The Sad Man by P.D. Viner Read Free Book Online Page A

who settled here?
    ‘Oh, Christ. Too many questions.’
    ‘You should get some sleep.’
    ‘I’ll sleep when …’ He closes his eyes and lays his head down on his desk. In seconds he is gone.
    Drool, like a string of pearls lace his lips together and hang down. A mug strikes the desk right by his head, which flicks up and the drool snaps.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Coffee, Guv.’ Patterson walks away, smiling.
    Tom looks at his watch. It’s 6.35 a.m. He hadn’t meant to sleep, damn. He looks down at his desk …
    ‘Oh crap.’ He’s drooled on the Interpol files – right across one of the pictures of the murdered women and onto the yellow Post-it-note with his questions on it. His writing is smeared. He picks up the file to wipe it down… ‘Damnit Tom.’ He drops it. A small handwritten piece of paper falls out. It is the original contents list of the room the final victim was found in. Tom picks it up and… something strikes him. The list contains: 1bottle silicone adhesive, 1 bottle latex/silicone lubricant. He remembers something, and a jigsaw piece heaves into view.
    ‘Gap year?’ Drake spits it out like it’s poison. It didn’t sound ludicrous when it popped into Tom’s head. ‘Our killer was on a gap year in 1980 and killed three women?’
    Tom winces slightly at the vehemence in his voice. Now, as Drake says it, it does sound—
    ‘Clutching at fucking straws, Bevans. Jesus. You are out of your depth and you’re fucking around.’
    ‘Sir—’
    ‘You’ll get a sodding psychic in next, Russell fucking Grant. Fuck, Bevans.’
    ‘Hear me out.’
    ‘No. Let me see you out – I am withdrawing your status as acting DI. We are going to alert Interpol that we believe a European killer has been in the UK but has now returned to Belgium, or Holland – either works. Then we’ll issue a statement to the press—’
    ‘Immigrant serial killers?’
    ‘That kind of thing. The Daily Mail will eat it up. We’ll say we are pretty sure he’s returned to Europe, but let’s keep vigilant.’
    ‘That is cynical—’
    ‘Zip it, Bevans. What the hell did I say to you when this started? Solve it or shelve it. Do you know what unsolved murders can do to coppers – to whole units? They are millstones around the neck of a department, they pull you down and make it so you can’t think – can’t go forward. Every day, every single fucking day there are new victims, new people needing our help. Dead babies, traumatised women and old people robbed and fucked. Every day a new load of victims that need us to be fresh and full of energy. Every day, Bevans. I know you know the stats, you’re not a half-wit. If a case is going to be solved it will usually be within seventy-two hours. But do you know why?’
    Tom is silent.
    ‘You think it’s probably about evidence being lost after a few days, or witnesses’ memories degrading, the criminals flying overseas – but that isn’t it. If there is hard evidence to nail the fucker they will get nailed. The team will go through everything with a fine-toothed comb. But if it’s all messy and screwed up then after three days the case gets scaled down and the investigation team move on to the next disaster, the next death and hope that will be quick and easy.’
    ‘But not everything is quick and easy.’
    ‘No, no it isn’t.’ The flash of anger dies away in Chief Superintendent Drake’s eyes. For a second he looks human. ‘Your girl, Danielle, the murderer was never found.’
    Tom shakes his head in reply.
    ‘I appreciate the way you work, the way you think, I just don’t have room for it here. A detective inspector should be like a shark – he needs to constantly move forward, needs to be ruthless. Needs—’
    ‘Drop the case off the rota. Allocate all the resources back out, move on. I see you need to do that. Just leave me on it, just me alone. One man. Please, for a few days?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Sir.’ Tom can’t believe it. ‘The force has invested twelve