Fucking hell…
The man with Anita definitely looked like Burgess.
“So, we need to know the identity of this man,” Burgess said, the back of his neck flushed, his hand shaking. Once again, he faced the room. Flushed cheeks, too. “Has anyone else got any other pertinent information before we crack on for the day?”
“No prints results have come back from Anita’s house search yet, sir,” Lewis said. “Slow as usual. But forensics did find two used cinema tickets under the mattress with the photo, along with a cash receipt for the food eaten there. Two hot dogs, a large shared popcorn, and two Cokes. Seems to me she was collecting things to do with her relationship with the man. Not unusual, and the hiding of them might not be actual hiding.” He glanced at Yaqui as if in apology for having a different opinion to him. “It might be because those things are special to her and the affair was private for some reason—maybe he’s married or whatever—and the placing of them under the mattress reinforces the secrecy, if that makes sense.”
“Fair point,” Burgess said.
“Financial Forensics are still going through her bank statements, credit card bills, but last I checked before end of shift yesterday, nothing glaring stands out.” Lewis grimaced. “I asked Tom from night shift if any progress had been made there, and he said no, so it’s a waiting game on whether anything of significance is discovered in that area.”
Shaw sighed. It was crucial to find as much evidence as they could right off the bat, but with the cogs moving so slowly, it was rare that anything much came in from forensics during the early stages. Frustration usually set in until a break came along, and for now the team would have to follow the regular drill and keep searching.
“Right, well, if that’s it, we’ll go with business as usual,” Burgess said. “You all know your tasks in a case like this, and I’m sorry you have the added pressure of an extra body to deal with, but it is what it is. What I want to know is why the victims are so different. What’s the link? Someone needs to sort out a map with the body locations on it—I expect to see it pinned up here by this afternoon. What also needs checking is similar cases in the past. Anything comes up on that, ring me immediately. There’s a press conference arranged for this afternoon, but the DCI will be dealing with that. I’d like to remind you that under no circumstances must there be a revelation that insects have been used. We’d like to keep that quiet for now. Also, can someone look into an insect case headed by DI Bethany Smith a while back—was there anyone involved who could know our killer, or has he read about that case and decided to copy it somewhat?” He clapped. “On you go.”
While chairs scraped, feet shuffled, and officers filed out, Shaw remained where he was. He picked up his coffee and sipped—a bit cold now, but he dared not waste it. With the room empty, he waited for Burgess to stop pacing. Thought it prudent he kept his mouth shut for the moment, or until Burgess had worked through whatever was on his mind. The picture of the man with Anita, most likely.
The minutes stretched. The coffee was gone. Burgess still paced.
“Out with it,” Shaw said.
“It might just be a coincidence.” Burgess sighed. Slumped down into a chair beside Shaw. “I’ll just say it, stupid as it might sound. The birth date is the same as my father’s, and the picture of Anita with the man—it’s like looking at my father. He even has the same sort of beard.”
Shaw jerked his head back at the news. “Coincidence it might be, but we have to follow all leads. And if it comes to nothing, at least we followed it up.”
“Hmm.” Burgess fiddled with his fingers. “Dredging up the past, though…”
“I know.”
“So we’ll keep it between us until we know anything concrete?”
“All right.” Shaw stood.
“Thing is, my father’s murder has been a cold case for so long, and I’ve read the details to death and come up with nothing. Will me taking another look do anything? And that man, the one in the picture. If he looks like my dad…”
Shaw sighed heavily. “You’re going to have to speak to your mother, you know that, don’t you.”
“Fuck. I don’t want to bring it all back for her. And how the hell do I ask whether it was likely he had another kid, all based on us getting a birthdate and seeing a picture of a bloke who resembles him?”
“If it wasn’t you or your mother involved, what would you do with that information?”
“Run with it. Full pelt.”
“Then we run, whether it seems fantastical or not.”
Chapter Fifteen
Burgess couldn’t get the image of that man out of his head. It squatted in the forefront, there even with his eyes open. His father—that was all he could see, exactly how he remembered him, too, before he’d been killed. Burgess had been led to believe that his father was a good man, one who’d doted on his wife and child. If this recent shit was anything to go by, and if it turned out this wasn’t just Burgess seeing things wrong, the man had been anything but good for a while. The killer having the same birthdate, let alone looking like Burgess’ old man, was too close to home and couldn’t be swept under his mental carpet.
Having his memory tainted, his father toppling from the pedestal Burgess had put him on, was a shock to the system. He needed coffee. A strong one. And maybe he’d have the urge to smoke again at some point. This was
