Friday, 27 May
Brook’s nose was the first of his senses to return. He could smell a sickly-sweet chemical odour that told him immediately he was in a hospital. He hated hospitals. People died in them. People he knew.
‘Welcome back, sir.’
Brook opened his eyes to pain and closed them at once. When the pain remained he opened them again to see Noble, grinning at him. Terri stood next to him and grabbed his hand.
‘Dad, are you okay?’
‘Never better,’ he groaned and tried to sit up but thought better of it immediately.
‘What happened?’ asked Noble.
‘Somebody hit me. I think.’
‘One of the tramps,’ began Noble.
‘Well, well,’ said another voice. ‘How’s my patient? No, I wouldn’t advise moving for an hour or two, Inspector.’
Brook brought his hand to his nose and sniffed. ‘Whisky.’
‘Yes, we thought you were a down-and-out at first, what with the clothes and all.’ Brook narrowed a beady eye at the young doctor, who continued to study Brook’s chart, oblivious to the implication. ‘Probably why people left you lying in the street so long.’ Terri and Noble stood by, trying not to smile. ‘But your blood alcohol was low so we had to rethink. It’s lucky no one took your mobile phone or we wouldn’t have been able to ring your daughter and your colleague.’
‘They probably looked at him and thought he couldn’t afford one.’ Terri laughed.
Brook ignored her. ‘Doctor. .’
‘. . Roberts,’ smiled the young physician. ‘No need to worry. You’ve had four stitches in a head wound and you’re going to have headaches for a day or two, but that will pass. You may have a slight concussion but I don’t think we need to admit you. Don’t drive for a couple of days, drink lots of hot sweet tea and see your GP in a week for a check-up. Peace and quiet should do the trick — shouldn’t be a problem for someone with only two contact numbers on speed dial.’ He joked, ‘I envy you, Inspector. My phone rings so often I can’t hear myself think.’
‘Lucky you,’ observed Brook drily.
The doctor moved to the privacy screen. ‘Back in a moment.’
‘What time is it?’ asked Brook, after Roberts had left.
‘Four o’clock,’ said Noble.
‘In the afternoon!’ exclaimed Brook. ‘We’ve missed the Deity broadcast.’
‘No, we haven’t,’ said Terri, indicating a laptop case under her arm.
‘You’ve seen it?’ he asked. And when Terri and Noble nodded, tight-lipped, ‘Well?’
‘Best you see it for yourself when you’re better, Dad.’
‘When’s the next one?’
‘Three o’clock tomorrow.’
‘And college?’
‘It wasn’t a complete waste of time,’ answered Noble. ‘We’re still collating.’
‘Oh, you’re collating, are you?’ Brook said tiredly. ‘When are you briefing?’
‘Sir, we can handle things without you for a couple of days,’ said Noble, looking at Terri for support.
‘You need to rest, Dad. I’ll take you home.’
‘I’m fine.’ He looked around for his jacket and began to sit up.
‘Dad, you heard the doctor.’
‘When are you briefing?’ Brook insisted.
‘In an hour.’
Brook nodded. ‘Good. Where’s my car?’
‘Outside,’ said Noble. ‘Terri gave me a lift so I could drive it back to St Mary’s. The ambulance-’
‘Ambulance,’ Brook remembered, staring at Noble. ‘It was an ambulance driver that hit me.’
Noble looked quizzically at Brook. ‘Sir, I. .’
‘Not a real one, John. I mean, it was a real ambulance, or had been at one time, but the driver must have been Ozzy Reece. He was taking Phil from the house to the ambulance.’
‘Phil?’
‘Phil Ward. He was one of the tramps.’
‘You got a name?’ asked Noble.
Brook hesitated. ‘I knew him once — at university. I ran against him.’ He decided not to mention the lap and a half. ‘He was there in the squat when I was undercover. And now thanks to me, he’s the next victim.’
‘Funny he’s abducted this Phil when he hasn’t dumped Jock’s body yet.’
‘We don’t know he hasn’t dumped him, just that we haven’t found it.’ Brook flicked his eyes in Terri’s direction to tell Noble they shouldn’t be discussing corpses in front of her. She caught it.
‘Dad, I’m a big girl now.’
‘How the hell does a university graduate end up sleeping rough?’ said Noble.
Brook looked into Terri’s eyes as he spoke. ‘Weakness.’
