suggest anything to you?’
‘You mean he’s trying to divert our attention away from the real crime to something else?’
Inspector Flint nodded. ‘What I mean is this. I wouldn’t mind betting that when we do get down to the bottom of that fucking pile we’re going to find an inflatable doll dressed up in Mrs Wilt’s clothes and with a vagina. That’s what I think’
‘But that’s insane.’
‘Insane? It’s fucking diabolical,’ said the Inspector. ‘He’s sitting in there like a goddam dummy giving as good as he gets because he knows he’s got us chasing a red herring.’
Sergeant Yates sat down mystified. ‘But why? Why draw attention to the murder in the first place? Why didn’t he just lie low and act normally?’
‘What, and report Mrs Wilt missing? You’re forgetting the Pringsheims. A wife goes missing, so what? Two of her friends go missing and leave their house in a hell of a mess and covered with bloodstains. That needs explaining, that does. So he puts out a false trail…’
‘But that still doesn’t help him,’ objected the Sergeant. ‘We dig up a plastic doll. Doesn’t mean we’re going to halt the investigation.’
‘Maybe not but it gives him a week while the other bodies disintegrate.’
‘You think be used an acid bath like Haigh?’ asked the Sergeant. ‘That’s horrible.’
‘Of course it’s horrible. You think murder’s nice or something? Anyway the only reason they got Haigh was that stupid bugger told them where to look for the sludge. If he’d kept his trap shut for another week they wouldn’t have found anything. The whole lot would have been washed away. Besides I don’t know what Wilt’s used. All I do know is he’s an intellectual, a clever sod and he thinks he’s got it wrapped up. First we take him in for questioning, maybe even get him remanded and when we’ve done that, we go and dig up a plastic inflatable doll. We’re going to look right Charlies going into court with a plastic doll as evidence of murder. We’ll be the laughing stock of the world. So the case gets thrown out of court and what happens when we pick him up a second time for questioning on the real murders? We’d have the Civil Liberties brigade sinking their teeth into our throats like bleeding vampire bats.’
‘I suppose that explains why he doesn’t start shouting for a lawyer,’ said Yates.
‘Of course it does. What does he want with a lawyer now? But pull him in a second time and he’ll have lawyers falling over themselves to help him. They’ll be squawking about police brutality and victimization. You won’t be able to hear yourself speak. His bloody lawyers will have a field day. First plastic dolls and then no bodies at all. He’ll get clean away.’
‘Anyone who can think that little lot up must be a madman,’ said the Sergeant.
‘Or a fucking genius,’ said Flint bitterly. ‘Christ what a case.’ He stubbed out a cigarette resentfully.
‘What do you want me to do? Have another go at him.’
‘No, I’ll do that. You go up to the Tech and chivvy his boss there into saying what he really thinks of Wilt. Get any little bit of dirt on the blighter you can. There’s got to be something in his past we can use.’
He went down the corridor and into the Interview Room. Wilt was sitting at the table making notes on the back of a statement form. Now that he was beginning to feel, if not at home in the Police Station, at least more at ease with his surroundings, his mind had turned to the problem of Eva’s disappearance. He had to admit that he had been worried by the bloodstains in the Pringsheims’ bathroom. To while away the time he had tried to
