he said out of the corner of his mouth. ‘You did what we’ve all been wanting to do ever since we got in here.’
Merrick stopped and smiled at the constable. ‘You’re supposed to be doing an undercover. Either fucking dance with me or fuck off and let one of these poofters chat you up.’
Leaving the constable open mouthed, Merrick walked over to the far side of the dance floor and leaned against the wall. The commotion he’d left at the bar had died down. Ian pushed his way through the crowd, still holding his stomach, and left the club, shooting venomous glares at Merrick.
Before long, Merrick had company again. This time, he recognized his companion as a detective constable from one of the other divisions who had only joined the murder squad that day. He was sweating under the weight of heavy leather jacket and trousers that looked suspiciously like standard police motorcycle issue. He leaned close to Merrick, so he wouldn’t be overheard in the crowd round the dance floor and said urgently, ‘Skip, there’s a guy I think we should take a look at.’
‘Why?’
‘I overheard him mouthing off to a couple of blokes that he knew the dead guys. He was boasting about it. Reckoned there weren’t many that could say that. And I heard him say that the killer must be a body-builder like him, on account of lugging bodies around. He was saying he bet there were people here tonight who didn’t know they knew a murderer. Boasting, like, all the way.’
‘Why don’t you bring him in yourself?’ Merrick asked, his interest quickened by what he’d heard, but reluctant to deprive the constable of the credit of pulling in a suspect.
‘I tried to strike up conversation with him, but he gave me the brush-off.’ The constable gave a wry smile. ‘Maybe I’m not his type, skip.’
‘And what makes you think I am?’ Merrick demanded, not sure whether he was being subtly insulted here.
‘He’s wearing the same kind of gear as you.’
Merrick sighed. ‘You better point him out to me.’
‘Don’t look now, sir, but he’s standing over by the disco speakers. IC1 male, five foot six, short dark hair, blue eyes, clean shaven, heavy Scottish accent. Dressed like you. Drinking a pint of lager.’
Merrick leaned back against the wall and slowly scanned the room. He got the suspect on the first pass. ‘Got him, I think,’ he said. ‘OK, son, thanks. Look fucked off when I go.’
He shrugged away from the wall and left the constable practising his depressed look. Slowly, Merrick moved round the room until he found himself next to the man who’d been pointed out to him. He had the bulky build of a weightlifter and the face of a boxer. His outfit was almost identical to Merrick’s, save that his jacket had more buckles and zips. ‘Busy in here tonight,’ Merrick said.
‘Aye. Lots of new faces. Half of them probably polis,’ the man said. ‘See that jerk you were just talking to? He might as well have come in his Panda car. Did you ever see a more obvious busy in all your born days?’
‘That’s why I fucked him off sharpish,’ Merrick replied.
‘I’m Stevie, by the way,’ the man said. ‘Busy night you’re having with the unwanted solicitations. I saw you sort that toerag out earlier. Nicely done, pal.’
‘Thanks. I’m Don.’
‘Nice to meet you, Don. You new about here, then? Accent like that, you’re obviously not a local.’
‘Does everybody know everybody else here?’ Merrick asked with a wry smile.
‘Pretty much. It’s a real village, Temple Fields. ’Specially the S amp;M scene. Let’s face it, if you’re gonnae let somebody tie you up, you want to know what you’re getting into.’
‘You’re not wrong, Stevie,’ Merrick said with feeling. ‘Even more so when there’s a killer on the loose.’
‘My point exactly. I mean, I don’t suppose these guys that got themselves killed thought they were up for anything more than a bit of rough. I knew them, you know. Adam Scott, Paul Gibbs, Gareth Finnegan and Damien Connolly. Every last one of them, and let me tell you, I wouldn’t have had them pegged for that sort of scene. Just shows you, doesn’t it? You can never tell what goes on in people’s heads.’
‘How come you knew them, then? I thought the paper said they weren’t known on the scene,’ Merrick said.
