Deity

‘I’d like to be put back in charge of The Embalmer case, sir. DS Noble can handle the missing students.’

‘Think DS Gadd’s out of her depth?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Then why?’

‘I should’ve thought that was obvious, sir. We’ve got two mutilated bodies and two more missing, probably facing the same fate.’

‘Two vagrants who died of alcohol poisoning, Inspector. Occupational hazard.’

‘Sir, Phil Ward was taken last night. I saw it happen. He’s the first definite abduction and it’s likely the other three were the same. It’s unlikely these men are just dying around The Embalmer and it’s not a huge stretch to assume he’s hastening their deaths before he cuts them open.’

‘There’s still no evidence of that,’ retorted Charlton.

‘I’m also worried about escalation. Leopold Street is compromised. If he thinks his supply is being cut off. .’

‘You mean he might turn his attention to real people,’ nodded Charlton. ‘It did occur to me.’ His expression softened. ‘You’re right. Assault and abduction is a step up from stealing cadavers.’

‘So I’m back on the case?’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Sir, these missing students. .’

‘. . are no longer just an internet sensation.’ Charlton picked up a pile of newspapers and dropped them on Brook’s lap. ‘The Times, the Telegraph, the Guardian and, needless to say, all the tabloids have picked up the story. I’ve had BBC and ITN reporters ringing the Press Office about this afternoon’s Deity broadcast and likely they’ll be running with it tonight. So you see, it doesn’t matter if these kids are sunbathing in Wembley Stadium, Inspector. Until we find them and put this to bed, this is your priority.’

‘So Ozzy Reece. .’

‘. . is being sought by a very able detective.’ Charlton rubbed his chin. ‘Look, you’ve got my permission to offer advice at every stage. Gadd’s got extra people. If there’s anything else you think we need to do, tell me.’

‘We need to go public. We need people to be on the lookout for the ambulance, get the facial composite of Ozzy Reece into the local press and TV and put his name out there.’

‘Isn’t it an alias?’ said Charlton.

‘Doesn’t mean he hasn’t used it in front of others.’

‘Okay. And for good measure get Noble to prepare a statement for the end of our media briefing this afternoon,’ said Charlton. ‘Would that suit?’

‘It would,’ replied Brook. ‘And after that, maybe we could go door-to-door in Shardlow.’

‘Shardlow?’

‘There’s a chance that’s where he lives.’

Charlton’s expression became pained but he knew not to mention budgets again to Brook. ‘Let’s see what the media can throw up for us first.’

Brook stood next to Terri’s VW in the station car park, bringing Noble up to speed on the phone.

‘Should I mention any of this in the briefing?’ asked Noble.

‘Yes, but keep it broad. The suspect is English but may have a keen interest in Egypt, may have visited or even lived there. Something like that. I printed off Petty’s email for Jane so she can chase up the Interpol inquiry. She’s also putting in calls to the Foreign Office and the British Council, see if that shakes anything out. If Reece ever lived in Egypt he may have done something similar and hopefully there’s a record.’

‘You know we’re going to get nothing, the state the country’s in.’

Brook rang off and waved to Terri, who was walking towards him beside a tall young man with short, bleach-blond hair, deep blue eyes and a neat beard. He wore a back-to-front baseball cap on his head and casual but smart clothing. Brook was faintly pleased to see his trousers weren’t held up by his knees. He carried several boxes and bags, only one of which appeared to be his. Terri was smiling and flirting all the way and only looked towards her father when she was in earshot.

‘Hi, Dad.’ She grinned.

Brook nodded. ‘If you’re busy, I can drive myself home, Terri.’

She blushed and looked at her companion. ‘Dad, this is Ray. He’s studying Law at Derby University. He helped carry my shopping.’

‘Hello, Ray,’ said Brook. ‘Another lawyer — great.’

‘Hello, sir.’ Ray beamed. ‘Where shall I put these, Terri?’

She opened the boot and the obliging Ray packed the bags and boxes in the small space, while Brook ran his eye over the young man, looking for tattoos. What he could see of his hands and arms were blemish-free so Brook stopped playing protector and ambled a few yards away to give them some space.

‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ Terri gushed.

‘I thought we already covered that,’ he teased.

‘I know,’ she said, a little embarrassed. ‘But I’m doing a dissertation and I’m staying with my dad.’

‘Don’t put me in the middle of this,’ Brook shouted over, pleased to be able to embarrass her.

‘There you are, Terri. Your dad knows work isn’t everything.’

Terri looked at her father. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure.’ She laughed her submission. ‘I’ve got your number, okay.’

‘Fair enough,’ replied Ray. ‘Nice meeting you, sir,’ he said to Brook, waving a farewell to Terri and wiggling his hand in the internationally accepted sign for ‘Call me’.

‘You didn’t waste much time,’ said Brook, restraining a smile.

Terri glanced at him. ‘I’m twenty already, Dad. There isn’t much time to waste.’

Eighteen

Brook and Terri rolled along in silence, punctuated by his directions through the Brisbane Estate. They pulled on to Yvette Thomson’s road and Brook spotted Len Poole cycling arthritically along the pavement in front of them. He held a large envelope tightly against one handlebar.

‘A pensioner in a tracksuit,’ said Terri. ‘Could anything be more wrong?’

To Brook’s surprise, Poole turned on to Yvette Thomson’s driveway, dismounted and rapped aggressively on the glass door.

‘Pull over, Terri.’

Terri looked at him and followed his eyes back to the squat figure of Poole. Without asking for explanation she pulled to the kerb and turned off the engine.

Brook kept his eyes trained on the house as Poole looked around at neighbouring houses while he waited, flicking the envelope against his thigh. When the door didn’t open he rapped on the glass more vigorously, then walked to the large bay window and peered inside.

‘What’s wrong, Dad? Why have we stopped?’

Brook reached into the back seat without breaking his surveillance. ‘I’ve got to drop off this laptop.’

‘This piece of junk,’ said Terri, examining it through the plastic. ‘I wouldn’t bother. Just stick it in the dustbin.’ She reached for the other plastic bag on the back seat. ‘Are these Adele’s?’

Brook nodded without taking his eyes from Poole, still banging impatiently at the door. Terri isolated a book through the plastic and held it up for Brook. ‘Sylvia Path, Dad. See?’

‘I know. You were right.’ Brook watched as Yvette Thomson finally opened the door. Unfortunately she moved back almost at once so he couldn’t see her reaction as Poole stepped purposefully over the threshold. But the way she had ushered Poole into her home told its own story. The two of them knew each other.

Brook wondered whether to sit tight or gamble. A second later, he took the computer from Terri. ‘Won’t be a