‘No, but I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see me.’ Carol gave him a challenging stare. It had defeated stronger men than him.
‘I’ll just call him,’ he said. ‘Who shall I say it is?’
‘Carol Jordan. Detective Chief Inspector Carol Jordan.’ Now she could afford the charming smile.
‘Mr Blake? I have Carol Jordan here to see you . . . Yes . . . Fine, I’ll send her up.’ He put the phone down and ushered her towards the lifts. When the door opened, he reached past her and pressed the button for the top floor. Before she could enter, her phone rang.
She held up one finger. ‘Sorry. I have to take this.’ She stepped away from him and answered the call. ‘Kevin,’ she said. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Looks like we’ve found Niall.’ The heaviness of his voice told her the lad hadn’t shown up at his mother’s flat with an unrepentant grin.
‘Where?’
‘Between Bradfield and Manchester, on a forestry road by the big Stonegait reservoir.’
‘Who found him?’
‘We don’t know. It was an anonymous tip on the triple niner. From a phone box in Rochdale. I went over with a team from Southern. We found him right away. Looks like he’s been there a few hours. The wildlife’s been snacking. It’s not pretty.’
‘Same MO?’
‘Identical. This is number three, no doubt in my mind.’
Carol massaged her scalp, feeling a dull headache beginning at the base of her skull. ‘OK. Stay with it. I’m about to talk to Blake. Tony had some interesting stuff to say. Is Sam still at the mother’s?’
‘I think so. Stacey too. Not that she’s the one you’d choose for the death knock.’
‘Get an FLO round there from Southern to liaise with Sam. I’ll be back at the office once I’ve talked to Blake. This is a nightmare,’ she sighed. ‘Those poor bloody kids.’
‘He’s on a tear,’ Kevin said. ‘He’s hardly pausing for breath now. Just culling them.’ His voice cracked. ‘How’s he doing it? What kind of animal is he?’
‘He’s managing to do it so fast because he’s got them groomed and prepped already,’ Carol said. ‘And because he doesn’t spend time with them once he’s taken them. We’re going to get him, Kevin. We can do this.’ She tried to project a confidence she didn’t feel.
‘If you say so.’ His voice dragged. ‘Talk to you later.’
Carol closed her phone and leaned her forehead against a marble pillar for a moment before she gathered herself together and headed back to the patient doorman and the lift.
Blake was waiting by the doors when she emerged. She suspected he was wearing what passed for casual in his wardrobe - an open-necked Tattersall check shirt tucked into fawn twill slacks, leather slippers on his feet. She wondered what the other tenants made of someone so lacking in what passed for cool in these parts. ‘DCI Jordan,’ he said, his voice and expression equally sour. Not delighted, then.
‘They’ve just found Niall Quantick,’ she said.
He jumped on her words with hope. ‘Alive?’
‘No. It looks like the same killer.’
Blake shook his head gravely. ‘You’d better come in. My wife’s here, by the way.’ He turned and made for one of the four doors on the landing.
Carol hung back. ‘I didn’t come here to tell you about Niall. I’ve only just heard about that. Sir, we’ve got a complicated situation here and I need you to sit down and listen to me with an open mind. Talking about it in front of your wife is probably not an option.’
He glared at her over his shoulder. ‘You want me to come into the office?’
Before she could reply, the door ahead of him opened to reveal a trim woman in a uniform Carol recognised. Caramel cashmere sweater, single strand of pearls, tailored trousers, kitten heels and immaculately waved hair. Her mother had friends who looked like this, who read the Telegraph and had thought Tony Blair a jolly nice young man at the outset of his premiership. ‘James?’ she said. ‘Is everything all right?’
Blake introduced them, the veneer of politeness kicking in automatically. Carol was aware of Moira Blake’s scrutiny and classification as her husband spoke. ‘I’m afraid DCI Jordan has something that won’t wait till tomorrow, my dear.’
Moira inclined her head slightly. ‘I imagine she’d rather talk to you alone, James.’ She stepped to one side and waved Carol into the apartment. ‘If you’ll give me a moment to get my coat, I’ll take myself off for an exploration of the neighbourhood. I’m sure there are many little gems my husband hasn’t discovered yet.’ She disappeared behind a Japanese screen that separated the sleeping area from the main living space, leaving Blake and Carol to exchange awkward, hangdog looks. Moira returned with the inevitable camel coat over her arm and kissed her husband on the cheek. ‘Call me when you’re free,’ she said.
Carol noticed Blake’s eyes followed Moira from the room with a look of fond appraisal that made her like him more. When the door closed behind her he gave a brittle cough and led the way over to a pair of sofas at right angles to each other. The coffee table between them was swamped with the Sunday papers. ‘We don’t often get a Sunday without the girls,’ he said, vaguely waving at the sea of newsprint. ‘Their grand-mother’s holding the fort this weekend.’
‘You can never call your time your own in this job. But I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t vitally important.’
Blake nodded. ‘Fire away, then.’
‘Dr Hill came to see us today,’ Carol began.
‘I thought I’d made myself clear on that subject?’ Blake interrupted her, his cheeks growing even pinker than usual.
‘Abundantly. But I didn’t ask him to come in. I’ve deliberately told him nothing about our cases that he couldn’t have read in the papers. He came in because he believes the two murders - three now - that we’re working on have been committed by the same killer he’s been profiling in another jurisdiction.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, that’s pitiful. Is he so desperate for work that he has to thrust himself upon us with flimsy excuses like that? What’s his problem? Is he jealous of young DS Parker?’
Carol waited till he’d subsided, then said, ‘Sir, I’ve known Tony Hill for a long time and I’ve worked closely with him on several key cases. He just doesn’t have that kind of ego. I admit I was sceptical about his analysis at first. But there’s substance to what he has to say.’ She worked her way through the list Tony had laid out for her, thanking her eidetic memory for the power to repeat them verbatim. ‘I know it sounds far-fetched, but there are too many elements in common for coincidence to be an acceptable explanation.’
Blake had looked increasingly gobsmacked as Carol’s recital had unfolded. ‘You’re sure he had no access to your team’s information?’
‘I believe him,’ she said. ‘He’s a lot more interested in closing down a killer than he is in his own self-image.’
‘What does Parker think of all this?’
Carol tried not to scream. ‘I’ve no idea. I haven’t discussed it with him.’
‘You don’t think he’s the person you should have consulted before you came to me? He is the profiler assigned to this case.’ Carol blinked hard. ‘He’s an idiot. His so-called profile is a joke. Any one of my team could have come up with something more useful than his first attempt. And the second version was only marginally better. I know you set great store by the training they’re doing at the faculty, but DS Parker is not going to make any converts. His work is callow and superficial. ‘ She shrugged. ‘There’s no other word for it. I can’t work with him. I’d rather do without a profiler than have one with so little insight.’ Carol stopped for breath. She could almost smell her boats burning. Blake looked thunderous.
‘You’re crossing a line here, Chief Inspector.’