‘Nice place,’ Carol said.
‘I was at school with the developer. She asked me to invest in the project at the start, and this was my payday.’
‘Good move.’ Carol stood awkwardly, waiting for an invitation to sit.
‘Drink?’
‘I’m fine, thanks. I don’t want to keep you from your work.’ She gestured towards the table.
‘It looks worse than it is, I’m nearly done. But sit down, you don’t have to stand on ceremony here.’
Easy for her to say, Carol thought, uncertain how much she trusted her new best friend. She settled into an enveloping armchair that was almost too much. Talk about being softened up. ‘I’ve met Saul and, like you, I’m inclined to think he’s not a killer. Since then, I’ve made a couple of important breakthroughs. Well, one of them is more serendipity than down to my investigative genius,’ she admitted.
‘Sounds intriguing.’ Bronwen curled up in a corner of the sofa, legs tucked neatly under her.
‘I had dinner with Paula McIntyre the other night. And I told her what I was working on.’
‘It’s so important to keep those lines of communication open in this work.’
‘She’s my friend, Bronwen. That’s the line of communication I have with her.’
‘Of course. But DI McIntyre is such a good operator. So, did she have some startling information from the files that nobody got round to telling Saul’s lawyer about?’
‘You have a very suspicious mind.’
‘So would you if you’d been on this side of the fence as long as I have.’
A pause. ‘This is not going to work if you see me as someone to beat my former colleagues with.’
Bronwen spread her hands and looked repentant. ‘I’m sorry, Carol. Lazy force of habit. But if they were all like you and Paula . . . ’
‘I assume you’ve been following the Bradesden convent story on the news?’
Bronwen frowned. ‘Yes, but—’
‘There’s a second group of remains.’
‘As well as the skeletons?’
‘Eight bodies. Young men. And they’ve been murdered. The assumption is a serial offender.’
‘Bloody hell. How on earth have they kept the lid on that?’
‘Hiding in plain sight. Everybody’s over-excited about nuns and skeletons. It’s amazing that there hasn’t been a leak from the other side of the investigation. But it’s early days, it’ll break sooner rather than later, I suspect. Anyway, they’re starting to get DNA through from these victims. And Paula called to tell me one of them is Sugar Lyle Tate.’
‘You’re saying Saul Neilson is a serial killer?’
‘No, no. Quite the opposite. There are at least two victims killed more recently than Lyle Tate. Saul was already serving his sentence by then. So it’s very unlikely he had anything to do with Lyle’s death. He was telling the truth, Bronwen.’
Her grin was completely spontaneous. ‘Bloody hell! Carol, that’s extraordinary.’ She laughed. ‘I knew I was right to get you on board.’ She jumped up. ‘Champagne!’
Carol shook her head and steeled herself for the admission. ‘I don’t do alcohol any more.’
Bronwen sat back down abruptly. ‘Of course. How stupid of me. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise. If you want to celebrate, we’ll go out for a curry one of these nights. Also, don’t get over-excited yet. There’s always the outside possibility that the police will try to claim Saul was involved with another person in killing young men, and that his partner in crime just carried on.’
‘That would be a hard case to make.’
‘Even harder, given what I found out tonight. I’ve found the missing witness.’
Bronwen frowned. ‘What missing witness?’
‘The one who’s been in Australia since the day after Lyle disappeared. The one who knew nothing about the murder or the trial till he came back to the UK. The one who talked to Lyle in Temple Fields after he’d left Saul’s place.’
‘You’re kidding?’
‘I don’t joke about murder. Lyle told him about the nosebleed. He’s willing to give us an affidavit. That plus the serial nature of the offence should be enough to get Saul in front of the Criminal Cases Review Commission, no?’
‘Yes. Yes and yes again. Where did you find this guy?’
‘He’s living in Lyle’s old flat. He took over the tenancy when Lyle’s former flatmate went down. I couldn’t believe it myself. But sometimes the luck turns our way.’
‘Not luck,’ Bronwen said. ‘You did what any decent detective would do. Victimology. Isn’t that what your pal Tony used to push so hard?’
The use of the past tense made Carol flinch. ‘Pushes. He still pushes it. He’s not dead, he’s just . . . ’
‘Temporarily out of the game, I get it. Sorry, I seem to be massively putting my foot in it every time I open my mouth tonight.’
Carol stood up. ‘I’ll give you a full report as soon as I can.’
‘Make a note of your expenses. We’ve built up a bit of a war chest, one way and another. It’s important none of us feels exploited. And obviously we’d want you to become one of us.’
‘I’m not making any snap decisions right now,’ Carol said. ‘There’s things I need to sort out.’
‘Anything I can help with?’
Carol gave a regretful smile. ‘Got to slay those dragons all by myself.’ And yours is not the help I’m looking for.
62
Somewhere deep inside, even the most arrogant and organised killer believes they will be caught. Some even come to crave it. But they all think they have an escape route planned.
From Reading Crimes by DR TONY HILL
Paula was insistent that there be no visible presence at Conway’s house. If he did come back, she wanted him to be unaware that his house was stuffed with police officers. Well, not quite stuffed. Three uniforms, two AFOs and her. She hadn’t asked for the AFOs but Fielding had insisted that if her officers were being sent to apprehend a killer, she wanted armed officers on site.
She took up station in the window of the master bedroom with a thermos jug of coffee, thanks to Conway’s kitchen. It gave her
