‘Are you saying that whoever did this has picked the Wallis family out at random?’ Noble asked.
‘No. Our killer has sound reasons for wanting
this
family dead.’
‘Well,’ said Noble, deciding to risk humiliation in the hunt for brownie points, ‘if they weren’t selected at random, surely the killer must know the family, or some members of it.’
‘I don’t think so, John. He just thinks he does.’
‘This is idle speculation,’ rejoined McMaster, deciding she’d learned all she was going to learn. ‘I’m cancelling my course in Birmingham. I’ll be briefing the press this afternoon so I’ll need your CID/57’s as soon as possible. I think DS Noble has a point. I don’t like the idea of serial killings, Damen. This isn’t London.’
‘That’s what the Yorkshire Ripper team said. One of the reasons he was free to kill for years.’
‘Point taken,’ said McMaster, adopting her non-threatening, conciliatory body posture, ‘but I want all other avenues explored first. Use whatever resources you need. Bobby Wallis was a nasty piece of work–with previous. I want to know about enemies, neighbourhood feuds and so on. And check out this Mr Singh who found the bodies. Maybe he took his complaint about the noise too far. Maybe there was an argument about something. Who knows what people will do under stress? Have you run the MO through CATCHEM?’
CATCHEM, Central Analytical Team Collating Homicide Expertise and Management, a computer database introduced in 1992 which could build an identikit profile of any serial offender from the distinctive characteristics of the offence, one of the fruits of the review carried out after the Yorkshire Ripper debacle and an overdue response to the American violent crime profiling system, VICAP.
‘We will but it won’t yield anything new,’ said Brook.
‘Why so sure?’ she flashed back at him.
‘Because this isn’t a murder, it’s an execution. This family’s been punished.’ There was silence. Neither McMaster nor Noble understood his meaning and they waited for Brook to elaborate. He failed to take up their invitation. ‘Anything else, ma’am?’ he offered finally.
‘Yes. Be certain Jason Wallis is in the clear before you let him back into the community, assuming he has any living relatives. Better get someone onto Social Services come to think of it. Find out where he and the baby
might go.’ Brook and Noble rose to leave. ‘And Inspector. You report directly to me on this. And only me.’
Brook nodded and ushered Noble out of the office. She knew. He could sense it in her demeanour. This was no domestic argument or spur of the moment killing. It was part of a series–the first as far as she was concerned. It made her uneasy, that was clear. And not just for the community at large. This could be a Godsend for the pack of hounds that dogged her every move.
Back in his office Brook drained his coffee and massaged his eyes. He reached for the envelope left by Noble and flicked it open.
The top picture showed the pathetic, spindly corpse of Kylie Wallis, marble white, sightless eyes. It caught Brook momentarily unprepared and he recoiled as though from a red hot poker. Careless. Being tired he’d forgotten to erect the shield around his emotions, as much a part of his daily routine as pulling on his trousers.
Once his feelings were correctly attired, he looked again and began to sift through the evidence, these peep shows of insanity, with the detachment of the automaton.
He paused over a photograph of the wine bottle before putting it on one side. Then he extracted and retained a couple of others. Noble entered with two cups of vending machine coffee.
‘We can land a spacecraft on Mars, John, but we still can’t create a machine to deliver a decent cup of coffee,’ Brook grimaced, as he sipped the frothy liquid. ‘Have you got a cigarette?’
‘I thought you’d quit.’
‘Cut down, John. There’s a difference.’
‘Just quit buying,’ Noble said with a playful grin. Brook decided to deliver the chuckle Noble required as payment and accepted the proffered cigarette, inhaling deeply even before Noble had extinguished his lighter.
‘Sir.’ Noble was suddenly uneasy. ‘I wanted to thank you…’–Brook glanced at Noble with a look of mild bemusement though he knew what was coming–‘…for not mentioning my cock-up last night.’ Brook smiled.
‘Forget it, John. It wasn’t your fault. You had good reason not to enter the crime scene, especially as another officer had told you there were no signs of life. I’m not sure I can be quite so forgiving with Aktar though. Tampering with the evidence is a very serious matter.’
‘What do you mean?’
Brook searched for the relevant photograph. ‘Remember the pizza, the Four Seasons? Look at it. What do you notice?’