‘An ambulance,’ said Noble. ‘That does make sense. People are rarely suspicious of ambulances and it would be much easier for one person to manhandle a body off a bridge from a trolley. Did you get a look at him?’
‘Only briefly. Middle-aged. Well built. And a slight northern accent.’
‘Is that all?’
Brook remembered with a flush of guilt that he’d fallen asleep and was barely awake when he’d approached the ambulance. ‘The lights were very bright.’ He swung his legs gingerly to the floor.
Dr Roberts returned. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Don’t want to take up a valuable Casualty bed, Doctor. I’m fine.’
‘You’re not fine, you need rest.’
Brook thrust his hand into the doctor’s and shook it. ‘Thanks, Doctor, I know.’ Then he marched out a little unsteadily, flanked by Terri and Noble.
Brook examined the artist’s composite of Ozzy Reece.
‘Ring any bells, sir?’ asked Gadd.
Brook stared at the face, trying to place it. He had the feeling it was a face he’d seen before. ‘It could be the ambulance driver. It’s pretty nondescript.’ Brook glanced at Gadd — she was holding her head away from him. Brook sniffed his arm. He still stank of whisky but had no clean clothes in his locker. ‘How many people contributed?’
‘Two of the hearse drivers at Duxbury and Duxbury. They’re adamant it’s a good likeness.’
‘Okay. Put it out there. On the ambulance angle, assuming it’s a rogue. .’ began Brook.
‘. . we nail down the whereabouts of the bona fide fleet between four and five this morning and maybe we can match up some CCTV to The Embalmer’s vehicle,’ said Gadd. ‘On it. Also I’ve set DC Read and DC Smee on to the private companies who sell secondhand ambulances. There are more than you’d think.’
Brook raised an eyebrow. ‘Read and Smee?’
‘The Chief assigned them to me to take over surveillance but I assume we’re scrapping that.’
‘We are. Reece won’t go back to Leopold Street now he knows we’re on to him. Clear it out and get a SOCO team in to go over the place.’
‘Already in motion, though SOCO are getting pretty stretched,’ said Gadd. ‘On the plus side, I got a batch number from some of the bottles of barley wine and whisky I picked up last night. We’ve traced them to a Cash and Carry in Nottingham that took a bulk order from an Oz Reece.’
‘Any details? Credit card? Address?’
Gadd shook her head. ‘The clue’s in the name. We got a mobile number but it’s a dud.’
‘Cameras?’
‘Too long ago for film.’
Brook nodded and went to sit on a desk at the back of the darkened Incident Room, trying to tune out the pounding in his head. Charlton came to sit next to him. He looked over at Brook’s bandaged head and grimaced when the odour of whisky hit his nostrils but he didn’t offer comment.
Terri had gone for a walk around the centre of Derby. Brook had tried to persuade Charlton that Terri should stay and offer valuable insights into the teenage psyche but Charlton wasn’t to be swayed and Brook didn’t have the strength to argue.
The whiteboard screen came to life at Noble’s bidding and the Deity film started. For four minutes the officers in the room watched spellbound, despite this being the second viewing for some. Brook immediately recognised Becky Blake from her photo. She was sitting in her bedroom. The picture was a little jumpy at first and it was hard to see what she was doing. Fortunately the picture improved and the bright lighting around her make-up table clearly showed Becky’s reflection in the mirror. She was sitting on her bed working on her laptop.
Brook was unsure if she was aware that she was being filmed but, a moment later, something changed in her manner, and as a result she put the laptop aside and moved to stand in front of the mirror. He could see Becky was scantily clad and a second later she began to sway, gently at first, then with more rhythm and purpose. The dance ended with Becky allowing her slip to fall to the floor and she turned to stand naked, gazing directly out of the window at the camera. Luckily Charlton’s presence ensured the absence of ribaldry that might otherwise have accompanied this finale.
The film ended abruptly and Rob Morton switched on the lights.
Terri was right. First violence, then sex.
‘That’s Becky Blake,’ said Noble. ‘And that’s definitely her bedroom.’ Even Charlton’s presence couldn’t stop the few sly grins at the implication. ‘The film was shot from outside the house from the branch of a tree, and I’ve sent a Scientific Support van to do a quick sweep of the exterior but we’re not hopeful.’
‘The same film has also been uploaded on to YouTube and is getting hundreds of hits. It’s being recirculated on Twitter and probably linked in emails and texts,’ announced DC Cooper.
