Detective, but before I bring Ellie in here, I need to make a couple of things clear. Ellie is a long-term patient. I am relatively new to this institution, but as Ellie’s psychiatrist I took the decision to alter her medication a little over a week ago, reducing the level of benzodiazepines in an effort to bring Ellie out of her entrenched mindset – one she has maintained for a number of years. But what I must stress is that it is still too early to tell if Ellie’s emerging cognitive state can be relied on. She claims she saw the man who killed her daughter, but she is fragile, and I will monitor your questioning with one aim and one aim only, to protect my patient.’
‘Understood, Doctor. Ms Pearson and I will handle the questioning with due care.’
‘Thank you, Detective. Just give me a moment and I’ll go ask Ellie to join us.’
≈
Ellie Brady looked cautiously at both Kate and O’Connor as she and Dr Ebbs entered the office. Kate watched Ellie, taking in everything about her. Next to Dr Ebbs, Ellie looked drab. She was thin, with short brown hair tucked behind her ears, dressed in a grey shirt and faded jeans, both two sizes too big for her. Despite her shadowy appearance, Ellie held her shoulders back, like a woman who meant business, or at the very least like a woman trying to give the illusion of such. Dr Ebbs did the introductions. As Ellie sat down, she placed what looked like a child’s green copybook on her lap, both her hands rested on it.
‘Ellie, my name is Detective O’Connor. This is Kate Pearson. Dr Ebbs will be remaining with us while we conduct this interview, and Kate will be asking a few questions. Is that okay with you?’
‘Certainly.’
‘Good. Now Kate, would you like to take it from here.’
‘Ellie, hello.’
‘Hello.’ Ellie cleared some phlegm from her throat with a small cough, covering her mouth. Her voice sounded strong, but with the demeanour of someone who hadn’t spoken with strangers for a very long time.
‘I understand, Ellie, that you believe the person who killed your daughter may be the man we are looking for.’
‘There is no maybe about it. I’m sure.’
‘And what makes you so sure?’
‘Do you have children, Ms Pearson?’
‘I do, a son. He’s four.’
‘How would you feel if you lost him?’
‘Devastated.’
‘That’s how I was, Ms Pearson.’
‘Kate, please.’
Ellie kept her gaze on Kate, as if they were the only two people in the room.
‘I was devastated for a very long time, Kate. I still am in a way, but my thinking is clearer now.’
‘Ellie, why don’t you tell us about how you found Amy?’
‘It was early morning, before most people at the caravan site had woken. I had come back from visiting Andrew. Did Dr Ebbs tell you about Andrew?’
‘No.’
‘He was the man I thought I was in love with, my husband’s brother. I had come back after being with him. I checked in on Amy, and that’s when I realised.’
‘What did you realise?’
‘At first, I thought she was sleeping. She was in her bed, her hair plaited with two red ribbons.’
‘Like the girls in Dublin, Ellie?’
‘That’s right. She was wearing a silver crucifix. I had no idea where she’d got it from, but I think she’d had it for a couple of days. The ribbons, they were wrong. She didn’t have red ribbons like that. She usually wore bobbins in her hair. They looked odd too.’
‘How do you mean, odd?
‘I don’t know, old-fashioned. She lay above the covers, still in her nightdress. That was when I noticed how strangely she was lying.’