‘Should have reported the sleazebag to us,’ Steve muttered.
‘You’re probably right, Steve,’ Rutherford said. ‘But when you preach the forgiveness of sins all the time, you have to put the theory into practice every now and then.’
‘And it meant his employer had power over him,’ Paula said. ‘Anyway, by that time, Martinu had bought his cottage from the church. Mother Mary Patrick and Keenan both knew the convent closure was on the cards. The last thing they wanted was a stain on their reputation as they continued their careers in the church. So it suited everybody to keep quiet. The key part of this sordid tale is that Martinu isn’t interested in boys. He’s very interested in teenage girls.’
‘That’s borne out by the internet porn he accesses most frequently,’ Stacey chipped in. ‘He’s not been looking at guy-on-guy action at all. It’s all straight, a bit rapey, but nothing that would indicate any homosexual tendencies.’
‘Yeah, but you don’t have to be gay to kill men,’ Steve offered. ‘It might be that his victims were gay? They might have come on to him and he was so disgusted that he decided they didn’t deserve to live.’
Paula pulled a face. ‘Once or twice, maybe. But eight times? He’s not that hench. I can’t see him regularly sending out the kind of signals that would draw enough attention from gay men to provoke a murderous response. I’m not saying this lets Keenan off the hook, but it does speak to Martinu having a reason for dropping him in the shit.’
‘We need to check out his assertions about cars and driving licences. DC Chen, get on that right away. Alvin, you spoke to the nuns in York. Get back on to them and ask whether Keenan ever drove them around.’ Rutherford turned back to Paula. ‘But you’re not finished, are you?’ His smile was conspiratorial. A man happy to take credit for the successes of his team.
‘He harped on about Martinu being the gravedigger. He had the equipment and the expertise and nobody would question whatever he was doing in the grounds. He said if it wasn’t Martinu doing the killings, it must be somebody he knew. One of his friends, or some other kind of contact. When I pressed him for more detail, the only name he could come up with was Martinu’s cousin. Martinu’s big obsession is Bradfield Victoria, and his cousin shares that. The cousin regularly comes round to Martinu’s cottage to watch football on his big fuck-off TV. But it’s Martinu who owes his cousin big time, because the cousin is on the board of Bradfield Vics and they go together to games, home and away. Martinu goes to the board rooms with him, watches the games from the directors’ box, gets to meet the players.’
‘We know this how?’ Alvin asked.
‘Keenan says Martinu would get autographed photos of the players for the girls sometimes.’
‘So who is this mysterious cousin who’s important enough to be on the board of a top-flight football club?’ Rutherford butted in. He knew the answer; he’d been observing the interview. But he clearly enjoyed a grandstand moment.
‘He’s a businessman called Mark Conway. He owns the MARC sportswear chain. And a couple of smaller, more exclusive outdoor stores. He’s—’
‘Mark Conway?’ It was Sophie, startled into looking up from her tablet. ‘You’re kidding, right?’
‘No, why would I be kidding?’ Paula was bemused.
Sophie shook her head, bewilderment on her face. ‘I used to work for Mark Conway.’
42
By its nature, therapeutic practice is a lonely business. You are hedged in on every side by patient confidentiality and you can’t readily bounce your ideas off anyone. Working as a profiler is the diametric opposite of that.
From Reading Crimes by DR TONY HILL
Just as the briefing was coming to an end, Paula felt the vibration of a phone alert against her leg. She slipped her phone out of her pocket and gave the screen a quick nonchalant glance. A flash of panic seized her and her heart raced. She’d completely forgotten that she’d booked a couple of hours out that afternoon. The office diary said ‘hospital appointment’ but that was not her destination.
Rutherford finished handing out assignments, charging her with interviewing Martinu again. She waited till the others had filed out then spoke to him. ‘I’ve got a hospital appointment,’ she said. ‘It’s a scan. It might be serious. I’ll only be gone a couple of hours and then I’ll get straight back to Martinu. In the meantime, Karim can build some background?’
He looked outraged. ‘Can it not wait?’
‘I’ve been waiting. It’s women’s stuff, you know? It’s hard to concentrate, worrying all the time.’
He shook his head and sighed, the perennial put-upon man. ‘I thought your partner was a senior consultant? Can she not pull some strings, rearrange the appointment?’
‘She’s already pulled strings, that’s how I got this slot.’
With ill grace, he turned away. ‘Get back as soon as you can.’
Sometimes it worried Paula, how convincingly she could lie. By teatime, half the squad would be convinced she was facing terminal cancer. She didn’t enjoy being duplicitous but she knew there was no chance of keeping her appointment if she’d told the truth.
The traffic was relatively light and she got out of town