‘The switchboard says press and TV are clamouring for information,’ said Charlton. ‘If it’s viral, we can’t sit on this even if we wanted to, so for once, we get the media to help us.’
‘Agreed,’ said Brook.
‘This second broadcast,’ said Charlton. ‘Is this supposed to be Russell Thomson filming again?’
‘It’s an assumption,’ said Brook. ‘But a fair one.’
‘Any sightings yet?’ asked Charlton.
‘Not one,’ replied Noble.
‘These kids are still in the country, presumably.’
‘Far as we know, sir,’ replied Noble. ‘But as yet we know nothing about their whereabouts once the party started. We got nothing from door-to-door around the Kennedy house. No cabs picked them up. There’s no relevant CCTV on the estate. No reports of suspicious vehicles or vans.’
‘We’re sure the students were at the party?’ said Charlton.
‘Adele and Becky were both seen walking up to the house. We assume Kyle was there because he lives there. No sighting of Russell but it doesn’t mean he wasn’t there.’
‘What about the house? Has SOCO found anything?’ Charlton again.
‘The blood and tissue on the plaster is still our best lead,’ said Noble. ‘The lab is doing DNA comparisons as we speak.’
‘Against what?’
‘We’ve got Kyle, Becky and Adele’s toothbrushes.’
‘But not Russell Thomson’s?’ queried Charlton.
‘No. One other thing,’ added Noble. ‘They found a few traces of white powder on the carpet.’
‘Drugs?’
‘Talcum powder.’
‘Talcum powder?’ echoed Brook.
Noble shrugged. ‘No telling how long it’s been there.’
‘What would they use that for?’ Charlton asked.
‘Maybe one of them had nappy rash,’ offered a grinning Cooper. His mirth subsided quickly under Charlton’s glare.
‘Or maybe Len had damp feet six months ago,’ said Brook. ‘It’s meaningless without context.’ He looked at the screen. ‘Any chance of tracing these. .’ he waved a hand in the air looking for the technical jargon.
‘Uploads?’ suggested Cooper. ‘Yes and no.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means they can identify the profile of a computer accessing a website via its Internet Protocol address,’ said Noble.
‘And trace any uploads to an actual physical address,’ continued Cooper.
Brook narrowed his eyes. ‘I’m not sure what you just said but I’m sensing bad news.’
‘While you were in hospital we traced the first upload,’ said Charlton.
‘Elsie Shaw. An eighty-year-old widow who lives in Robincroft Road, Allestree,’ announced Cooper, gesturing at a blue pin in the map of Derby. ‘She had Broadband fitted so she could Skype her grandchildren in Canada. Unfortunately she didn’t secure her router.’
‘In English, please,’ said Brook.
‘With wireless technology, anybody with a modern laptop and a little knowledge can piggyback somebody else’s system,’ explained Noble.
‘Especially if they don’t need a password,’ added Cooper.
‘So the first Deity broadcast was uploaded to Deity from her address,’ said Brook slowly.
‘Right,’ said Noble.
‘But being wireless it could have been done from a house in the next street or even a car parked outside,’ added Cooper.
‘You went round there?’
‘In numbers,’ smiled Noble. ‘Poor old girl got quite a shock seeing six of our finest banging on her door.’
‘And how many of these unsecured routers are there?’
‘In Derby?’ said Cooper. ‘Hundreds, I would think. People don’t take internet security seriously enough.’
‘So Deity can pick and choose where to access the site,’ nodded Brook.
‘I thought we had all their laptops anyway?’ said Morton.
‘Doesn’t mean they don’t have another,’ said Noble.
‘Did we look at Thomson’s laptop yet?’ asked Brook.
Cooper nodded. ‘Same as the others. Professionally wiped.’
‘On the plus side we do have the fruits of the Watson house,’ said Noble, indicating the photocopies of Adele’s diary and notebook on the array. ‘Her computer was wiped like the others but there’s some pretty strong stuff about Adam Rifkind and her father in the diary, as well as other things she wants to get off her chest. No direct clue to her whereabouts, but as to her intentions, there’s this on the last page of her diary.’ Noble held up the copy of the page containing just three words. time to die.
‘That’s a line from Blade Runner,’ said Gadd.
‘It is,’ said Noble. ‘And there’s a poster of the film on Russell Thomson’s bedroom wall. Another connection between Adele and Russell.’
‘It doesn’t mean they’re intent on suicide,’ said Brook.
