to.’
Henderson felt his heart pounding inside his chest; he removed his hand from his head and touched his bloodied shirt front. He walked towards the sink and started to run the tap. He removed his shirt, tearing the buttons off as he did so, and then dropped it on the floor beside Angela. The slash across his chest was a clean cut, deep enough to cause blood loss but he knew it wasn’t so serious as to require hospital attention. He soaked a towel and dabbed with it; the raw tenderness of the wound caused him to wince but he continued to swab the wound and then held the towel in place with his hand for a moment to allow the blood to coagulate. As he looked down at Angela’s twisted body he knew what he had to do next. He reached down to the floor and retrieved the kitchen knife she had attacked him with and held it in his hand.
‘You fucking asked for it, Ange… You know that.’ Henderson eyed the cold steel of the blade then pressed the knife’s point in the counter to test its strength. As he did so, he caught Angela’s wide-eyed stare and ran over to close her eyelids. ‘You can fucking-well pack that in as well,’ he said.
As he stepped back, looked at the woman he had killed lying on the floor, he started to laugh. ‘Aye well, we might just get what we want out that beast bastard yet, Ange.’ He removed the towel from his chest, blood was still weeping from the wound but only enough to line the skin’s open fold. He reached down to grab Angela’s wrist. As he dragged her from the kitchen he tucked the knife’s blade into the back of his belt; he was surprised how heavy her lifeless body was.
Chapter 40
As DI Rob Brennan walked into the Chief Super’s office he eyed the back of Jim Gallagher’s head with a burning contempt. Brennan had risen early, made a point of getting the first editions of the newspapers and listening to the radio news bulletin in the car on the way to the station. He had known what to expect from the evening news the night before but the sight of DI Gallagher in Benny’s office threw up images of his worst nightmare coming true.
‘Good morning, sir,’ said Brennan.
‘Let’s dispense with the pleasantries, shall we?’ said the Chief Super.
Brennan shrugged. ‘If you like.’
‘They do seem wholly inappropriate, wouldn’t you agree?’
Brennan was tempted to add a smart-arse reply of his own, something like his mother saying manners cost nothing, but he let it slide. He was in enough trouble as it stood.
Gallagher shifted in his seat as Brennan drew level with him; there was no acknowledgement between the two men. The Chief Super shook his head and sighed, he raised both hands towards the ceiling in an exasperated salute and returned to his seat. ‘Sit down, Rob,’ he bellowed.
Brennan removed the chair in front of him, opened his coat and sat down. He watched as the Chief Super pressed his fingertips into his temples and massaged; he seemed stressed, even for a man whose natural state was to be stressed.
‘Guess what’s on my mind, Rob?’ said the Chief Super.
‘Sir?’
‘No, go on, indulge me…’
Brennan crossed his legs. ‘Well, if I was to hazard a guess it would be the Sloan case and…’
The Chief Super interrupted, ‘And perhaps the way it’s been portrayed in the press?’
Brennan paused, resumed his calm tone, ‘Well, I was going to say, how it has been linked to the Fiona Gow cold case which,’ he flagged a hand in Gallagher’s direction, ‘he gifted to the press yesterday.’
Gallagher leaned forward, turned to face Brennan. ‘Now, come on.’
‘Come on what, Jim?… Are you disputing that hack had your number from the moment you walked through the door? You should never have been within a mile of that press conference and you know it.’
The Chief Super raised his hands again, glanced upwards again. ‘OK. Look, Rob, it was my idea to put Jim in the press call…’
Brennan tutted.
‘Was that a tut, Inspector?’ said the Chief Super.
‘Sir, it was my press conference, and we wouldn’t be in this bloody mess now if it had been left to me. Just like this is my case and it should be left to me.’
The Chief Super closed his mouth, leaned back in his chair. For a moment he paused before Brennan and Gallagher and then he opened a blue folder on his desk. ‘When it’s left to you, you go wild with overtime and hire profilers from Strathclyde!’
Brennan felt his throat freeze. ‘I needed a profiler and he was the best man for the job.’
‘That’s not my point, Rob…’
‘Well, then I’m missing the point, sir.’
The Chief Super leaned forward; he removed his glasses from his top pocket and put them on his nose. ‘The point is you need to be closely supervised,’ he ran his index finger down a column of figures, ‘… you appointed Lorrimer after I cautioned you about the overtime spending and I don’t know what to expect from you next.’
Gallagher started to tap at the leg of his chair with his foot; Brennan turned away, held himself in check.
‘No comment, Rob?’ said the Chief Super.
Brennan flared, ‘Look, Lorrimer is the best there is, what sort of a state do you think this investigation will be in without the best people on the job? You know we’re in enough shit as it is with the press; if we don’t get results soon we’re going to be in even more… My job is catching criminals, not counting little rows of numbers in ledgers!’
‘Wrong, Rob.’ The Chief Super rose from his chair, pointed at Brennan. ‘Your job is to do whatever I tell you to do. And not the bloody opposite!’
Brennan watched as the Chief Super kept his gaze fixed on him; he felt his mouth dry over and then a line of sweat formed on the back of his neck. He had seen Benny fire up before but never in front of anyone else; it should be a private affair — carpetings were something personal. This was new territory and it confused Brennan. If Benny had wanted to take the case from him, he would have done that by now; he sensed a shift. It could have been the fact that Brennan was now firmly fixed in the media’s glare — he was leading the investigation — if he was suddenly stripped of command, that would make the force seem in turmoil. Moreover, Benny’s favourite son — Gallagher — had been identified as the investigating officer from a similar unsolved case; Benny couldn’t put Gallagher at the head of the team without attracting even more criticism. It was a stalemate. Brennan knew what that meant: the investigation might be his now but only in name; Benny would be calling the shots and that wouldn’t ease up after the case was closed. Benny had been disgraced and he wanted Brennan to pay for that. The fact Gallagher had been shown up too was not to be ignored; circumstances had conspired to keep the investigating officer’s role from him, but Gallagher would still need someone to blame, and Brennan knew who that would be.
The DI wiped the palms of his hands on his trouser legs as he prepared to reply to the Chief Super; there was a moment of dead calm in the room where even breathing seemed to have ceased and then, as he was about to speak, the phone on the Chief Super’s desk started to ring.
‘Yes, Hill…’ his tone was firm, then suddenly changed, ‘What? And the locus?’
Brennan caught Gallagher’s eyes taking him in; they both looked away.
The Chief Super continued, ‘And where are you now?… Right, do not make a three-ring circus out of this, I do not want the press alerted!’
As the Chief Super returned the receiver to its cradle he seemed to have lost several shades of colour. He looked gloomily towards Brennan and spoke, ‘We have another one.’
Brennan lunged forward in his seat, ‘What did you say?’
‘It’s another murder… Same as the others.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ said Gallagher. ‘Where about, same locale?’
The Chief Super nodded, ‘Within a mile’s radius… McGuire is on his way out there, and the SOCO squad.’
Brennan rose, ‘Right. I better get on this.’ He turned for the door.
