“I think you’ve done more than enough,” said the angel. “Infact, you’ve been quite possibly the best subject I’ve ever had. You haven’tjust thought about yourself, and I like that. As a reward I think you deserveto pamper yourself on this last day. Choose a special day, and just go back andenjoy it.”
“If you put it like that, perhaps I should,” agreed Kay. “Iam sure I will think of something by tomorrow. And what happens after that? DoI never see you again?”
“That’s usually how it works,” replied the angel.
“That’s a pity,” said Kay. “Because Kent and I were talking,and we thinking how great it would be to set up a time-travelling detectiveagency – one where we could use our trips back in time to solve crimes andright injustices. It wouldn’t be for personal gain, you understand, just twopeople trying to make the world a better place. I think it would be good forhim, too. It would finally give him the chance to solve some crimes to makeamends for his less than illustrious policing career.”
“I like the idea,” said the angel. “And I can see the meritin what you are saying. But he’s already used up his six days and you’ve onlygot one left.”
“But you still think it’s a good idea?”
“I said so, didn’t I?” replied the angel.
“Well, then, how about allocating us some more days in thefuture so we can do it? Maybe give us some sort of hotline so we can call youup when we need you?”
“I’m not here at everyone’s beck and call, you know,”protested the angel. “There are other people I need to help. You and Kent havegot your lives sorted now. I can’t be running back to you every five minutes.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem for you if you are asomnipresent as you claim. I seem to recall you saying you could be any place atany time, so it’s hardly like you need a time-management course, is it?”
“Well, I might have exaggerated a little on that front,”said the angel. “But I will think about it. Meanwhile, I suggest you think aboutwhere you want to go tomorrow. I will see you then.”
“Fair enough,” replied Kay. “Now I must go and get on.Things to do, people to see: you know how it is.”
Ten minutes later she was sitting at the kitchen table, cupof coffee in hand and a mince pie on a plate in front of her, nice and warmafter precisely seventeen seconds in the microwave. She always found gettingthe timing on mince pies tricky. They were either lukewarm or exploded in themicrowave, but for once she had got it right.
She was feeling much calmer now, the shock of her recentexperience slowly fading. Even so, she knew that the memories of the traumaticevents would likely be with her for life. It wasn’t the sort of thing anyonewas ever likely to forget.
It was time to get to work. She reached for her mobile, andonce again texted Kent.
I know who the killer is. Meet me in the pub at 12.30.
He quickly replied with his confirmation.
When she got to the pub, Kent was at the bar with Nobby, whowas arguing with Craig.
“Come on, mate: put the racing on the telly. It’s the KingGeorge at Kempton Park, today. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
“Well, go to the bookies and watch it then,” replied Craig.“Man City v Liverpool kicks off at 12.45, and that lot over there have come in towatch it.”
He gestured towards a bunch of middle-aged men in Liverpoolshirts.
“They’ve been cooped up with their families for two days, nodoubt itching to get down here to watch the game. I’m not switching it off forsome horse race.”
“Suit yourself,” said Nobby. “I was going to give you a tipI’ve had off a mate for a horse running at Wetherby later, but you can stick itnow.”
Getting up from his stool, Nobby tucked his Racing Postunder his arm and headed for the door, muttering as he did so.
That left the bar area nice and clear for her to talk toKent while Craig went off to serve the Liverpool supporters. She explained indetail what had happened, including the details of her own ‘death’ at the handsof McVie.
“So there you have it,” she concluded. “We know without adoubt it was him, so what now?”
“We go to Hannah, and try and get her to bring him in,”replied Kent.
“Yes, and we need to be quick about it,” said Kay. “He saidhe was going up to Scotland for Hogmanay after Christmas. They need to catchhim before he leaves.”
“The big issue we have here remains evidence,” said Kent.“Obviously we don’t have any.”
“But there’s nothing to stop them taking him in forenquiries, is there? He was her boss, after all. Then they just need to takehis DNA. Surely they can match it to the victims? He raped them all for astart, so that will have left some evidence.”
Saying these words, she winced at the sheer gruesomeness ofwhat the nature of that evidence would be.
“Absolutely,” said Kent. “But she’s still got to have areason to bring him in. There are all sorts of rules you have to follow, and Ishould know. I got into all sorts of trouble over not sticking to proceduresover the years. It’s bloody frustrating, I can tell you.”
Kay nodded her understanding, as Kent continued.
“The problem with high-profile cases like this is that theyattract people with crackpot theories about who could have done it, especiallyif there’s a reward at stake. You’d be amazed how many would-be amateur sleuthsthere are out there. Then you’ve got all the vindictive types involved in pettyfeuds with neighbours, trying to accuse them of all sorts of things theyhaven’t done.”
“Isn’t that called wasting police time?” asked Kay.
“Yes, but it doesn’t stop them trying it on,” said Kent. “Ina case like this, Hannah’s bound to have had a few down the station trying iton.”
“Ah, but I’ve got a secret weapon, haven’t I?” asked Kay.
“What’s that, then?” asked Kent.
“It’s you, of course. You used to be D.I. here
