Jack Tyler’s style was to lead from the front, and he detested the tedious administrative responsibilities that came with the job. They were never ending, hung around his neck like a lead weight, and constantly restricted his freedom. After updating his decision log, Tyler wearily emerged from his office, walked along the corridor to the MIR, and placed copies of his latest log entries in the ‘In’ tray for Operation Crawley, the randomly generated name that Tracey’s murder had been assigned. He smiled at Julia, the office temptress, on his way out.
“Would you like me to make you a cup of coffee?” Julia called after him.
“That’s very kind, as long as it’s no trouble.”
“You can trouble me anytime,” Julia purred.
◆◆◆
By the time the Scene Examiner arrived at Terri Miller’s flat she had changed into some clothes of her own and was feeling slightly more human.
The Examiner was a quiet, introvert man in his middle thirties. He had an unkempt bush of curly brown hair that fell just below his collar and he wore metal-rimmed glasses, which contained enormous bottleneck lenses that made his brown eyes seem much bigger than they really were. He introduced himself as Andy Baxter.
Baxter, who reminded Terri of your archetypal boffin, got straight down to business. He switched on the little iPod Nano that was clipped to his belt and started dusting the smooth surfaces of the apartment with fine white powder. He worked methodically, starting with the hallway and working back towards the living room. From his incessant humming, they quickly deduced that Baxter was an opera fan. When they asked what he was listening to, he shyly explained that he had a soft spot for the classic piano operas penned by the late German composer, Wagner.
“I hope he’s more talented at scene examination then he is at humming opera,” Kelly remarked, trying to lighten the atmosphere a little.
“Look, what exactly is the purpose of all this?” Terri demanded, wondering who was going to have to clear up the mess.
“You told us that, apart from you, Julie’s the only person who’s been in your flat recently. Is that right?” Evans enquired.
Terri nodded. “Yes. Sad but true. I’ve been so involved with my work that I’ve hardly been here at all, and I haven’t had anyone over for dinner in –”
“The point is,” Kelly interrupted, not the slightest bit interested in Miller’s social life, “if we find prints belonging to anyone else, there’s a good chance that they were left by the killer.”
The colour drained from Terri’s face, and she started looking around, trying to work out if anything had been disturbed. “You don’t really think that…that monster’s been in here, do you?” The idea that anyone – especially a bloodthirsty maniac – had been snooping around her apartment – going through her most intimate and private possessions – made her feel violated in some obscene way.
“Calm down, Miss Miller,” Paul Evans soothed, “I’ve examined the locks and there are no signs of tampering, so I honestly don’t think it’s likely. But we have to check everything out, just to be sure.”
Kelly moved over to the telephone, deep in thought. “Miss Miller, have you received any more phone calls, any at all since the killer spoke to you earlier?”
Terri checked the answer machine. There were no messages and no one had called before she and Julie left this morning. And she had used her mobile to speak to her editor. “No. And, please, call me Terri.” The reporter smiled in a way that implied she wanted hostilities to cease.
Kelly nodded, smiling back. She had big reservations about Miller, but she had promised Paul she would try to keep an open mind. She picked up the telephone and dialled ‘1471’. “Right, let’s see if our mystery man has left us a clue, shall we?”
“If he has, Kelly, it’ll be because he doesn’t mind us having it. This swine doesn’t make many mistakes,” Evans said quietly.
The electronic voice at the other end of the line repeated the eleven digits belonging to the last telephone number to call Terri, stating that the call had been made at five-fifteen that morning. “Thank goodness for British Telecom’s call back service,” Kelly said as she scribbled down the number on a pad by the phone. “We’ll run a check on that when we get back,” she told Terri, pocketing the piece of paper.
The cool bag and its wrappings were to be taken for immediate forensic and medical tests, but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the flesh packed inside it was human. The Polaroids and their accompanying letter were placed straight into separate evidence bags; they, too, would be forensically examined back at the lab.
Baxter did a quick visual comparison between the prints he had found in the flat and the elimination prints Terri and Julie had provided before leaving the station. “Sorry, guys, we’ll double check the results at the Yard, but I’m confident the only prints I’ve found match the two sets of elimination prints you’ve shown me.” Baxter said this with utter conviction. He seemed disappointed that nothing more sinister had come to light during his examination.
“The place hasn’t been wiped over, either. The dust patterns are equal and undisturbed, so I don’t think anyone’s been in and tried to hide the fact afterwards. No, I think you can safely say the place is clean.” Baxter began to put his brushes and powder away, his job finished. After carefully collecting the cool bag he departed for the police forensic laboratory in Lambeth.
Evans opened the patio door and walked out onto the spacious balcony. He took a few moments to savour the splendid view it afforded of the river Thames, watching in fascination as a small tug made its way along the river, battling valiantly against the strong current. He could see the silhouette of the pilot in
