‘The coffee was free but no, he didn’t deny anything about being there.’
‘So he coughed to murdering Ashwell and son.’
McQuarry raised an eyebrow and helped herself to coffee. ‘Damn, I forgot to ask him that.’
Dupree smiled. ‘And you think this Sorenson knew they killed the Baileys?’
‘We’re sure of it,’ said Drexler. ‘Why else would a rich and powerful man bother taking out those two lowlifes? He’s been flagging it up from the get go. He takes the rose petals to stuff into Billy’s pocket to tell us why the Ashwells have died. He writes some Wittgenstein on the cabin wall when he’s done, then starts quoting him at me almost before we’d said hello.’
‘Why the fuck would he do that?’ pondered Dupree. ‘We coulda looked at him for a while then moved on. Now he draws a lot more heat.’
‘Mike has a theory,’ said McQuarry with a hint of scepticism. Dupree turned to Drexler.
‘He wants the heat, Andy,’ nodded Drexler. ‘He wants the attention and for us to know he did it.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s some kind of Bored Rich Guy game. He kills Ashwell and his boy and is challenging us to prove it.’
‘More than that, Mike. He’s challenging us to care,’ said McQuarry.
‘And do we?’ asked Dupree. ‘Don’t give me that look, Ed. I’m serious! This Sorenson’s done the world a favour, far as I can see. Let’s give it a day then move on. Spend our time looking for some real bad guys.’
‘You’ve got a point, Andy. But there’s one thing I have to understand and it’s the reason we have to pursue this,’ said Drexler.
‘What’s that?’
‘Caleb Ashwell’s been bushwhacking folks on the Ghost Road for twenty years and not only did he not get caught, but no one actually knew that crimes were being committed.’
‘So?’
‘So how the hell did Sorenson know? How did he see what no one else has ever seen? How did he know to stop there? How did he know to pay cash? And how did he know not to drink the coffee?’
McQuarry and Dupree stared at the table. A few minutes of head-shaking later, they looked up at Drexler, who was waiting for his moment.
‘Okay, Mike.’ nodded Dupree. ‘Why don’t you tell us?’
‘There’s only one explanation, as far as I can see. This isn’t his first murder.’ Dupree and McQuarry considered the statement but neither could raise a counter. ‘Victor Sorenson is made of ice. He was looking for the Ghost Road Killer and because he knew Bailey’s route, he knew vaguely where to look. He’s a hunter. And a hunter knows how others hunt. That’s how he knew and that’s why we have to stop him.’
‘It’s bang out of order, sir,’ seethed Noble.
‘So you’ve said.’
‘You’re taking this very well.’
‘How should I be taking it, John?’
‘You should be sticking up for your division, sir,’ said Noble icily. ‘What about our reputation? I suppose you…’ He stopped in mid-sentence.
Brook stared at him, taken aback by this sudden glimpse of old grudges he thought had withered. ‘But I’m not from this division, am I? I’m an outsider who was imposed on it. That’s why I don’t care about its reputation. That what you wanted to get off your chest, John?’
Noble looked away, tight-lipped; Brook heard him mutter, ‘Not exactly … maybe.’
Brook sighed and looked around. ‘We shouldn’t be arguing in front of the troops.’ He walked Noble a little way from the house, although privacy of any kind was impossible. ‘John, look at it from Charlton’s point of view. Greatorix is on the sick list. And I’m in the doghouse because of Brian Burton’s book. I’m tainted, John. Past and present. There’s a long and well-documented history of my failure to catch The Reaper, on top of which…’
‘On top of which?’
‘On top of which … they’re here. And they’re already investigating a possible Reaper killing in Brighton,’ he added quietly.
‘What?’ exclaimed Noble. ‘What killing?’
‘Tony Harvey-Ellis.’
‘Who’s he?’
Brook nodded towards the Ingham house. ‘I’ll tell you later.’
Chief Superintendent Charlton had emerged from around the side of the house. His face was ashen and he appeared to be having a little difficulty walking, to judge from the attention he was giving to where he stepped. Brook fancied he was blind to everything apart from what he’d just witnessed. Behind him followed Hudson and Grant. The latter detached herself and headed over to the gap in the fence. She gazed across at the darkened house opposite before approaching a uniformed officer. Brook watched her, trying not to be obvious about it. The uniformed officer pointed towards PCs Duffy and Parker who were kicking their heels next to a Scientific Support van. Grant marched over like any good detective would. Talk to the first officers on the scene. Basic police work. It wouldn’t be long now.
Brook flicked his eyes back to Charlton who, together with Hudson, was approaching. Brook realised he had never seen the Chief Super out of uniform before. Minus his protective suit, he was soberly dressed and wore a large camel coat from which he now extracted a pair of brown leather gloves. He pulled them on, without breaking his sightless, unblinking stare.
On reaching Brook and Noble, Charlton finally managed to find his voice. ‘My God.’ He shook his head and squinted up at Brook suddenly. Brook gazed down into his confused eyes and fancied he detected a morsel of sympathy in there. Sympathy for the victims no doubt, but also some realisation of what it must be like for CID, at the sharp end, to have to deal with such sights.
‘We need a win on this one, people,’ Charlton said. ‘We’ve got to catch whoever did this. And not just for the stats. Who could do such a thing?’
‘How long have you got?’ nodded Hudson grimly. ‘Honestly, that was nothing, Chief Superintendent. One of the neatest crime scenes I’ve ever seen.’
‘Is it The Reaper?’ asked Charlton, fixing Brook with a look.
‘It’s a creditable copy,’ replied Brook, keeping a peripheral eye on Grant, who was still talking to Duffy and Parker.
Charlton nodded. ‘You can tell me how you know that later. What’s being done now?’
‘We’ve forty or so uniformed officers searching all the neighbouring gardens. I’ve got my CID team going door to door for witnesses, asking about the history of the Inghams, feuds, disputes, known enemies. The Forensics people are obviously doing their thing. We’ve got a scalpel as murder weapon and a mobile phone, which may have prints on it. We assume it was the one used to call emergency services last night so we’ll be getting the tape for that this morning. We’ve got a brand new barbecue, which may provide a link to previous Reaper investigations. It may have been delivered to the Inghams as a prize. That’s a Reaper signature to gain access.’
‘What else?’
‘The bodies will be going to the mortuary within the hour and Dr Habib has got his team prepared…’
‘What about the survivor, Inspector Brook? This Jason Wallis. He’s now survived two Reaper attacks, shouldn’t we be looking at him as our killer?’
Brook looked doubtful. ‘Sir, I wish it was that simple…’ Brook broke off as DS Grant rejoined the group. At first her face had carried an expression of confusion, but this had given way to satisfaction as she approached. She locked her gaze onto Brook, a thin smile curling her lip.
‘It’s not possible, Chief Superintendent,’ explained Hudson, taking up the reins. ‘The surviving boy must have been seated throughout the attack. That’s why the back of his seat is clear of bloodstains. It would have been covered in the arterial spray of the boy next to him if he’d been moving around, cutting throats.’
‘I see,’ nodded Charlton. ‘Then why was he here? And why did he survive? Again.’
‘Those, sir, are two very good questions,’ agreed Brook.
Grant continued to stare at Brook, an odd grin deforming her features. ‘Maybe he’s some kind of mascot,’ she offered, making little effort to remove her gaze from Brook.
Charlton turned to her with a painful expression on his face. ‘Is that meant to be funny?’