‘Notice?’
‘Be boring and factual.’
Noble hesitated briefly, unsure of what was required of him. After a pause to verify Brook’s serious intent, Noble took a stab at it. ‘It’s a half-eaten…’
Brook raised an admonishing eyebrow to Noble who knew the signal well and corrected himself.
‘…partially-eaten pizza.’
‘Better.’
‘It’s had two pieces taken from it.’
‘Go on.’
Noble looked at a loss.
‘Describe the pieces, John.’
‘Well, one’s a triangle cut out of the ham and mushroom bit…’
‘Triangle,’ said Brook with heavy emphasis. Noble looked back at him, perplexed, trying not to laugh.
‘The other piece,’ Noble smiled suddenly, ‘is torn from the salami segment. This pizza could have been eaten by two different people. Presumably Jason Wallis tore a piece off…and someone else took the trouble to cut a slice. The killer?’ he said hopefully, before shaking his head the instant Brook shook his own. ‘Aktar. The…idiot,’ barked Noble with real venom, remembering to omit the adjective.
Brook decided not to string it out any longer. ‘And what happened to both of them?’
Noble nodded now. ‘They both collapsed. The pizzas were doctored in some way. That’s how the killer was able to cut the family’s throats without a struggle.’
‘Right.’
‘That’s why you asked me about Aktar’s weight. Jason’s just a skinny kid. He fell where he was eating, where there’s tomato sauce on the floor, but the drug would take longer to be ingested by a heavier man so he would have finished his piece and still have been able to move around for a while. People would think he’d fainted after seeing the bodies.’
‘That’s very impressive, John.’
‘What? Telling you what you already knew?’
‘I only knew because I was looking for it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well…I’ve seen this MO before.’
‘When?’
‘A long time ago.’
‘With throats cut and the blood on the walls?’
‘Similar.’
‘That’s how you knew there was a message for us.’
‘Yes.’
‘And the doctored pizza?’
‘No. That’s different. Things change each time–just enough to muddy the profile.’
‘But he immobilised and killed families?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who was the killer?’
‘We never found him.’
‘What…?’
‘I don’t want to say any more at the moment because the connection’s not certain. And I need you to keep an open mind about things so you can pull me up if I start barking up the wrong tree.’
‘Whatever you say.’ Noble was annoyed but did a good job of not showing it. ‘So what now?’
‘Now? Until we find the van we concentrate on the house.’
‘SOCO are still going over it.’
‘They won’t find anything.’
‘They might.’
‘Not a chance. The planning that went into this. He’s not going to take his gloves off and touch things, or get peckish and leave a perfect set of dentures in a lump of cheese.’
‘I guess not. He might have had a sip of wine though.’
‘Don’t bank on it. What about the weapon?’
‘Nothing so far.’
‘How many uniforms have you got looking?’
‘Dozens.’
‘Get more, at least for a day or two, and widen the search. Fingertip. Get onto the council and suspend refuse collection in the area. Search all dustbins and grates on the estate. We’re not going to find it but we need to have looked.’ Brook sighed and then yawned. This was the part of the job he hated most. Clearing away the debris, the procedural minutiae that delayed everything, prevented him bringing his skills to bear on the nub of the case. ‘There’s so much garbage to organise.’
‘When do we speak to Jason?’
‘This morning. But you’re going to Pizza Parlour first. We need to know how the killer set this up in case Jason doesn’t know.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well if Forensics confirms that the pizzas were drugged, it means our killer must have delivered them…’
‘So he’s used them to make sure the family are unconscious which suggests he came back later, after they’d been eaten.’
‘Right.’ Brook paused, waiting to see if his point had hit home.
‘But if he’s delivered them, how can Pizza Parlour have taken the order?’
‘Good question, John.’
Noble thought for a moment then his jaw dropped open. ‘Christ! The bastard rang the Wallis family. He’s taken the order pretending to be Pizza Parlour.’ Noble shook his head and squinted at the floor. ‘Hang on, you
wouldn’t order food from a takeaway that called out of the blue. Not unless they were giving it away.’ Noble looked up at Brook’s expectant face and smiled. ‘Maybe they were. Of course–a free meal like a promotion or prize or something. Who’s gonna turn that down? Was that the MO in the other case?’