‘All part of messing with our heads,’ Charlton said heavily. ‘Let’s hope. Any prints?’
‘Her father’s, obviously. And another set that match all the other prints taken from Adele’s bedroom. Without her here for a match, we’re assuming they’re hers. We’re also ESDA testing the surface below the missing pages. See if we can read what was on them from the indentations.’
‘What about this website?’ said Charlton, pointing at the screen. ‘Can we close it down?’
‘The host server’s in this country, so yes, we can start the ball rolling,’ said Cooper.
‘The question is, do we want to?’ said Brook. ‘Like it or not, this site is our direct line to Adele Watson and the other students. It’s their mouthpiece. Ordinarily I would want to cut off their supply of publicity and maybe drive them into the open. However, she — they — have been very clever unloading the broadcasts to YouTube. .’
‘So they can continue reaching their audience even if we close their site,’ Charlton finished. ‘You’re right, keep it open. What was this boyfriend’s reaction to the site?’
‘Rifkind? He didn’t even know it existed until we told him,’ said Cooper.
‘And do we believe him?’
‘I think so,’ said Brook. ‘He can’t be so stupid as to set up a website with his own credit card knowing it was going to be used like this. He’s getting nothing out of this except our scrutiny of his dubious sexual behaviour. Adele Watson played it beautifully. She gave him to us on a plate.’
‘You seem very sure this girl’s the ringleader, Inspector,’ said Charlton.
‘That’s because she’s the smartest, sir. She’s thoughtful and reflective, she’s a writer and a poet so she’s used to making things up. But she had two things wrong with her life — a boyfriend who used then dumped her, and a father, if you believe her diary, who lusted after her. And what happens after she vanishes? Her father’s been cautioned for obstruction and Rifkind is a suspect in her disappearance. He’s paid for the Deity website with a credit card to which she probably had access, and endorsed passport applications for two of the missing students.’
‘So as a suspect, he’s a bit obvious,’ Charlton commented.
‘I’m sure Adele knows that,’ said Brook. ‘She just wants to embarrass him.’
‘But the website was created months before they broke up,’ Cooper objected.
Brook smiled at him. ‘That tells us how long this has been planned and that actually Adele was using Rifkind, not the other way round.’
‘Couldn’t somebody else have borrowed his credit card and set this up?’ muttered Charlton.
Brook shrugged. ‘Who?’
‘Is Rifkind married?’
‘He is,’ said Noble. ‘His wife is Carly, a twenty-three-year-old former student — of Rifkind’s, I mean. She’s seven months’ pregnant with their first child.’
‘He likes ’em young,’ chipped in Cooper.
‘Sounds unlikely she’d be up for wrecking her husband’s life,’ said Charlton. ‘Unless she found out about the affair. Hell hath no fury and all that. Somebody should speak to her.’
‘Can’t hurt,’ said Brook unenthusiastically.
‘Did Rifkind deny endorsing the passport photographs?’ continued Morton.
‘No, why would he?’ said Noble. ‘He didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘Tell me we got something useful from the college today,’ said Charlton. ‘That was a lot of expensive manpower.’
Noble smiled weakly at DS Morton who flicked open his notebook. ‘Fern Stretton, Becky Blake’s best friend, got a text from her before she disappeared. The next time you hear my name you’re going to be soooooooooo jealous.’ Morton grinned. ‘That’s ten Os, incidentally.’
‘Jealous of what?’ asked Charlton. ‘Becky’s sudden fame? Is that what this is about?’
Brook smiled his agreement. ‘We can’t discount it.’
‘To kids now, in a world of instant celebrity, fame is everything,’ said Noble. ‘You’ve only got to watch some of the drooling vegetables auditioning for X Factor.’
‘And even the completely talentless can be king for a day if they get slagged off badly enough and it goes viral,’ agreed Cooper.
Brook bowed to superior knowledge, if not vocabulary. He was lost when it came to young people and their tastes.
‘For the record, Fern texted back but got no reply,’ said Morton. ‘That was the day of the party. Fern says she hasn’t heard from her since and insists to anybody who’ll listen that she’s abroad somewhere. According to Becky’s mobile phone records, that was the last text or phone call she ever made. Kyle Kennedy also used his mobile for the last time on the night of the party. He made a call to Jake McKenzie the night before and sent a text to his mum in Chester on Friday to say he was fine. Then nothing.
