DI Sean Corrigan Crime Series: 6-Book Collection: Cold Killing, Redemption of the Dead, The Keeper, The Network, The Toy Taker and The Jackdaw

‘What are the chances it belongs to our killer?’ he asked.

‘Unless there was another person here with the victim last night, I’d say it’s almost certainly the killer’s,’ Canning answered. ‘This hair wasn’t buried deep in amongst the victim’s. It was virtually sitting on top of hers, waiting to be found.’

Sean was still concerned. He wanted it to be absolute. In court it would have to be absolute. ‘How could that be?’ he asked. ‘A hair, with a root, just lying there?’

‘Most likely caused by the killer removing a head cover of some description,’ Canning surmised. ‘When you remove a hat or similar there is always a good chance you’ll pull a hair out, and often the root will come with it.’

‘So you think he took his off?’ Sean asked.

‘Yes. Hairs like this, with roots attached, don’t fall out naturally.’

‘Why the hell would he take his head cover off?’ Sean wondered.

‘That I can’t answer,’ Canning said. ‘But if he did take a head cover off, then we’ve a good chance of finding more hair on the body or around it. That would further diminish the possibility of an accidental transfer of hair from body to body at some other point during the day at another location.’ Sean understood the importance of eliminating that possibility. Defence solicitors had become skilled in arguing their way around forensic evidence.

The pathologist handed the evidence bag containing the hair to DC Zukov. He handled it as if it was an unstable bomb. Canning picked up his lamp again and began to examine the area around the body. He bent so low his face was almost on the carpet. Sean hadn’t blinked for minutes. He watched as Canning’s eyes suddenly narrowed. He saw him stretch out with his tweezers and snare the thin fibre. Canning looked directly at him.

‘It would seem the forensic gods are with us today, Inspector.’

‘The same?’ he asked.

‘I would say so,’ Canning answered. ‘This has a root too. DNA will no doubt confirm they come from the same person. If your killer’s on the National DNA Database, then it’ll be case closed for you.’

‘The man who did this isn’t on the database,’ Sean told him. ‘But that doesn’t matter, because I know where to find his DNA.’

Canning looked a little confused. ‘And where would that be?’

Sean answered: ‘In his blood.’

Hellier hadn’t been asked to see any clients in over two days. He no longer cared. Only a few weeks before he would have taken steps to ensure the firm weren’t trying to cut him out. Now it was irrelevant. The firm had served its purpose. He didn’t need them any more.

It was almost 6 p.m. Only he, Sebastian Gibran and the perfect secretary remained in the office. It was a shame he couldn’t be alone with the secretary. He would have liked to give the beautiful bitch a going-away present she wouldn’t forget, but he couldn’t risk it with Gibran lurking inside his office. Maybe sometime in the distant future their paths would cross again.

His mobile phone began to ring, the display telling himthe number had been withheld. Something told him he should answer.

‘James Hellier speaking.’

‘Mr Hellier. You are in great danger.’ It was him again.

‘Like I said earlier – you were supposed to meet me last night.’ Hellier sounded strong. He knew how to dominate. ‘I don’t like being fucked around.’

‘I just want to help you,’ the voice said. ‘You must believe me.’

‘Why?’ Hellier demanded. ‘Why do you want to help me? You don’t know me.’

‘Are you sure of that?’ the voice asked.

Hellier didn’t answer. He was thinking. The caller sensed his doubt.

‘Corrigan. I can give you something, show you something that’ll keep him away from you. Keep them all away from you.’

‘I’m not worried about the police.’ Hellier sounded insulted. ‘They can’t touch me.’

‘Yes, they can,’ the voice replied. ‘Corrigan. He’s not intending to take you to court. He won’t risk that.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Hellier began to sound more concerned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Meet me tomorrow night if you value your neck as much as I think you do.’

‘Where?’ Hellier asked.

‘Somewhere in central London. I’ll call you again tomorrow. At about seven. And don’t bring the police. They’re still following you.’

‘Wait a minute.’ Hellier was too late. The line was dead.

The three unmarked cars drove down the middle of Bayswater Road. Traffic on both sides yielded to their sirens and madly spinning blue lights. They were heading towards Knightsbridge. Towards Hellier.

Sean had the forensic evidence he’d been praying for. The killer had made a serious mistake, but it was too early to say anything other than that the hairs appeared to be the same colour as Hellier’s. Sandy.

Sally drove while Sean sat in the passenger seat. She broke the silent tension. ‘Maybe we should process the hair first, guv’nor. Get its DNA profile and compare it to the DNA database?’ She had to shout to be heard above the screaming sirens.

‘Hellier’s not on the DNA database, remember. He’s got no previous,’ Sean argued.

‘Maybe the hairs aren’t Hellier’s,’ Sally persisted. ‘We could process them first and have them compared to profiles on the database. It could show they belong to someone other than Hellier and then we’d have a cast-in-iron suspect. And if we don’t get a hit on the database, then it’ll point more strongly towards Hellier being our man.’

‘Believe me,’ he reassured her, ‘Hellier’s our man.’

‘Then why don’t we compare the samples to the ones we’ve already taken off Hellier?’ She referred to those taken in Belgravia police station at the beginning of the investigation into the murder of Daniel Graydon. ‘Then before we even arrest him we’d know he killed Linda Kotler.’

‘You know we can’t use them,’ Sean shouted above the noise inside the car. ‘That was a different murder. We’d be slaughtered if we were ever found out.’ It was true. They couldn’t use elimination samples taken from a suspect or witness for one crime to prove they were involved in another. The suspect would have to be told specifically what investigation their samples were being used in, or they would be deemed to have been taken illegally.

‘Maybe we could do it so no one would know?’ Sally continued. ‘Just do it so we would know for sure it was Hellier. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t mention it in his initial interview, keep it to ourselves, then do it legally. Take new samples, whatever we have to, but at least we would know it was him. Interview him and let him hang himself with lies.’

‘No.’ Sean shook his head. ‘I can’t risk that. We do it properly. It’s Hellier, I know it. There’s no need to take shortcuts.’

Sally gripped the steering wheel harder and said nothing.

Sean tapped the number of the surveillance team leader into his mobile.

‘DS Handy.’ Sean could hear the radio chatter in the background.

‘Don – Sean. Where’s my man?’

‘He’s on the move,’ said DS Handy. ‘Just left his office on foot.’

‘Heading home?’ Sean asked.

‘Heading to the Tube station.’