The Disciple (28 page)

Charlton, Hudson and Grant watched Brook and Noble leave the office. As soon as the door closed, Charlton arranged to have Brook’s office computer taken away, to have the hard drive examined.

‘You don’t really believe this email guff, do you, guv?’ Grant said to Hudson. ‘It’s easily faked.’

‘Give me some credit, Laura. It’s about as convincing as the evidence that Brook’s The Reaper.’

‘What does that mean, Chief Inspector?’ asked Charlton.

‘This email is a pretty terrible alibi and Brook must know that,’ Hudson replied.

‘So?’

‘So, we’re looking for a killer who’s been active for nearly twenty years and Brook must know his methods better than anyone.’ Charlton was still confused. ‘In all those years, a viable Reaper suspect has never been identified. The Reaper’s killed two families in London, one in Leeds, two now in Derby. Five crime scenes. And what did Forensics find at the first four crime scenes?’

‘What?’ asked Charlton.

‘Nothing,’ said Grant. ‘No fingerprints, no DNA, no witnesses, no CCTV, no fibres. Nothing.’

‘Add to that the fact that The Reaper has no clear motive,’ added Hudson. ‘Even a copper as good as Brook can’t beat those odds.’

‘I see,’ said Charlton, clearly not seeing.

‘And now we’re supposed to believe that Damen Brook, the man who has hunted The Reaper for all these years, is actually The Reaper. If so, he wouldn’t be caught at the crime scene with only a poxy email as an alibi,’ said Hudson, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it before Charlton could object. ‘If someone as smart as Brook was The Reaper, he would’ve been better organised than that, believe me.’

‘Okay,’ nodded Charlton doubtfully.

‘And that’s not the only strange thing. Suddenly there’s more evidence at the Ingham house than we can shake a stick at. I spoke to one of the SOCOs. The killer used a mobile phone to alert the emergency services to the murders. Not only have we got a useable print on it, but we’re going to have the killer’s voice on tape.’

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ said Charlton. ‘It’ll tell us about Brook one way or the other.’

‘Yes. But it also tells us that either The Reaper has got very sloppy or we’re dealing with a copycat, like Brook says. Whatever you think of him, Brook is a brilliant detective. Believe me, nothing we have will point to him for this – nothing.’

Hudson took a large pull on his cigarette and exhaled towards the window, suddenly aware of Charlton’s aversion to the smoke.

‘What about this Sorenson that Brook talked about?’ asked Charlton.

‘You’re welcome to have a look, sir, but if there was no evidence to prove Sorenson was The Reaper when he was alive, it’ll be ten times harder if he is dead. And it almost certainly won’t help you with the Ingham investigation.’

‘Unless we can trace that email, guv.’

‘Don’t hold your breath, luv.’

‘And can you think why someone would want to copy The Reaper?’ asked Charlton.

‘Good question,’ said Hudson; Charlton tried to hide his pleasure. ‘His methods provide a workable blueprint for anybody wanting to be a serial killer,’ answered Hudson. ‘After all, he’s never been caught.’

‘But it doesn’t fit the profiles,’ added Grant.

‘Profiles?’ said Charlton.

‘Serial killers fall into two categories,’ explained Hudson.

‘By definition, the compulsive killer can’t stop himself,’ said Grant. ‘He repeats because he has a compulsion, one which eventually trips him up, because he has to kill even if it means taking risks.’

‘And there’s often a sexual angle, which generally leads to DNA,’ put in Hudson.

‘Then there’s The Reaper. A killer like that is more organised and gets his kicks from power, not sex. He enjoys the fear of the public and the inability of the police to find him. These killers use their crimes as a secret well of omnipotence, to dip into when their self-esteem needs it.’ Grant looked at her two superiors with a frown. ‘However…’

‘Problem?’ asked Charlton.

‘Vanity,’ said Hudson.

‘Right. This type of serial killer wouldn’t usually copy another killer’s MO. His ego needs to know he’s an original, a one-off. If caught, he can revel in that knowledge, show off his superiority.’

‘Then again, Laura, leaving a print is not evidence of great organisation.’

‘We still don’t know it’s the killer’s, guv.’

‘Well,’ said Charlton with an air of finality. ‘This is all very interesting but gets me no closer to solving my dilemma. Even if Brook scrubs up clean over last night, can I afford to keep him as SIO?’

Hudson smiled at Charlton. ‘Can I make one further suggest ion, sir?’

DI Brook and DS Noble hurried down the stairs two at a time and arrived at the entrance to the lab. The place seemed deserted so Noble rapped on a frosted glass door and entered. A portly, completely bald, middle-aged man chewing on a slice of pizza turned towards the door. He wore a white coat flecked with crumbs and sported an ID badge with a picture of a thin long-haired stranger, taken many years before, and the name ‘Donald Crump’.

