The Reaper

DCI Fulbright raised a lazy hand to intervene. ‘I think we’d like to hear your side of things first, DI Brook.’

Brook noted the emphasis on rank and studied Fulbright’s face. Yes. He remembered him. He’d transferred from uniform and had been an untalented DC ten years ago. He could recall Charlie once tearing a strip off him for some bumbling evidence gathering. Now it was payback time.

‘Is this the bit where I cross my legs so you can see I’m not wearing underpants?’ Ross half stood and was halted by a more urgent hand from Fulbright. Brook beamed to annoy them.

‘Funny.’ Fulbright held out a hand and Ross passed him a piece of paper. Brook knew what it was but continued to beam across the table at his two interrogators. ‘I’ve got a report here about your psychological condition. This report was compiled in 1992…’-Fulbright shot Brook a glance which aped a concern he didn’t feel-‘…and refers to a, and I quote, “period of obsessive stalking” by yourself, DS Brook as you then were.’

‘Can you tell us anything about this period, Inspector Brook?’

‘Is the report not clear?’

‘I’d like to hear about it in your own words.’

‘Can you remember who you were stalking, Inspector?’ put in Ross.

Brook continued to smile but it was wafer thin. He took a pause to think then decided he had nothing to hide. ‘It was a long time ago. Sorenson was a killer. Only I knew it.’

‘You admit you went off the deep end on this guy…’

‘It happens in this job. I did nothing illegal.’

‘As far as we’re aware.’

‘If you’ve got something to say, get it said.’

‘Okay. You’re a fucking fruitcake, mate,’ sneered Ross.

‘I’m not your mate.’

Ross stood over Brook, baring his teeth. A blue vein on his shaved scalp stood out and distracted Brook. As yet, his personal space hadn’t been violated but he felt it was a matter of time. ‘You’re finished as a copper by all accounts.’

‘So you decide to right a few wrongs from the past,’ chipped in Fulbright.

‘You went to Sorenson’s house, forced a confession out of him, cut his wrists and took just enough dope to make it look like you’d been poisoned.’ Ross stood with a leer and went to stand behind Brook. ‘And you thought we’d swallow it. What do you take us for?’

‘Let me guess,’ Brook said, pointing at Fulbright, ‘you’re the good cop and,’ slinging a thumb over his shoulder at Ross, ‘he’s the really bad cop.’

‘We’re just honest coppers like you used to be. Asking questions that have to be asked. And answered.’

‘Harassing an officer who’s clearing up your old cases?’

‘By killing the prime suspect,’ sneered Ross from the back wall.

‘He wasn’t a suspect in either of those killings,’ Brook observed.

‘No. But you had him down for The Reaper.’ Fulbright looked down as if to check the details. He looked back at Brook with an expression of great sympathy. ‘I mean, we’ve all been there Inspector. We’re just the same as you. Flesh and blood. I saw what he did at Harlesden. And Brixton was pretty grim by all accounts. All these years the bastard’s been free to go about his business. It rankles, doesn’t it?’

‘Pisses you off big time,’ Ross interjected, as though his superior’s vocabulary was too obscure.

‘And it all gets too much for you. So you decide to do something about it.’

‘Just like that,’ said Brook.

‘It can happen in this job.’

‘But with your history it looks iffy, you making him cough for The Reaper. So you tag him for something else.’

Brook laughed and turned to Ross. ‘You still watching Sweeney re-runs, sarge?’

Ross leapt over to Brook’s chair and put his mouth next to Brook’s ear. ‘You think you’re the dog’s bollocks, don’t you, you toffee-nosed, university cunt?’

Brook felt hot breath on his neck. ‘I’m bored with this. We all know I didn’t kill him. He was terminal, for Christ’s sake.’

‘How would you know that?’ enquired Fulbright.

‘Mrs Sorenson told me and she will testify to that. In fact, she probably has already. I didn’t kill Sorenson and if you could prove I did, you would have charged me by now. You’re just blowing smoke. Let me see the video. I’m willing to bet Sorenson mentioned things about Laura Maples and his brother’s death that only the killer could have known.’

Ross and Fulbright exchanged a look. ‘You were the investigating officer on the Maples murder,’ rejoined Ross, ‘you could have clued him up, given him a script.’

‘And Stefan Sorenson? I was nowhere near that investigation and you know it.’ Brook stood. ‘Unless you have any intention of charging me, I’ll be on my way.’

There was a pause before Fulbright shrugged his shoulders. He stood too and motioned Ross to the door. ‘You’re free to leave, Inspector. This was just a friendly chat. It’s been good to see you again after all these years. No hard feelings, I hope?’

‘Course not.’

‘When are you going back to Derby?’ asked Fulbright.

‘Now.’

Ross opened the door for Brook. ‘I like your bird. Just my type,’ he added with a leer. ‘Nice arse, big tits.’

‘Bit tall for you though,’ Brook observed, passing him. The leer evaporated and Ross took a half step towards Brook’s retreating frame.

‘Sergeant!’ snapped Fulbright. ‘I’ll see the Inspector out.’

Ross managed to wrench a ‘Yessir!’ through his gritted teeth and stalked away, his fists clenched.

‘I see you haven’t lost your ability to piss people off, Brook.’

‘It’s a gift. Sir.’

Fulbright gave him a smile of grudging respect. He studied him for a second. ‘You’ve changed.’

Brook fixed his eyes on Wendy Jones walking towards them. ‘Oh?’ he said.

‘I watched you in Harlesden, moving round the Elphick family like you were measuring them up for a new suit. You didn’t give a shit about what happened to them, did you? I saw it in your face. But now you’re worse. Then you didn’t really understand what had been to done them. Now you know and still you don’t care. You’ve become hard.’ Brook turned to face him and their eyes locked. ‘Like a killer.’

Brook stared at Fulbright for a moment then smiled.

Fulbright held out his hand and Brook shook it. ‘Stay out of Dodge, Brook.’

‘How was it, sir?’ asked Jones on the way to the car.

‘Like you said. Just routine.’

Chapter Thirty-three

Brook buttoned his shirt and knotted his black tie. Immediately he loosened it. No sense being choked before getting to the church. He hated wearing a suit, he hated going to churches, but it was a funeral and McMaster had been very specific. The press would be there and the TV cameras. Nothing less than sartorial elegance would suffice-Greatorix was minding the shop while the division turned out to pay their respects to the Wallis family.

He checked his watch. Half an hour before Noble and Jones picked him up. He looked again at the Van Gogh propped on his sofa and shook his head. What on earth would he do with it? He knew he shouldn’t keep it. But getting rid of it could be trickier than hanging on to it.