‘Help with what?’
‘On this serial killer we have on the loose.’
‘We don’t know we have such a thing.’
‘You said you did, and I believe you.’
‘What kind of help?’
‘A profiler.’
Walter grimaced. He’d feared the worst. ‘Is that necessary?’
‘I think it is. We need to catch this bugger before it gets out of hand.’
‘Who?’
‘The killer of course.’
‘No, I mean which profiler?’
‘Cresta Raddish.’
Walter grimaced. ‘Not her, she’s a menace.’
‘She’s very good. I’ve arranged for her to arrive tomorrow.’
‘That must cost you a fortune.’
‘Money is not an issue; the only thing that matters here is...’
Walter interrupted. ‘Yes, I know, the safety of the public.’
‘Quite. Make her welcome, Walter, and that’s an order.’
‘If you say so, ma’am.’
‘I do say, and please remember this is happening on my watch. It’s my neck on the block, not yours.’
‘It won’t come to that.’
‘It better not!’
CRESTA RADDISH HAD made her name three years before by pointing the police at the Yorkshire killer operating in Sheffield, Hull, and Doncaster. She’d had further success helping to uncover the schoolteacher murderer flitting between Swansea and Cardiff. The team at Chester was intrigued and on parade to greet her the following morning.
Mrs West led the welcome, mwa-mwahing Cresta in full view of the team. Walter was next up, though he wasn’t really a mwa-mwahing kind of guy. Cresta made a beeline for him, grasping his shoulders, depositing mauve lipstick on his cheeks, whispering in his ear, ‘I am so glad to meet you at last, Mister Darriteau, I’ve heard so much about you and your fabulous work. It’ll be a pleasure to work with you.’
‘Call me Walter,’ he said, though he wasn’t sure about the working with her, but at least she’d made a decent start.
She had a strange aroma about her, Walter noticed that. Not perfume exactly, and certainly not BO, more of the new age palaver, or dare one think it, hints of satanic worship, that same aroma that always hangs around those crazy colour filled shops that flog that kind of rubbish.
Karen stood on the sidelines awaiting her turn. It seemed Cresta was crazy about purple, or was it mauve? Skirt, blouse, scarf, shoes, eye shadow, and lipstick, all a pronounced shade of mauve. She was a buxom woman, not fat, more rounded, and Karen couldn’t help notice as Walter and Cresta embraced, they made a handsome couple, though he was a good twenty years older than she.
Karen wouldn’t forget that. There had to be a good ribbing in there somewhere. She was looking forward to working with Cresta Raddish. Karen kept an open mind, and if Cresta had helped to bring serial killers to justice in the past, it had to be worth having her onboard.
Walter introduced Karen; and the rest of the team, and in the next moment Cresta clasped her hands together and said, ‘Right, let’s make a start shall we, there is no time to lose,’ and Walter appreciated the sentiment, if not her determination to lead.
‘Walter,’ she said, ‘could you bring us up to speed?’
He nodded and glanced round the room. Twenty people assembled there, Mrs John West at the rear, grinning, imagined Walter, at her minor triumph in inflicting this weirdo on the rest of them, on him.
‘We have three unsolved deaths. A road kill, a fall or push in front of an express train, and most recently, a man seemingly tumbling to his death, drowning in the New Cut. It seems they are unrelated, but the fact we’ve had three in a short period is suspicious. We are treating all three as murder, and the suggestion is the same person is responsible. At this stage we don’t know if we are looking for a man or a woman. The only description we have is of a short, slight person observed at the scene of the railway death. It could be either.’
‘I think that is an important point,’ interrupted Cresta. ‘On the face of it you could be forgiven for assuming this is the work of a man. After all most serial killers are men, and most female serial killers conduct their work in the medical sector, hospitals, care homes, and the like. But we must not be swayed by that. This could be a pioneering female serial killer revelling in that very fact, that she is a pioneer, so to speak. I read up on the notes last night. There is nothing here to suggest this is a man.’
‘Or a woman,’ butted in Karen.
‘Quite so, so we keep an open mind. I see that the press haven’t cottoned on to this yet. I suggest that should be the first move.’
She glanced at Walter.
He nodded his approval and Cresta continued. ‘Arrange a press conference for tomorrow. This person is dying to be recognised in the public domain for his or her actions. They are craving fame. Let us grant them that wish.’
‘With what aim in mind?’ asked Karen.
‘Three aims. First, we are looking for leads of any kind from the public. Second, we are seeking to put pressure on the perpetrator, to stampede them into further action...’
‘Isn’t that dangerous?’ asked Karen.
‘Of course it is, but it is far more likely that he or she will make a mistake if we hassle them into early action. Far better than to sit back and wait for the next well-planned and neatly executed, forgive the pun, tragedy.’
‘And third?’ asked Walter.
‘Thirdly, Walter, is the best reason of all. I believe this he-she creature will contact us, and more accurately, you Walter, once they see your handsome face filling the plasma screens over teatime, pleading for help.’
Everyone laughed.
Walter pulled a face.
‘I take it nothing came of your research into recent prison releases?’
Everyone glanced at Karen. ‘There was one candidate,’ she said, ‘but he was away on a dungeons and dragons event in Birmingham at the time of the New Cut death.’
‘I am not surprised,’ said Cresta. ‘This isn’t someone who has been in the system before. This is a newbie, a pioneer.’
‘I agree with
