The Reaper

‘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…’