The PC looked at the floor, her skin pale and clammy. ‘I don’t think so, skip,’ she said. ‘That’s Connolly. I mean, it’s not what you’d call a good likeness, but it’s definitely him.’
The control room sergeant picked up the fax. ‘I’ll get on to DI Matthews right away,’ he said.
Sgt Bonner pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘I’d better go round to the morgue. They’re going to need a formal identification as soon as possible so they can get weaving.’
‘This makes it a whole new ball game,’ Tony said, his face sombre.
‘It certainly ups the stakes,’ Carol said.
‘The question I’m asking myself is whether or not Handy Andy knew he was giving us a bobby,’ Tony said softly, swinging round in his chair to stare out of the window at the city rooftops.
‘Sorry?’
He gave a twisted smile and said, ‘No, it’s me who should apologize. I always give them a name. It makes it personal.’ He swung back to face Carol. ‘Does that bother you?’
Carol shook her head. ‘It’s better than the station nickname.’
‘Which is?’ Tony asked, eyebrows raised.
‘The Queer Killer,’ Carol said, her distaste clear.
‘That begs a lot of questions,’ Tony said noncommittally. ‘But if it helps them deal with their fear and anger, it’s probably no bad thing.’
‘I don’t like it. It doesn’t feel personal to me, calling him the Queer Killer.’
‘What does make it personal to you? The fact that he’s taken one of yours now?’
‘I felt like that already. As soon as we got the second murder, the one I was handling, I was convinced we were dealing with a serial offender. That was when it got personal for me. I want to nail this bastard. I need to. Professionally, personally, whatever.’ The cold vehemence in Carol’s voice gave Tony confidence. This was a woman who was going to pull out all the stops to make sure he had what he needed to do his job. Her tone of voice and the words she’d chosen were also a calculated challenge, showing him she didn’t give a damn what he made of her desire. She was just what he needed. Professionally, at any rate.
‘You and me both,’ Tony said. ‘And together, we can make it happen. But only together. You know, the first time I got directly involved in profiling, it was a serial arsonist. After half a dozen major fires, I knew how he was doing it, why he was doing it, what was in it for him. I knew exactly the kind of mad bastard he was, yet I couldn’t put a name or a face to him. It drove me crazy with frustration for a while. Then I realized it wasn’t my job to do that. That’s your job. All I can do is to point you in the right direction.’
Carol smiled grimly. ‘Just point, and I’ll be off like a gun dog,’ she said. ‘What did you mean when you said you wondered whether he knew Damien Connolly was a bobby?’
Tony ran a hand through his hair, leaving it spiky as a punk’s. ‘OK. We’ve got two scenarios here. Handy Andy may not have known Damien Connolly was a bobby. It may be nothing more than a coincidence, a particularly unpleasant coincidence for his colleagues, but a coincidence nevertheless. That’s not a scenario I’m happy with, however, because my reading, based on the little I know so far, is that these aren’t random victims snatched by chance. I think he chooses his victims with care, and plans thoroughly. Would you agree with that?’
‘He doesn’t leave things to chance, that’s obvious,’ Carol said.
‘Right. The alternative is that Handy Andy knows full well that his fourth victim is a policeman. That in itself leads to two further possibilities. One: Handy Andy knew he’d killed a copper, but that fact is supremely irrelevant to the meaning of the killing for him. In other words, Damien Connolly fulfilled all the other criteria that Andy needs from his victims, and he would have died at this point whether he was a bobby or a bus driver.
‘The other scenario is the one I like best, though. The fact that Damien was a copper is a crucial part of the reason why Handy Andy chose him as his fourth victim.’
‘You mean he’s thumbing his nose at us?’ Carol asked.
Thank God she was quick. That was going to make the job so much simpler. She’d done well to get as far up the ladder as she had, given she had looks as well as brains. Either attribute without the other would have made promotion easier. ‘That’s certainly a possibility,’ Tony acknowledged. ‘But I think it’s more likely to be about vanity. I think he’d started to get pissed off with Detective Superintendent Cross’s refusal to acknowledge his existence. In his own eyes, he’s very successful at what he does. He’s the best. And he deserves recognition. And that desire for recognition has been thwarted by the police’s refusal to admit there’s only one offender behind these killings. OK, so the Sentinel Times has been speculating about a serial killer since the second victim, but that’s not the same as being given the official accolade by the police themselves. And I may have unwittingly added fuel to the fire after the third killing.’
‘You mean, the interview you did with the Sentinel Times?’
‘Yeah. My suggestion that it was possible there were two killers at work will have made him angry that he wasn’t being acknowledged as the master of his craft.’
‘Dear God,’ Carol said, torn between revulsion and fascination. ‘So he went out and stalked a police officer so we’d take him seriously?’
‘It’s a possibility. Of course, it can’t have been just any police officer. Even though making his point to the powers that be is important to Handy Andy, the prime directive is still to go for victims who fulfil his very personal criteria.’
Carol frowned. ‘So what you’re saying is that there’s something about Connolly that makes him different from most other coppers?’
‘Looks like it.’
‘Maybe it’s the sexuality thing,’ Carol mused. ‘I mean, there aren’t many gays in the force. And those that there are tend to be so deep in the closet you could mistake them for a clothes hanger.’
‘Whoa,’ Tony laughed, holding up his hands as if to fend her off. ‘No theorizing without data. We don’t know yet whether Damien was gay. What might be useful, though, is to find out what shifts Damien worked recently. Say, the last two months. That’ll give us some idea of the times he was at home, which might help the officers who’ll be questioning his neighbours. Also, we should be asking around the other officers on his relief, to check out whether he always left alone, or if he ever gave anyone a lift home. We need to find out everything there is to know about Damien Connolly both as a man and as a bobby.’
Carol pulled out her notebook and scribbled a reminder to herself. ‘Shifts,’ she muttered.
‘There’s something else this tells us about Handy Andy,’ Tony said slowly, reaching for the idea that had just swum into his consciousness.
Carol looked up, her eyes alert. ‘Go on,’ she said.
‘He’s very, very good at what he does,’ Tony said flatly. ‘Think about it. A police officer is a trained observer. Even the thickest plod is a lot more alert to what’s going on around them than the average member of the public. Now, from what you’ve told me, Damien Connolly was a bright lad. He was a collator, which means he was even more on the ball than most officers. As I understand it, a collator’s job is to act like the station’s walking encyclopaedia. It’s all very well having all the local information about known villains and MOs on file cards, but if the collator isn’t sharp, then the system’s worthless, am I right?’
‘Spot on. A good collator is worth half a dozen bodies on the ground,’ Carol said. ‘And by all accounts, Connolly was one of the best.’
Tony leaned back in his chair. ‘So if