River of Darkness

While such a course has seldom brought benefits in the past — and is strongly opposed by experienced detectives — nevertheless voices are being raised in support of it by some of those most closely connected to the inquiry, which is being conducted by Chief Inspector Angus Sinclair.

'Sampson's chosen his moment,' Sinclair conceded.

'Bennett's seeing the assistant commissioner this afternoon.

Parkhurst will want to know what's being done to advance the investigation. You can see the chief super's game. He thinks he's got us stymied. He's waiting for the cry to go up: "Send for Sampson of the Yard!"'

'He's not afraid of it any more?' Madden was surprised. 'He thinks he can crack it?'

'Why not?' Sinclair shrugged. 'Even with the rough description we have — that plus the motorcycle — we've got enough to identify him. Given a little luck.'

'And time,' Madden pointed out.

'Aye… time.' The chief inspector looked sombre.

'But what if Sampson's right? What if this man's no more than a thief who lost his head? We could be on the wrong track. We're still guessing. We don't know anything.'

'How would you explain Bentham, then?'

'We don't know that was him. We can only be sure about Highfield, and perhaps it's as Sampson says. He tossed everything into the dugout in a panic after the killings and only thought later about coming back to collect it.'

It was the first time Madden had seen his superior look discouraged. I don't agree,' he said. 'It's something else. We both felt it at Melling Lodge. He didn't go there to rob and steal, any more than he did at the Reynolds's farm. I still think it's the women.'

'But why} What does he want with them?'

Madden had no answer. But he did have an idea in mind.

Later, that same day, the inspector took a rare, extended lunch-hour. Helen Blackwell had come up to London.

'I'm supposed to be shopping. We need new curtains for the drawing-room, but somehow I don't think I'll find the right material today.' She laughed and kissed him on the cheek. They had met at a restaurant off Piccadilly. There wasn't a table free immediately and they were sitting on a banquette in the crowded waiting area. On either side of them young women with bobbed hair and brightly painted faces chattered in high-pitched voices. Blood red nails tipped ash from the ends of cigarettes mounted in long holders. Somewhere out of sight a pianist was playing ragtime. It was a new world to Madden.

'Don't scowl. It makes you look like a policeman.'

He laughed, and she slipped her arm through his.

'I have to be back in Guildford by four. They're short-staffed at the hospital and I'm helping out. I wish we weren't both so busy.'

She was wearing a dress of pleated cotton and a straw hat trimmed with cherries. Madden leaned closer to drink in the scent of jasmine. She examined his face with her clear gaze. 'You're not getting enough sleep.

I'll write you a prescription before I go.'

'There's something I want to talk to you about,' he said. 'I've got a favour to ask.'

'What is it?'

'Later.' He didn't want to spoil the moment. He was happy just to be with her, to sit beside her and feel the pressure of her arm linked with his. Without meaning to, he spoke: 'Christ, I miss you.'

She continued looking at him, holding his eyes in her steady glance. Then, not caring that they were in a public place, she leaned over and kissed him on the lips.

Madden felt his face grow warm. 'Let's forget this,' he urged. 'Come back to my place.'

She stood up at once, drawing him with her. 'I was hoping you'd say that.' She was laughing. 'I was going to suggest it myself, but I'm afraid you already think I'm too bold.'

He took her back to his rooms and they made love in the hot afternoon with the curtains drawn across the open window and the sounds of children at play drifting in from the street outside. Afterwards, she lay in his arms, her body warm and damp. She kissed him with open lips, tasting his salty skin.

'Don't let me fall asleep,' she begged. He held her close and felt her heart beating against his.

The seed of our happiness.

The words came into his mind and he recalled where he had heard them. He was reminded, too, that he had a favour to ask of her.

When Madden returned to the Yard he found Sinclair sitting behind his desk, puffing at his pipe in a thoughtful manner.

'Sorry I'm late, sir.'

'That's all right, John. There's damn-all happening anyway.' The chief inspector watched a wreath of blue smoke curling upwards from the bowl of his briar.

'I've just been in to see Bennett. He's had his meeting with Parkhurst. The word from on high is "steady as she goes".'

'What does that mean?'

'It means this inquiry stays within the Yard. Parkhurst made that plain. He doesn't want a carnival his word. No outside experts to be called in. Sampson's got them running scared. We'll have to think of something else.'

7

The hotel was in a side street off Russell Square.

Dr Weiss was waiting at a corner table in the almost deserted lounge. The dusty leaves of a rubber plant brushed his shoulders as he rose to greet Madden.

'Inspector, this is a pleasure.'

'It's good of you to see me, Dr Weiss.'

'I am happy to meet any friend of Helen's.'

A gold watch-chain gleamed against the sober black of the doctor's waistcoat. Behind a welcoming smile he cast a curious glance at his visitor. At their last meeting he had noted Madden's dark, shadowed eyes and air of deep-rooted fatigue. He thought that any man who captured Helen Blackwell's interest was fortunate indeed, and he wondered about their relationship.

They sat down at the table. The doctor waited while Madden signalled to a waiter and ordered drinks for them.

'All the same, I was surprised by her call. You wish to discuss the Melling Lodge murders with me?

Inspector, I am not a criminologist.'

'I realize that. But this is not an official visit. In fact, I'd be grateful if you wouldn't mention our meeting to anyone.'

'So!' Dr Weiss's brown eyes sparkled. 'But I still don't see how I can be of help.'

Madden hesitated. He was treading on unfamiliar ground. 'There was something you said in your lecture the other night. It's been on my mind ever since. You were speaking of sexual perversions and you said even the most terrible actions could be idealized by the human mind.'

'That is so.' Weiss frowned. 'But I am still at a loss.

From what I have read of the murders at Highfield, no sexual motive was involved.'

'No evident sexual motive.'

'I see… but you think otherwise?' His curiosity had sharpened.

'The truth is, we don't know what to think. We know the murders were committed by one man. We have a rough physical description of him and we know the make of his motorcycle. But beyond that we're in the dark. We have no idea who we're looking for.'

The doctor's greying eyebrows had already lifted in astonishment. 'And you think I can tell you that?'

'You could give us an indication.'

'Based on the evidence?'

'It would be a guide, surely.'

'A guide, yes. But to what destination?' Weiss shook his head ruefully. 'Inspector, you don't know what you're asking. The margin for error in such a procedure would be huge. Psychology is not an exact science.'

'I understand that.'

'I could very well point you in the wrong direction.'

'That's a risk I'll have to take,' Madden persisted.

The older man regarded him in silence for several seconds. A faint smile played about his lips. Finally he shrugged. 'Very well then, if you insist.' He resettled himself in his chair. 'Tell me about this man. As much detail as possible, please. The key lies in the details.'