‘Hello, John, Inspector Brook,’ Crump said, not looking at the senior officer. ‘What do you want? Haven’t you given us enough to do?’

‘Where’s Benny?’ asked Noble. ‘We need a quick scrape and tape. Clothes, fingernails, hair – the lot. Urgent.’

‘He’s next door sorting out the photos and sketches. Then he’s off to the mortuary to record the autopsies.’

‘You’ll have to do it then, Don,’ said Noble.

‘I’ve already got six sets of bloodstained clothing on their way over,’ Crump complained. Noble grinned and raised his eyebrows. ‘So it looks like I’ve got a bit of time to do a rush job,’ he added through gritted teeth. ‘I’ll get my gear. Where is it?’

‘Right here, Don.’

Crump turned around to see Inspector Brook removing his clothes.

It was afternoon by the time Brook got home. Noble had returned to the Drayfin Estate to coordinate activity around the murder scene so that the Chief Super could go into the press briefing fully informed. Meanwhile, the key pieces of evidence to emerge were being walked through by individual detectives. DS Morton was the exhibits officer and was following the bloodied mobile
phone through its various examinations, the lifting of the fingerprints being the most important. DS Gadd was walking through the scalpel, also to be tested for prints and DNA, and DS Grant was collating the information on the 999 call.

When he pulled up, Brook was relieved to see his new neighbour’s hire car was absent and he could pass unseen between his car and his front door. He was tired from his labours but Brook hadn’t come home to rest. Although unable to bring his skills to bear on the current case until formally cleared by Donald Crump’s various tests, his experience of The Reaper was a unique resource and Charlton was expecting him to deliver his opinions at the initial briefing.

However, much to his relief, Brook was to be allowed nowhere near the media. Charlton, at Josh Hudson’s instigation Brook suspected, would handle the public face of the inquiry and be its titular head, with the occasional support of one of the senior officers if needed. Both DCI Hudson and Brook, assuming he was cleared, would lead a joint taskforce investigation into the deaths at the Ingham house.

Brook had to admit he was impressed by this sleight of hand. Instead of throwing him off the investigation and creating a media storm, Hudson had ensured that Brook was kept close to the inquiry while at the same time seeing to it that his power to influence events would be severely restricted. Although nominally in charge, Brook knew he would be under intense scrutiny; his every move would need to be approved by Hudson and Charlton, both of whom would be mindful of any attempt to sabotage the hunt for The Reaper. As far as Hudson and Grant were concerned, regardless of forensic tests on his clothes, Brook would remain a suspect, and what better place to keep an eye on him than right under their noses?

After a quick shower and shave, Brook settled down with a cup of tea to gather his thoughts. He fired up the computer and clicked on his Hotmail account to double-check he’d already deleted the first email from the fake Reaper, the message congratulating
Brook on the murder of Tony Harvey-Ellis. He had, and he’d already emptied the deleted folder. Brook was confident he hadn’t opened the first email in his office so unless they took his home computer as well as his work laptop, it was unlikely the document would ever see the light of day again.

An hour later, Brook, suitably attired, went out to his car. He hesitated a moment, then flung the bag of protective clothing in the back seat and marched quickly round to the back garden of Drexler’s cottage. The Weber barbecue was still there – the same brand as the one at the Ingham house, whatever that was worth. He examined it briefly without knowing what he was looking for. On an impulse Brook knocked on the back door, though he knew Drexler was out. He turned the handle and was surprised to feel the door open.

‘Hello. Mike?’

Brook stepped into the small kitchen and looked around. He poked his head through the door into the tiny living room and noticed Drexler’s passport on the arm of a chair. Looking around furtively, Brook gathered it up and something fell onto the floor as he did so. Brook picked it up. It was a train ticket. He stared at it for longer than was really necessary, then flipped open the passport. When he found the page he wanted, he examined the immigration stamp closely. Putting the train ticket back inside the booklet, he placed it back on the arm of the chair. He left quickly, stepping smartly back to his BMW in case Drexler drove up and saw him.

The taxi pulled up outside the Midland Hotel and Grant and Hudson stepped out, walking quickly to the reception desk. They leaned against it pensively and waited to be noticed. ‘I only brought a holdall,’ said Grant.

‘Me too,’ answered Hudson, trying to get some attention from the hotel staff.

‘I mean, I’ll have to get some more clothes from somewhere,’ she insisted.

‘Funny. I’ve got enough for two weeks.’ Hudson grinned back at her.

She rolled her eyes. ‘See, guv, I tend not to wear clothes until they rot on my body.’

‘Interesting idea.’