‘Interestingly, Adele and Russell were even more extreme,’ continued Morton. ‘There was no record of any activity on their phones the day before the party — or since, obviously.’
‘They shut up shop on the Thursday?’ said Brook.
‘Right. We’re also checking all recent texts and calls for the four of them, against the list of known contacts — but so far we’ve seen nothing untoward.’
‘No common number texting or phoning all four?’ asked Cooper.
‘No.’
‘Strict radio silence,’ said Brook. ‘Clever. Maybe Russell Thomson’s her second-in-command. It would make sense. He had the DVD and he’s the one with the camcorder.’
‘And he arrived in Derby just before the website was set up,’ added Noble.
‘Good point. So what next?’ asked Charlton.
‘We’ve done all the heavy lifting for now,’ said Noble. ‘A blank on bins and grates around the house. We’ve interviewed most of the students and college staff. We can take a longer look at the parents and maybe re-interview.’
‘What about the fields?’ said Brook.
‘Fields?’ echoed Charlton.
‘If these kids left on foot, which looks likely, they would have taken the path at the back of the house.’ He indicated the large map on the wall. ‘There’s a large area to cover but they could have walked along the path round the back of the college.’
‘Or even gone across the fields through the woods,’ said Morton, pointing. ‘The A38 runs past. They could have been picked up from there.’
Charlton nodded reluctantly. ‘That’s a lot of manpower. Check the A38 cameras first.’
‘Maybe they’re hiding in the woods,’ suggested Cooper. ‘Or even dead.’
‘Unlikely, Dave,’ said Noble. ‘Kids mess about in there. They would’ve been found by now.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Okay,’ said Charlton testily. ‘Get uniform on it.’
‘Fingertip?’ asked Noble.
Charlton glanced at Brook for help in protecting the budget.
‘Not without evidence of foul play,’ said Brook. ‘They’re not going to be there, dead or alive, but we need to have looked.’
Charlton tried to hide his relief. ‘Anything else?’
‘What about Jake McKenzie and Wilson Woodrow?’ asked Brook.
‘Remind me,’ said Charlton.
‘McKenzie was one of the lads in the happy-slapping film,’ replied Noble. ‘He wasn’t in college today. Neither was Wilson Woodrow. We showed the first film to Rifkind. Woodrow was the boy who laid out Kyle Kennedy in the assault. Rifkind confirmed there was some kind of bust-up between all three of them in his lesson the day before the party. Woodrow made some homophobic comments and went for Kennedy, and Jake stepped in. We’ve got addresses.’
‘Okay,’ said Charlton. ‘I think we’ve got all we need for the press briefing.’ He eyed Brook’s bandaged head. ‘How are you feeling, Inspector?’
‘Actually, not so good.’ Brook groped for a chair and lowered himself gingerly into it.
Charlton narrowed his eyes. ‘You took a heavy blow. Maybe it’s concussion.’
‘I’ll be okay.’
‘You’d better sit this one out. That bandage would be a distraction. Get some rest. DS Noble, fancy a bit of the lime-light?’ Noble’s ashen face told its own story but he managed to smile weakly. ‘Good.’ Charlton made to leave.
‘Sir?’ said Brook. ‘Can I have a word?’
‘I’m listening.’
‘In private.’
Charlton looked at his watch. ‘My office in half an hour,’ he said as he left.
‘Are you well enough to hear about Yvette Thomson, sir?’ said Noble sarcastically, brandishing a wad of papers.
Brook smiled. ‘I’ll try to stay conscious.’
‘Bad news, sir. She’s Welsh.’ Brook raised a disapproving eyebrow at Noble. ‘Born 1978 so she’s thirty-three years old, originally from St Asaph in North Wales. It’s near Rhyl, if that helps at all. She was an orphan from the age of nine, when her mother died of an overdose of painkillers in 1987.’
Brook nodded. ‘An orphan. Of course.’ Noble looked bemused. ‘She seems. . needy,’ Brook explained. ‘How long did she spend there?’
‘The next seven years — St Asaph’s School for Boys and Girls — an orphanage in all but name. In 1993 Yvette had a baby — Russell. Her only child. No record of the father. Mother and child stayed at the orphanage until she left in 1994 to move to Chester.’
‘She was only fifteen when she gave birth?’
‘Older than many,’ said Noble.
‘And they didn’t take the baby from her?’
‘And do what?’ asked Noble. ‘Put it in an orphanage?’
