As he rubbed his tired eyes an hour later he realised one receipt didn't match all the others. A vet's bill. It was the one thing that didn't have a connection with anything in the flat. Suddenly energised he picked up the phone and got the directory service to connect him directly with the office named on the receipt.
A short while after that and Jimmy hung up the phone, picked up his coat and was hurrying out the door. The vet had confirmed the receipt was regarding surgical work done on a Siamese cat, but the name didn't match the one Jimmy had given him. The vet refused to give out the name and address unless he saw some identification. His premises were in Mornington Crescent off the Hampstead Road. Jimmy stood up and pulled his jacket off the back of the chair when Diane Campbell came in and leaned against the door frame.
'You got something?'
Skinner nodded. 'Got a lead on the second victim.'
'Good. Looks like we might have the name of the first, too.'
'How come?'
'Her mother's made contact. At least she thinks it's her daughter.'
'Thinks?'
'She hasn't seen her since she was fifteen years old.'
'Family row?'
'The father was abusing her.'
'What's her name?'
'When she left home she was called Maureen Carey. But no such name is flagging on our databases.'
'Working girl?' Jimmy shrugged. 'Likely not using her real name.'
Campbell nodded in agreement and stood aside for Skinner to leave. 'Keep me posted.'
'You got it.'
Sally pulled her car to a stop by the McDonald's on the corner of Shaftesbury Avenue and Dean Street, ignoring the angry honking from furious motorists behind her.
'Are you sure you don't want me to come with you, sir?'
'Quite sure, Sally, thanks.'
'You going to be back in time for a drink tonight?'
'I thought you had a hot date?
'Hardly that, sir. Just dinner with Michael Hill. But a few of us are going to the Pig first. You wouldn't be a gooseberry.'
'I'll think about it.'
Sally put her hand on his arm as he reached across for the door handle. 'I want to help, sir. Whatever it is you know I've got your back.'
Delaney nodded and quickly opened the door before she could press the matter. This was something he had to take care of himself and it was way past time.
It was a typically grey, wet and windy late-autumn day in Soho as Delaney walked up Dean Street, pulling his jacket as best he could around him. Since dislocating his shoulder and then being shot he was certainly feeling the cold a lot more. Christ, I'm getting old, he thought. Maybe he should do a Kate Walker, get out of the madness of it all while he still had a chance. The thought of Kate made him smile almost, took a little of the chill off his bones. To think he had almost let her get away again. And for what? For the fear he wouldn't be able to change? That he would carry the past around with him like a hunchback unable to straighten himself? Well, today was the day for all that to be put in the past once and for all. If Delaney was a sickness then Kate Walker was his cure. She would take the curve from his spine and make him walk tall again. But first he had business to attend to. The man who was responsible
