The body of the creature had been nailed to the heavy oak doors of the church, a large metal spike driven through each of its four paws.
Cath noticed that the body was upside down, the stump of the neck facing the ground, still dripping blood onto the gravel.
Patterson held the torch beam steady, allowing her to inspect every inch of the dead feline.
There was a slit which ran from its breast bone to its genitals, the stomach walls pulled open, the intestines hanging freely like the bloated tentacles of some bloodied octopus.
‘Shit’ she murmured, reaching into her jacket and pulling out the pocket camera.
As Patterson held the torch, Cath began taking pictures.
Forty-three
Talbot pressed hard on the buzzer of Flat 5b, Number 23 Queens Gardens, keeping the digit so firmly against the button that the tip of his finger began to turn white.
The building, like the rest of the road, was in darkness apart from a light which burned brightly in the covered porchway.
Talbot looked up at it and winced.
Fucking thing.
It hurt his eyes.
He heard a crackle and then a voice from the speaker on the wall next to the panel of buttons.
‘Who is it?’ said the voice, a little uncertainly.
‘Open the fucking door,’ Talbot rasped back into the other speaker, pressing his face close to it.
There was a moment’s silence.
‘Come on, Gina, for Christ’s sake, open the door,’ Talbot said again.
‘Talbot?’ said the voice on the other end. ‘What the hell-?’
‘Open it,’ he persisted.
There was a loud buzzing sound followed by a metallic click and the policeman pushed against the front door, which swung open to admit him.
He stood motionless in the spacious hallway for a moment, looking around at the closed doors of the other flats, then he headed for the stairs, thudding up them with almost purposely loud steps.
Gina Bishop appeared in the doorway of Flat 5b, her blonde hair unkempt, her body covered by a short white towelling robe.
Talbot smiled at her but found the gesture wasn’t reciprocated.
As he stepped past her into the flat he ran one hand over the soft material of the robe.
‘Calvin Klein?’ he said, haughtily.
She shot him an angry glance.
‘What the hell is all this about?’ she cried. ‘It’s two-thirty in the morning.’
Talbot sat down on the sofa and lay back, eyes closed.
‘You’ve been drinking,’ Gina said.
‘Brilliant deduction.’
‘How did you get here?’
‘I drove. Did you think I fucking walked all the way from north London? Good job I didn’t get stopped by the police, wasn’t it?’ He cracked out laughing.
‘You’re drunk.’
‘Not yet, but if you’re offering I’ll have a whiskey.’
Gina hesitated a moment then crossed the sitting room to a drinks cabinet. She took out a bottle of Scotch and a glass and walked back to Talbot, handing them both to him.
‘Here’ she muttered. ‘You might as well finish the job.’
She watched as he poured himself a large measure and swallowed most of it in one gulp.
‘Not joining me?’ he asked, watching as she sat down on the seat opposite, pulling the robe around her as best she could.
She crossed her arms, covering her chest even more.
‘A sudden attack of modesty?’ chided Talbot. ‘Surely not.’
‘Look, Talbot, just finish your drink, do whatever you came here to do and fuck off, will you?’
‘You know, you’re not the best hostess sometimes, Gina.’
He poured himself another drink. ‘Did I interrupt something?’
She shook her head.
‘You weren’t entertaining, then?’ he asked.
‘I got back about an hour ago.’
‘Busy night?’
‘What do you care?’
‘Perhaps I’m interested. Perhaps I want to know what you did. Who you did it with!’
‘What are you going to do? Arrest me?’
‘If I wanted to do that I’d have done it five years ago.’
‘Sometimes I wish you had. At least it might have got you off my bloody back.’
‘An unfortunate turn of phrase,’ he grinned. ‘Just remember, it’s only because of me that you haven’t been pulled in before now. The only reason you’re out there doing business every night is down to me.’
‘Am I supposed to be grateful for that? I keep up my end of the bargain, don’t I? You always get what you want.’
He poured himself another drink and glanced around the room, his gaze drawn to a photograph on top of the stack system. The DI got to his feet and crossed to it.
‘Who’s that?’ he asked, indicating the picture.
‘My mum and dad.’
‘Are they still married?’
Gina looked puzzled. ‘Yes. Why?’
Talbot ignored the question.
‘You look like your mum,’ he said softly, touching the photo with the tip of his finger. Then his tone changed. Hardened. ‘Do they know what you do for a living?’
She snorted incredulously. ‘Oh, yeah, of course they do, Talbot. The first thing I did was tell them I’d left the escort business and become a call girl.
What do you think?’
‘So, what do they think you are? They must have seen this place. They’d know you couldn’t live in a flat in Bayswater on a shop assistant’s wages. What do they think you do? Air hostess? Brain surgeon?’
‘They think I work in a PR company.’
He laughed.
‘PR. Prick relief,’ he snorted. ‘Very appropriate.’
Gina got to her feet, her expression darkening.
‘Look, I know what you came here for’ she snapped. ‘So just get it over with.
This is what you want, isn’t it.’
As Talbot watched she pulled at the cord around her waist and opened her robe, shrugging it from her shoulders, allowing it to drop to the floor. She stepped away from it and stood naked before him, watching as his eyes flickered back and forth, his gaze passing from her small, rounded breasts, down her smooth belly to the small triangle of light hair between her slim legs.
‘Well’ she said, sitting down again, lying back in the chair, one hand brushing the hair away from her face. ‘Come on.’
Talbot took a step towards her.
‘Do you need some help?’ she asked, allowing her right hand to glide over her breasts, her thumb scraping across one nipple. She used the nail delicately, rubbing until it rose into a stiffened bud.