Brook conceded with a shrug. ‘It’s still odd. Social Services would normally intervene; maybe put the child up for adoption. Ever married?’
‘No. And she seems to have survived on benefits for most of her life. There’s no record of any employment until she’s twenty when she moves and becomes a teaching assistant at a primary school in Whitchurch, in 1998, just over the border in Shropshire. The following year, she moves to Uttoxeter. She’s jobless and again surviving on benefits. In 2003, when Russell was ten, she returned to North Wales where she moved around at regular intervals — hardly a settled life. Six months ago, she and Russell turn up in Derby where Russell was enrolled at Derby College.’
‘What about the rumours of bullying?’
‘I’m still waiting to hear from some of the schools, but two that responded say Russell wasn’t with them long but he was very impressionable and he was bullied. They stopped short of saying that’s why Russell was taken out of their schools. But reading between the lines. .’
Brook nodded. ‘No wonder it was hard to hold down a job. Any other employment?’
‘Nothing. But she might have done casual work,’ said Noble.
‘She mentioned bar work.’
‘I spoke to Rifkind. He didn’t know the details about the last move but he’d heard there’d been some kind of cyberbullying.’
‘Cyber-bullying?’
‘It’s using social network-’
‘I know what it is, John. But didn’t Cooper say Russell and the others unsubscribed from Facebook on the day of the party?’
‘So?’
‘So why would Russell even have a Facebook account if he’d been bullied online?’
Noble shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
Brook sighed. ‘Okay. I’m meeting Terri in the car park in forty minutes. Text me Jake McKenzie’s address, John. I’ll meet you there at eight tomorrow morning. He and this Wilson Woodrow are overdue a visit.’
Noble picked up a clear plastic bag from the floor. ‘You said you wanted these books of Adele’s. They’ve been processed.’
‘Anything?’
‘A few handwritten notes in the texts. Nothing jumped out.’
‘Okay. What’s that?’ asked Brook, nodding at a second bag.
‘Russell Thomson’s computer. We’re so stretched we haven’t assigned a FLO to return it to Miss Thomson yet.’
Brook picked up the bag. ‘It’s on my way. I’ll take it. Speaking of liaison, you’d better get someone round to Fred Blake’s house in case they don’t know about Becky’s striptease yet. They ought to hear about it from us before they see it on the news.’
Brook’s mobile vibrated. It was Dr Petty. Noble pointed towards the door and left the office.
‘Inspector, I hope you don’t mind me ringing, but you didn’t reply to my email.’
‘Your email?’ Brook set down the various bags on a desk and quickly logged on to his internal email account. ‘I’ve not had a lot of time to reply,’ he said, trying to stall. When the screen filled with unopened emails, Brook scanned down the list. He found a day-old reply from Dr Petty to his enquiry about Egypt and opened it.
Dear Damen,
Egypt does indeed come under ancient anatomy. And they were one of the first civilisations to embalm their dead. I was on a similar wavelength so I’d already done some digging — no pun intended. There was a tradition of removing the brain through the nostrils when preparing the dead for the afterlife. I can’t find a name for the tool though.
AnnP
Her mobile phone number was prominent. ‘Ye-es,’ he said. ‘I’ve read it. Very helpful.’
‘It gets better. I’ve looked through three or four websites. Egyptian burial rites changed many times over the centuries but they all agree that to aid preservation of the bodies, all the organs were removed and placed in a large earthenware jar with a lid, called a canopic jar, and placed at the foot of the embalmed body. The interesting thing is the organs were removed via an incision in the left side, just like McTiernan and Kirk. But here’s the best part. The priests in charge of the procedure would then put the heart back because they believed it contained the soul, which the deceased would need for the afterlife.’
‘That is interesting,’ said Brook. ‘Anything else?’
‘That’s it for now.’
Brook put down his pencil, not sure how to end the conversation. ‘I owe you one.’
‘Really? I hear Darley’s does good food.’
‘I’d like to be put back in charge of The Embalmer case, sir. DS Noble can handle the missing students.’
‘Think DS Gadd’s out of her depth?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Then why?’
‘I should’ve thought that was obvious, sir. We’ve got two mutilated bodies and two more missing, probably facing the same fate.’
‘Two vagrants who died of alcohol poisoning, Inspector. Occupational hazard.’
‘Sir, Phil Ward was taken last night. I saw it happen. He’s the first definite abduction and it’s likely the other three were the same. It’s unlikely these men are just dying around The Embalmer and it’s not a huge stretch to assume he’s hastening their deaths before he cuts them open.’
