‘…an unfortunate circumstance which I can explain.’
‘We’re listening,’ smiled Grant.
Brook paused to choose his words with care. ‘I was first on the scene but I arrived too late. I was in the Wallis house before I realised what was happening. I got to the Ingham house a few minutes before PC Duffy and PC Parker. I surveyed the situation and secured the scene. When Duffy and Parker arrived, we called for back- up.’
‘But you were there first, Inspector, and we’ve only your word for how long you were there.’
‘That’s true, Sergeant. But I have no motive to kill the victims. And it won’t be hard to prove that I didn’t make that emergency call, which puts someone else at the scene before me. Also, you were alert enough to check my clothing this morning when you arrived at the crime scene. I would have been covered in blood if I’d killed the Inghams.’
‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Damen,’ interjected DCI Hudson.
‘You were at the crime scene alone,’ insisted Grant. ‘You could have changed, dumped the evidence before the responding officers arrived.’
‘Let me know when you find the clothes.’
‘That’s just it. With you as SIO we never will.’
‘That’s enough, you two,’ soothed Charlton. ‘DCI Hudson’s right. We’re losing sight of the main objective.’
‘Sorry, sir,’ said Grant. ‘But if we’re going to entertain the notion that DI Brook should be involved in this inquiry, let alone run it, then I think we’ve a right to know what the hell he was doing at the Wallis house at that time of night.’
Charlton thought for a moment then nodded, looked over at DCI Hudson, who shrugged his agreement, and turned to look at Brook.
Brook put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. ‘I received this email yesterday.’ He unfolded it and slid it across the table towards the Chief Superintendent. Charlton read the brief document aloud, then passed the paper round the table for examination.
‘Who’s Victor?’ asked Hudson.
‘Victor Sorenson is … was a suspect in The Reaper inquiry in both London killings in the 1990s.’
‘Was?’
‘He died two years ago.’
Charlton, Hudson and Grant watched Brook and Noble leave the office. As soon as the door closed, Charlton arranged to have Brook’s office computer taken away, to have the hard drive examined.
‘You don’t really believe this email guff, do you, guv?’ Grant said to Hudson. ‘It’s easily faked.’
‘Give me some credit, Laura. It’s about as convincing as the evidence that Brook’s The Reaper.’
‘What does that mean, Chief Inspector?’ asked Charlton.
‘This email is a pretty terrible alibi and Brook must know that,’ Hudson replied.
‘So?’
‘So, we’re looking for a killer who’s been active for nearly twenty years and Brook must know his methods better than anyone.’ Charlton was still confused. ‘In all those years, a viable Reaper suspect has never been identified. The Reaper’s killed two families in London, one in Leeds, two now in Derby. Five crime scenes. And what did Forensics find at the first four crime scenes?’
‘What?’ asked Charlton.
‘Nothing,’ said Grant. ‘No fingerprints, no DNA, no witnesses, no CCTV, no fibres. Nothing.’
‘Add to that the fact that The Reaper has no clear motive,’ added Hudson. ‘Even a copper as good as Brook can’t beat those odds.’
‘I see,’ said Charlton, clearly not seeing.
‘And now we’re supposed to believe that Damen Brook, the man who has hunted The Reaper for all these years, is actually The Reaper. If so, he wouldn’t be caught at the crime scene with only a poxy email as an alibi,’ said Hudson, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it before Charlton could object. ‘If someone as smart as Brook was The Reaper, he would’ve been better organised than that, believe me.’
‘Okay,’ nodded Charlton doubtfully.
‘And that’s not the only strange thing. Suddenly there’s more evidence at the Ingham house than we can shake a stick at. I spoke to one of the SOCOs. The killer used a mobile phone to alert the emergency services to the murders. Not only have we got a useable print on it, but we’re going to have the killer’s voice on tape.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ said Charlton. ‘It’ll tell us about Brook one way or the other.’
‘Yes. But it also tells us that either The Reaper has got very sloppy or we’re dealing with a copycat, like Brook says. Whatever you think of him, Brook is a brilliant detective. Believe me, nothing we have will point to him for this — nothing.’
Hudson took a large pull on his cigarette and exhaled towards the window, suddenly aware of Charlton’s aversion to the smoke.
‘What about this Sorenson that Brook talked about?’ asked Charlton.
‘You’re welcome to have a look, sir, but if there was no evidence to prove Sorenson was The Reaper when he was alive, it’ll be ten times harder if he is dead. And it almost certainly won’t help you with the Ingham investigation.’
‘Unless we can trace that email, guv.’
‘Don’t hold your breath, luv.’
‘And can you think why someone would want to copy The Reaper?’ asked Charlton.
‘Good question,’ said Hudson; Charlton tried to hide his pleasure. ‘His methods provide a workable blueprint for anybody wanting to be a serial killer,’ answered Hudson. ‘After all, he’s never been caught.’
‘But it doesn’t fit the profiles,’ added Grant.
‘Profiles?’ said Charlton.
‘Serial killers fall into two categories,’ explained Hudson.
‘By definition, the compulsive killer can’t stop himself,’ said Grant. ‘He repeats because he has a compulsion, one which eventually trips him up, because he has to kill even if it means taking risks.’
‘And there’s often a sexual angle, which generally leads to DNA,’ put in Hudson.
‘Then there’s The Reaper. A killer like that is more organised and gets his kicks from power, not sex. He enjoys the fear of the public and the inability of the police to find him. These killers use their crimes as a secret well of omnipotence, to dip into when their self-esteem needs it.’ Grant looked at her two superiors with a frown. ‘However…’
‘Problem?’ asked Charlton.
‘Vanity,’ said Hudson.
‘Right. This type of serial killer wouldn’t usually copy another killer’s MO. His ego needs to know he’s an original, a one-off. If caught, he can revel in that knowledge, show off his superiority.’
‘Then again, Laura, leaving a print is not evidence of great organisation.’
‘We still don’t know it’s the killer’s, guv.’
‘Well,’ said Charlton with an air of finality. ‘This is all very interesting but gets me no closer to solving my dilemma. Even if Brook scrubs up clean over last night, can I afford to keep him as SIO?’
Hudson smiled at Charlton. ‘Can I make one further suggest ion, sir?’
DI Brook and DS Noble hurried down the stairs two at a time and arrived at the entrance to the lab. The place seemed deserted so Noble rapped on a frosted glass door and entered. A portly, completely bald, middle-aged man chewing on a slice of pizza turned towards the door. He wore a white coat flecked with crumbs and sported an ID badge with a picture of a thin long-haired stranger, taken many years before, and the name ‘Donald Crump’.
