the Sentinel Times has been speculating about a serial killer since the second victim, but that’s not the same as being given the official accolade by the police themselves. And I may have unwittingly added fuel to the fire after the third killing.’
‘You mean, the interview you did with the Sentinel Times?’
‘Yeah. My suggestion that it was possible there were two killers at work will have made him angry that he wasn’t being acknowledged as the master of his craft.’
‘Dear God,’ Carol said, torn between revulsion and fascination. ‘So he went out and stalked a police officer so we’d take him seriously?’
‘It’s a possibility. Of course, it can’t have been just any police officer. Even though making his point to the powers that be is important to Handy Andy, the prime directive is still to go for victims who fulfil his very personal criteria.’
Carol frowned. ‘So what you’re saying is that there’s something about Connolly that makes him different from most other coppers?’
‘Looks like it.’
‘Maybe it’s the sexuality thing,’ Carol mused. ‘I mean, there aren’t many gays in the force. And those that there are tend to be so deep in the closet you could mistake them for a clothes hanger.’
‘Whoa,’ Tony laughed, holding up his hands as if to fend her off. ‘No theorizing without data. We don’t know yet whether Damien was gay. What might be useful, though, is to find out what shifts Damien worked recently. Say, the last two months. That’ll give us some idea of the times he was at home, which might help the officers who’ll be questioning his neighbours. Also, we should be asking around the other officers on his relief, to check out whether he always left alone, or if he ever gave anyone a lift home. We need to find out everything there is to know about Damien Connolly both as a man and as a bobby.’
Carol pulled out her notebook and scribbled a reminder to herself. ‘Shifts,’ she muttered.
‘There’s something else this tells us about Handy Andy,’ Tony said slowly, reaching for the idea that had just swum into his consciousness.
Carol looked up, her eyes alert. ‘Go on,’ she said.
‘He’s very, very good at what he does,’ Tony said flatly. ‘Think about it. A police officer is a trained observer. Even the thickest plod is a lot more alert to what’s going on around them than the average member of the public. Now, from what you’ve told me, Damien Connolly was a bright lad. He was a collator, which means he was even more on the ball than most officers. As I understand it, a collator’s job is to act like the station’s walking encyclopaedia. It’s all very well having all the local information about known villains and MOs on file cards, but if the collator isn’t sharp, then the system’s worthless, am I right?’
‘Spot on. A good collator is worth half a dozen bodies on the ground,’ Carol said. ‘And by all accounts, Connolly was one of the best.’
Tony leaned back in his chair. ‘So if Handy Andy stalked Damien without setting any alarm bells ringing, he must be bloody good. Face it, Carol, if somebody was tailing you on a regular basis, you’d pick them up, wouldn’t you?’
‘I bloody hope so,’ Carol said drily. ‘But I’m a woman. Maybe we’re just a bit more on our guard than the blokes.’
Tony shook his head. ‘I think a copper as smart as Damien would have noticed anything other than a very professional tail.’
‘You mean we might be looking for someone who’s in the Job?’ Carol demanded, her voice rising as she spoke the unthinkable.
‘It’s a possibility. I can’t pitch it more strongly than that till I’ve seen all the evidence. Is that it?’ Tony asked, nodding towards the cardboard box Carol had deposited by the door of his office.
‘That’s some of it. There’s another box and some folders of photographs still in the car. And that’s after some serious editing.’
Tony pulled a face. ‘Rather you than me. Shall we go and fetch it, then?’
Carol stood up. ‘Why don’t you get started while I go and get the rest?’
‘It’s the photographs I want to look at first, so I might as well come and help,’ he said.
‘Thanks,’ Carol said.
In the lift, they stood on opposite sides, both conscious of the other’s physical presence. ‘That’s not a Bradfield accent,’ Tony remarked as the doors slid shut. If he was going to work successfully with Carol Jordan, he needed to know what made her tick, personally as well as professionally. The more he could find out about her, the better.
‘I thought you said you left the detective work to us?’
‘We’re good at stating the obvious, us psychologists. Isn’t that what our critics on the force say?’
‘Touche. I’m from Warwick, originally. Then university at Manchester and into the Met on the fast track. And you? I’m not great on accents, but I can spot you’re a Northerner, though you don’t sound like Bradfield either,’ Carol replied.
‘Born and bred in Halifax. London University, followed by a DPhil at Oxford. Eight years in special hospitals. Eighteen months ago, the Home Office headhunted me to run this feasibility study.’ Give a little to get a lot, Tony thought wryly. Who exactly was probing whom?
‘So we’re both outsiders,’ Carol said.
‘Maybe that’s why John Brandon chose you to liaise with me.’
The lift doors slid open and they walked through the underground car park to the visitors’ parking area where Carol had left her car. Tony hefted the cardboard box out of the boot. ‘You must be stronger than you look,’ he gasped.
Carol picked up the folders of photographs and grinned. ‘And I’m a black belt in Cluedo,’ she said. ‘Listen, Tony, if this maniac is in the Job, what sort of stuff would you expect to find?’
‘I shouldn’t have said that. I was theorizing ahead of data, and I don’t want you to place any weight on it, OK? Strike it from the record,’ Tony panted.
‘OK, but what would the signs be?’ she persisted.
They were back in the lift before Tony answered her. ‘Behaviour that exhibits a familiarity with police and forensic procedure,’ he said. ‘But in itself, that proves nothing. There are so many true-crime books and TV detectives around these days that anyone could know that sort of stuff. Look, Carol, please put it out of your head. We need to keep an open mind. Otherwise the work we do is valueless.’
Carol stifled a sigh. ‘OK. But will you tell me if you still think that way after you’ve seen the evidence? Because if it’s more than a slim possibility, we might need to rethink the way we’re dealing with the enquiry.’
‘I promise,’ he said. The lift doors slid open, as if placing their own full stop on the conversation.
Back in the office, Tony slid the first set of photographs out of their folders. ‘Before you start, could you fill me in on how you want to pursue this?’ Carol asked, notebook at the ready.
‘I’ll go through all the pictures first, then I’ll ask you to take me through the investigation so far. When we’ve done that, I’ll work through the paperwork myself. After that, what I usually do is draw up a profile of each of the victims. Then we have another session with these,’ he said, brandishing his forms. ‘And then I walk out on the high wire and do a profile of the offender. Does that sound reasonable to you?’
‘Sounds fine. How long is all that likely to take?’
Tony frowned. ‘It’s hard to say. A few days, certainly. However, Handy Andy seems to work on an eight-week cycle, and there’s no sign that he’s accelerating. That’s unusual in itself, by the way. Once I’ve studied the material I’ll have a better idea of how in control he is, but I think we’ve probably got a bit of time to spare before he kills again. Having said that, he may well have already selected his next victim, so we’ve got to make sure that we keep any progress we make well away from the press. The last thing we want is to be the catalyst for him speeding up the process.’
Carol groaned. ‘Are you always this optimistic?’
‘It goes with the territory. Oh, and one more thing? If you develop any suspects, I’d prefer not to know anything about them at this stage – there’s a danger that my subconscious will alter the profile accordingly.’
Carol snorted. ‘We should be so lucky.’
‘That bad, is it?’
‘Oh, we’ve pulled in anybody who’s got form for indecent assault or violent offences against gay men, but