‘I run a gym,’ Stevie said proudly. ‘Adam and Gareth, they were members. We used to go out for a drink now and again. That Paul Gibbs, I knew him through a mate of mine, used to have a pint with him and all. And that copper, Connolly, he came round the gym after we had a burglary.’
‘I bet there’s not many around here that can say they knew all the poor sods,’ Merrick said.
‘You’re right there, pal. Mind you, I don’t suppose the killer had anything more in mind than a wee bit of fun.’
Merrick’s eyebrows rose. ‘You think it’s fun to murder folk?’
Stevie shook his head. ‘Naw, you’re no’ following me. See, I don’t think he sets out to kill these guys. Naw, it’s kind of an accident, if you get my meaning. They’re playing their games, and your man just gets carried away, and it all gets out of hand. He’s obviously strong, he carts these bodies about and dumps them in the middle of the city, for God’s sake. He’s not going to be a seven-stone weakling, now is he? If he’s a real body-builder like me, he maybe doesn’t know his own strength. Could happen to anybody,’ he added after a moment’s pause.
‘Four times?’ Merrick demanded incredulously.
Stevie shrugged. ‘Maybe they asked for it. Know what I mean? Prick teases and that? Promising what they didnae want to deliver when push came to shove? I’ve been there, Don, and let me tell you, there’ve been times when I’ve wanted to strangle the wee bastards.’
The detective in Merrick was straining at the leash. Carol Jordan wasn’t the only Bradfield copper who’d been reading up on the psychology of the serial killer. Merrick had read cases where killers got off on this kind of justification, swaggering in front of a third party. The Yorkshire Ripper, he knew, had boasted to his male cronies about ‘doing’ prostitutes. He wanted Stevie in an interview room. The only problem was how to get him there.
Merrick cleared his throat. ‘I suppose the only way to avoid that is to get to know the people you go to bed with before you get there.’
‘My point exactly. You fancy getting out of here? Maybe going for a cup of coffee down the diner? Getting to know each other a wee bit better?’
Merrick nodded. ‘Sure,’ he said, dumping the remains of his beer on a nearby table. ‘Let’s go.’ Soon as they got outside, he could switch his radio to ‘transmit only’ and one of the back-up teams would pick them up. Then they could test Stevie’s bravado in Scargill Street.
Although it was after midnight, the street outside the Hell Hole was far from deserted. ‘This way,’ Stevie said, pointing to his left. Merrick slid his hand into his jacket and adjusted the radio switch.
‘Where is it we’re going?’ he asked.
‘There’s an all-night diner in Crompton Gardens.’
‘Great. I could murder a bacon butty,’ Merrick said.
‘Very bad for your health, all that grease,’ Stevie said seriously.
As they rounded the corner into the alley leading into the square, Merrick sensed someone stepping out of a darkened doorway behind him. He started to turn towards the sound of footsteps.
Just like Bonfire Night, was his last conscious thought as a starburst of light erupted behind his eyes.
F ROM 3' DISK LABELLED: BACKUP. 007; FILE LOVE. 007
It didn’t last as long as I’d expected. Surprisingly, Adam proved more fragile than the German shepherd. Once he’d lapsed into unconsciousness following the dislocation of his limbs, he proved impossible to rouse. I waited for hours, but nothing seemed to bring him round; not pain, not cold water, not warmth. I was disappointed, I admit it. His pain had been a mere shadow of mine, his punishment not enough for the betrayal that occasioned it.
I finished what I had to do, neatly and swiftly, just after midnight. Then I took him off the rack and folded him into a heavy-duty garden rubbish sack. I put that inside a black Bradfield Metropolitan Council bin bag. It was a struggle to get the dead weight back up the cellar steps and into the wheelbarrow, but my hours pumping iron paid off.
I couldn’t wait to get home to my computer, to transform the evening into something transcendent. But I still
