It was the first time the two men had been alone. Apart from a brief appearance at tea-time, when he had joined the others on the terrace, the doctor had remained in his room all afternoon, working. Apologizing for his absence, he’d explained that he had a paper to prepare which he was due to present at a symposium on his return to Berlin.
‘The subject to be discussed will be certain aspects of psychopathology, in particular the treatment of patients who indulge in abnormally aggressive and irresponsible behaviour, a difficult question on which to air one’s views these days when so many of one’s fellow citizens display little else.’
He’d accompanied the remark with a characteristic wry smile, but his words had struck a chord with the chief inspector, echoing as they did a discussion that had taken place earlier, at lunch, when Weiss had spoken at some length about the situation in Germany and his fears for the future. Though aware from newspaper accounts of the turmoil prevailing in that country, so recently an enemy of his own, Sinclair had listened with dismay as the Maddens’ foreign visitor drew a picture, blacker than he could have imagined, of a society racked by civil strife and teetering on the brink of political collapse.
Most disturbing of all had been an account given by the doctor of an assault by brown-shirted storm troopers on a group of communist sympathizers which he had witnessed by chance near his consulting rooms in Berlin. Evidently distressed by the memory, he’d described in vivid images the brazen behaviour of the attackers and their indifference to the bodies of the injured which they’d left lying in the street, their blood drying on the cobblestones.
‘When civilized man turns so readily to savagery, one can only fear the worst.’ Weiss had fixed his dark eyes on Sinclair as he’d uttered these words, seeing him perhaps as one of the law’s guardians. ‘What restraints are there left, one wonders? Of what crimes is he capable?’
The analyst had made no secret of his anxiety for his family and his desire, ever more pressing, to quit Germany.
‘All the signs are that my people are no longer welcome there. At any rate, not with those whose voices are loudest and whose hands are already reaching for power.’
Perceiving that it was not his Austrian nationality Weiss was referring to, Sinclair had felt a flush of discomfiture, and the memory of it served to check his first impulse now, which was to return to the theme of their lunchtime conversation. He wanted to question the analyst further. But having poured him a drink and seen to it that he was settled comfortably by the fire before resuming his own seat, he hesitated, and it was Weiss, his pale face made bright by the blaze, who broke the silence between them.
‘Tell me, Chief Inspector, this case you are dealing with, the one to do with the murdered girl, is it causing you much anxiety?’
Though momentarily startled by the question, Sinclair realized at once that Madden must have discussed the assault with the doctor, something Weiss himself confirmed the next moment.
‘I ask because John seemed so concerned when he told me about it the other evening. Clearly it has disturbed him a great deal. We did not discuss it at length. Helen was there, and I sensed she was upset by the subject.’
‘She thinks he’s too caught up with the case,’ Sinclair grunted. He’d got over his surprise. ‘She’s never forgotten how close he came to death all those years ago. She doesn’t want him involved in anything like it again. But John won’t let go of this.’
Weiss nodded. ‘He sees it as his duty, what he owes to others, something presented to him, which he did not seek, but accepts. Our friend is like the Good Samaritan: he cannot pass by on the other side. It is one of the reasons Helen loves him, of course, why she prizes him so. This makes it difficult for them both.’
The shadows in the room had been deepening while they were talking and Sinclair rose to switch on a pair of table lamps. He added another log to the fire and then watched as a shower of sparks flew up the chimney. Behind him the doctor, too, was gazing into the flames, his eyes clouded with thought. Sinclair returned to his seat.
‘What did you make of it, sir? The crime itself, I mean? As you probably know, John thinks this man has killed before.’
‘So he said. And I can understand why. One must be cautious when drawing conclusions from evidence that is purely circumstantial, but there are strong indications that this was no ordinary predator,’ Weiss said.
‘You’re referring to the post-mortem assault, I assume?’ Sinclair sat forward in his chair, curious now. Weiss nodded.
‘The battering of the girl’s face was most unusual. Although abuse of the victim’s corpse is a common feature in cases of this kind – most often it reflects the killer’s contempt for the body that has served its purpose – so deliberate an assault has the appearance of a ritual. One should not overlook the care which this murderer took with his preparations, either. Am I right in thinking he carried the child’s body some way to the spot he had chosen for the assault?’
‘Yes. Through quite dense undergrowth.’
‘To where there was a stream. An important detail. Perhaps he already had a picture in his mind of what was to follow. Perhaps he knew he would have to wash the blood from his body afterwards. If we see all this as part of a pattern, then it is hard to believe this man has not committed similar crimes in the past.’
The doctor broke off. He’d shifted his gaze from the fire and was looking at Sinclair, who sat pondering.
‘There’s something you don’t know, sir.’ The chief inspector frowned. ‘I only told John about it this morning. We’ve come across a case that might have a bearing on the Brookham murder. It involves a young girl who went missing three years ago in Henley-on-Thames and was presumed drowned. Recently her body was recovered from the river and it was found that her face had been damaged. In the opinion of the pathologist who examined the remains, the injuries were caused by blows. It’s too late to tell whether she was raped, of course, or even how she died, but the facial wounds point to a violent assault of some kind.’
‘And you think these two cases might be linked?’ Weiss’s expression showed interest.
‘It’s a possibility, certainly, and the only lead we’ve got. But since there’s no other indication a killer of this kind has been active in the past, no trace of him in our files, the odds are against there being a connection. I haven’t told you, but the Brookham investigation isn’t mine as yet, not officially, it’s still in the hands of the Surrey police. However, I expect it to arrive on my desk before long, and when it does I’m going to have to decide how to proceed with the inquiry.’
Sinclair paused. His eyes met the analyst’s.
‘What is it, Chief Inspector?’ Weiss set his glass down. ‘Is there something you wish to ask me?’
‘It’s more of a favour I’m seeking, sir.’ Sinclair grimaced. ‘You may find it an odd request, but I’m looking for advice of a particular kind which only someone in your profession could offer.’
‘And what might that be, I wonder?’ Weiss smiled. ‘I’m curious to learn.’
The chief inspector hesitated. He cocked an eye at his companion.
‘Let’s assume John’s right – this is a man who has killed before, who may even have been active for some time without our being aware of it. Let’s go even further and say the Henley girl was one of his victims. Now, as a rule, sexual offenders tend to draw attention to themselves. They become solitaries. Pariahs. Men who stick out like sore thumbs in the community. Even when we can’t charge them, we generally know who they are. So what I want to ask you is this – how likely is it that such a man could have slipped the net? Have managed to disguise his true nature and somehow escaped notice? Is it even possible?’
Sinclair waited for Weiss to reply. The analyst had been gazing into the fire as he listened and it was some time before he responded.