‘There’s still no evidence of that,’ retorted Charlton.
‘I’m also worried about escalation. Leopold Street is compromised. If he thinks his supply is being cut off. .’
‘You mean he might turn his attention to real people,’ nodded Charlton. ‘It did occur to me.’ His expression softened. ‘You’re right. Assault and abduction is a step up from stealing cadavers.’
‘So I’m back on the case?’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Sir, these missing students. .’
‘. . are no longer just an internet sensation.’ Charlton picked up a pile of newspapers and dropped them on Brook’s lap. ‘The Times, the Telegraph, the Guardian and, needless to say, all the tabloids have picked up the story. I’ve had BBC and ITN reporters ringing the Press Office about this afternoon’s Deity broadcast and likely they’ll be running with it tonight. So you see, it doesn’t matter if these kids are sunbathing in Wembley Stadium, Inspector. Until we find them and put this to bed, this is your priority.’
‘So Ozzy Reece. .’
‘. . is being sought by a very able detective.’ Charlton rubbed his chin. ‘Look, you’ve got my permission to offer advice at every stage. Gadd’s got extra people. If there’s anything else you think we need to do, tell me.’
‘We need to go public. We need people to be on the lookout for the ambulance, get the facial composite of Ozzy Reece into the local press and TV and put his name out there.’
‘Isn’t it an alias?’ said Charlton.
‘Doesn’t mean he hasn’t used it in front of others.’
‘Okay. And for good measure get Noble to prepare a statement for the end of our media briefing this afternoon,’ said Charlton. ‘Would that suit?’
‘It would,’ replied Brook. ‘And after that, maybe we could go door-to-door in Shardlow.’
‘Shardlow?’
‘There’s a chance that’s where he lives.’
Charlton’s expression became pained but he knew not to mention budgets again to Brook. ‘Let’s see what the media can throw up for us first.’
Brook stood next to Terri’s VW in the station car park, bringing Noble up to speed on the phone.
‘Should I mention any of this in the briefing?’ asked Noble.
‘Yes, but keep it broad. The suspect is English but may have a keen interest in Egypt, may have visited or even lived there. Something like that. I printed off Petty’s email for Jane so she can chase up the Interpol inquiry. She’s also putting in calls to the Foreign Office and the British Council, see if that shakes anything out. If Reece ever lived in Egypt he may have done something similar and hopefully there’s a record.’
‘You know we’re going to get nothing, the state the country’s in.’
Brook rang off and waved to Terri, who was walking towards him beside a tall young man with short, bleach-blond hair, deep blue eyes and a neat beard. He wore a back-to-front baseball cap on his head and casual but smart clothing. Brook was faintly pleased to see his trousers weren’t held up by his knees. He carried several boxes and bags, only one of which appeared to be his. Terri was smiling and flirting all the way and only looked towards her father when she was in earshot.
‘Hi, Dad.’ She grinned.
Brook nodded. ‘If you’re busy, I can drive myself home, Terri.’
She blushed and looked at her companion. ‘Dad, this is Ray. He’s studying Law at Derby University. He helped carry my shopping.’
‘Hello, Ray,’ said Brook. ‘Another lawyer — great.’
‘Hello, sir.’ Ray beamed. ‘Where shall I put these, Terri?’
She opened the boot and the obliging Ray packed the bags and boxes in the small space, while Brook ran his eye over the young man, looking for tattoos. What he could see of his hands and arms were blemish-free so Brook stopped playing protector and ambled a few yards away to give them some space.
‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ Terri gushed.
‘I thought we already covered that,’ he teased.
‘I know,’ she said, a little embarrassed. ‘But I’m doing a dissertation and I’m staying with my dad.’
‘Don’t put me in the middle of this,’ Brook shouted over, pleased to be able to embarrass her.
‘There you are, Terri. Your dad knows work isn’t everything.’
Terri looked at her father. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure.’ She laughed her submission. ‘I’ve got your number, okay.’
‘Fair enough,’ replied Ray. ‘Nice meeting you, sir,’ he said to Brook, waving a farewell to Terri and wiggling his hand in the internationally accepted sign for ‘Call me’.
‘You didn’t waste much time,’ said Brook, restraining a smile.
Terri glanced at him. ‘I’m twenty already, Dad. There isn’t much time to waste.’