‘We thought so. Though we never had any survivors to confirm it.’
‘But not pizzas.’
‘No. A video recorder and a CD system.’
‘Like winning a competition,’ Noble nodded with a smile. ‘Neat.’
Brook checked his watch and helped himself to another cigarette, looking at Noble for an objection. He lit up and took another huge pull. Soon the news would be hitting the streets of Derby. Not that he expected The Reaper to be within earshot. He was long gone.
Having roused his complaining car for the fourth time that morning, Brook dropped in at his flat on the way to the hospital. He needed to shower and change before meeting Noble there.
After showering he lay on the bed for five minutes and closed his eyes to relieve the stinging. Before he left, he rang the station to requisition a car for the afternoon. He couldn’t keep traipsing around in the Sprite. The water pump wouldn’t stand for it.
He booked a taxi to take him to the DRI. As he waited for the cab, he stared at the still-flashing answering machine, but decided against ringing Terri back.
Too often, in the last ten years, he’d danced around
his feelings for his daughter, curtailing difficult conversations with phoney interruptions. Sod’s Law dictated that the cab driver would honk his horn the moment he started talking to her. He didn’t want another, albeit genuine, interruption to reinforce her jaundiced view of his love for her. Now he needed to talk, needed to spend some time with her, even if all he could embrace was a disembodied voice.
Noble was late so Brook left him a message at hospital reception, telling him to wait. He didn’t want him seeing Jason Wallis on his own. Then he went to see PC Aktar. He was sitting up in bed reading
The Sun.
Fortunately, it wasn’t visiting hour so he was alone, though clearly his family had arrived with armfuls of provisions earlier that morning.
‘I hate to butt in on someone trying to improve himself Brook was amused by Aktar’s panic-stricken attempt to acknowledge his superior–lying horizontal in hospital-issue pyjamas–though he made sure he didn’t show it.
‘I’m sorry, guv. I wasn’t expectin’ yer, anybody…’
Brook noted Aktar’s broad northern accent. Not a trace of Asian inflection. He kept silent while Aktar flustered, determined to make him sweat. There was an empty plastic bag on a chair beside the bed. Brook picked it up and pulled out Aktar’s boots from the locker and slid them into the bag.
‘Give these to Noble when he comes in. Forensics needs all the shoes from the Wallis house.’
‘Guv? Is there…?’
Brook put a finger to his lips and held Aktar’s dark eyes in his own. ‘Don’t ever call me guv, Constable. If you’re still in the Force after today, you’ll call me sir or Inspector, is that clear?’
‘Guv?’
‘Is that clear?’
PC Aktar was suddenly very abashed and Brook began to feel sorry for him. ‘Yes sir.’
‘That’s better. Your career depends on the answers you give me in the next few minutes,’ said Brook, peeling one of the photographs he’d set aside earlier, from his jacket. ‘Look at this.’
‘Yes sir.’
‘What do you see?’
‘It’s the living room of Mr and Mrs…’
‘What do you see, Constable?’
‘The CD player in the Wallis house.’
‘What do you notice?’
‘N-Nothing, sir.’
‘Exactly. It’s been turned off. DS Noble tells me that a Mr Singh went round to the Wallis household to complain about the noise. Do you understand?’
‘Yes sir. I think so.’
‘Explain it to me then, Constable.’
‘It was Mr Singh, sir. He went round. Said the front door was open. He went in and turned off the CD player. Said it was on very loud. I told him he shouldn’t have but he said he had no idea, at that time, what had happened. Until he turned the lights on, he thought they were all asleep.’
‘The lights were off?’
‘Yes sir. According to Mr Singh.’
‘Then how did he manage to turn off the CD player?’
‘The display, sir. He said it was very bright, sir. He could see to move round the room okay and well…’
Brook’s tone softened. ‘I see.’ He tossed the picture of the partially eaten pizza towards Aktar who examined it briefly before looking away. He wouldn’t lift his eyes from the bed cover. He looked, and clearly felt, a fool. ‘You’re very lucky, Constable. I think we may be able to forgive one mistake as your actions haven’t compromised the case–this time.’
‘It won’t happen again, sir.’
‘It better not. And I wouldn’t mention it to anyone unless you want the Force and yourself held up to ridicule.’
‘Don’t worry, sir.’