‘He asked for thirty minutes before I reported to you.’
‘And you agreed?’
‘I was frightened.’
‘Maybe it’s best if you give me the full story.’
‘Okay. I was taking a walk. I’ve been in the hostel solid since Bob’s death. I just felt like some fresh air.’
‘Around here?’
‘You know what I mean. Anyway, I’m walking down the street minding my own business when Big Greg comes alongside.’
‘And?’
‘He grabs my arm and pulls me towards a bench.’
‘You resisted?’
‘I could see the look in his eyes, and he was gripping me firmly.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He admitted to killing Bob.’
‘Murder?’
‘He said that he had killed him and that he would commit the same crime again.’
‘He sounds like a psychopath.’
‘He’s not. I know what they’re like, but he was sane, just determined.’
‘But why murder?’
‘He was very clear in that the murder of one or two people was minor compared to the cost of the truth. He called it the secret.’
‘What secret?’
‘The secret in that notebook and on Bob’s computer. I didn’t understand what he meant, other than he was adamant that you are messing with something dangerous.’
‘I’ve seen the formulas and the technical drawings. None of us has a clue as to what they mean. Did he say more?’
‘He said for you to stop investigating what they meant.’
‘But there’s been a murder. We can hardly walk away on the advice of the murderer.’
‘I told him that.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He just reiterated what he had said before.’
‘Anything else?’
‘No. He left me there and walked away. That’s the last I saw of him. He’d scared me. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to come here, but it seemed important. He’ll kill again. I just don’t want anyone’s death to be on my conscience because I didn’t tell you.’
Chapter 8
With the admission of guilt, even if only to a third party, the department’s activity to find the missing man continued. As usual, DCS Goddard was in the thick of it: advising Isaac on how to organise his team, phoning up Commissioner Alwyn Davies to update him on his success in identifying the culprit. Isaac, as the SIO, did not appreciate his DCS taking the credit, and besides, they may have had a tentative confession, but they certainly did not have the man.
Larry Hill and Wendy Gladstone were on the hunt, but there was nothing. It had been two hours from Big Greg leaving Katrina Ireland to her arriving at Challis Street, then fifteen minutes while she told her story.
By the time Larry and Wendy arrived at the bench where the murderer and the hostel manager had met, nearly three hours had transpired. Gordon Windsor sent over some members of his team, established the bench and the small park as a crime scene, and then checked for fingerprints, as well as combing through the uncut grass. They didn’t find very much, other than proof that people did not clean up after their dogs had defecated when no one was looking, and that a park bench is a great place to deposit chewing gum after it’s given all its flavour. Fingerprints had been thought to be a possibility, but none were found.
Wendy had organised some uniforms to ask around the area. One woman remembered a homeless man wandering down the road but no more, certainly not enough to formulate a direction and a possible search area.
Bridget, back at the station, put out an updated all points warning for the man, but the description of tall, vagrant, dirty, overweight did not help much, and no one believed it would come to anything.
‘Stuffed it again, is that it?’ Richard Goddard said as he sat in Isaac’s office.
‘Hardly, sir. We’ve got a confession.’ Isaac had grown tired of his boss always criticising when it was not required. As far as the DCI was concerned, the case was progressing well. A murder confession was normally the last thing that was obtained, but this time the murderer had admitted his guilt without any coercion, which seemed strange in itself.
‘You’ve one murder, one murderer. This is an easy one, looks good for the department if you bring him in.’
Looks good for you, Isaac thought as he looked over at Goddard, a man who had treated him well in the past but who now seemed more interested in furthering his own career.
Not that Isaac could blame him, as the man had been overlooked a few times for the promotion up to commander. The first time, it had been political, the highest echelons of government holding him back, but after that it had been Commissioner Alwyn Davies, a man who did not like sycophants or people smarter than him, and especially anyone who could threaten his position. Already, with less than two years in the job, questions were being asked about the commissioner’s suitability, and not only by the rank and file of the London Metropolitan Police, but also by the mainstream media outlets, the newspapers, the television stations. After a couple of terrorist incidents – a stabbing frenzy by a group of homegrown militants when three people had died, and then a car bomb that had exploded in a shopping centre killing six people, one a child under two – there was often criticism of the commissioner, whose mandate included terrorism.
Isaac could see the problem, as could his super. Alwyn Davies had attempted to bring in his stooge, DCI Caddick, to run the Challis Street Homicide department, not because he was the best man for the job, but because he was Davies’s man. Other departments had not been so successful in stopping Davies from interfering, and substandard, sometimes blatantly incompetent, people had been put in charge: Counter
