Sean looked toward Sally.
Sally, I want you to pick four guys and start on door-to-door immediately. That time of night, beaten to death, someone must have heard or seen something. The rest of you, hang fire. The lab team is looking at the victims personal stuff, so well have a long list of people to trace and chat with soon enough. I dont expect it to be long before we have a decent idea who our prime suspect is.
Dave. You go office manager on this one. Donnelly nodded acknowledgment. The rest of you check with Dave at least three times a day for your assignments. And remember, Sean added, the first few hours are the most important, so lets eat on the hoof and worry about sleep when the killers banged up downstairs.
There were nods of approval as the group began to break up. Sean could sense their optimism, their trust in his leadership, his judgment. He hadnt failed them yet.
He prayed this case would be no different.
It was almost 1 P.M. and Sean had spent the morning on the phone. Hed told the same story a dozen times. To his superintendent, the Intelligence Unit, the gay and lesbian liaison officer, the local uniformed duty officer, the community safety inspector. He was sick of telling. Sally and Donnelly had returned for their meeting and sat in his office. Sally had brought coffee and sandwiches, which Sean ate without tasting. It was the first thing he had eaten since the phone call from Donnelly early that morning, so he was happy just to get something into his stomach.
Between bites they talked, all of them aware they hadnt a moment to waste on a proper lunch. The first days of a murder inquiry were always the same-so much to get through and so little time. Forensic evidence degraded, witnesses memories faded, CCTV tapes would be recorded over. Time was Seans enemy now.
Anything from the door-to-door, Sally? he asked. Give me good news only.
Nothing, she replied. Ive still got guys down there knocking on doors, but so far all were being told is that Graydon kept himself to himself. No noisy parties. No fights. No problems. No nothing. Everybody says he was a nice kid. As for last night, nobody saw or heard a thing. Another quiet night in South London.
That cant be right, Sean argued. A man gets beaten to death within a few feet of what, four other flats, and no one heard it?
Thats what were being told.
Sean sighed and turned toward Donnelly. Dave?
Aye. Weve managed to make copies of his diary, address book, and what have you. Ive got a couple of the lads going through that now. Expect to be informed about next of kin pretty soon. No boyfriend yet, though. No one name coming up over and over. Ill be sending the troops out to trace friends and associates as and when we have their details. Oh, and the coroners officer has been on the blower. The bodys been moved from the scene and taken to Guys Hospital. Postmortems at four P.M. today.
Seans mind flashed with the images of previous postmortems hed attended as he pushed what was left of his sandwich to one side.
Whos doing it?
Youve got your wish there, boss. Its Dr. Canning. Anything more from the forensics team at the scene?
Not yet. Roddis doesnt reckon theyll be finished until about this time tomorrow, then as usual everything gets sent to the lab and we wait.
A young detective from Seans team appeared at the door holding a small piece of paper pinched between his fingers. I think Ive found an address for the parents. The three detectives continued to look at him.
Ill take that, thanks, Sally told him. The young detective handed her the note and backed away from the door.
Sean knew his responsibilities. Ill come too. Shit, this is gonna be fun. Dave, Ill see you back here at about three thirty. You can take me to the postmortem.
Ill be here, Donnelly assured him.
Sean tugged his jacket on and headed for the door, Sally in pursuit. And remember, he told Donnelly, if anyone asks, this is a straightforward domestic murder. No need to get anyone excited.
Having doubts? Donnelly managed to ask before Sean was gone.
No, Sean answered, not entirely truthfully. For a second he was back in the flat, back at the scene of the slaughter, watching the killer moving around Graydons prostrate form, but he saw no panic or fury in his actions, no jealousy or rage, only a coldness-a sense of satisfaction.
Donnellys voice snapped him back. You all right, guvnor?
Sorry, yes Im fine. Just find me the boyfriend-whoever he is. Find him and youve found our prime suspect.
Ill do my best.
I know you will, Sean told him as he watched him stride back into the main office.
CHAPTER 2
I thoroughly enjoyed the time I spent with the little queer. I made it look like a domestic murder. Ive heard fights between people like him can get nasty, so I had a bit of fun with the idea.
He was easy enough to dispatch. These people live dangerous lives. They make perfect victims. So I hunted among them, looking for someone, and I found him.
I had already decided to spend the evening stalking the patrons of a Vauxhall nightclub, Utopia. What a ridiculous name. More like Hell, if you ask me. I told my wife I was going out of town on business, packed some spare clothes, toiletries, the usual things for a night away, and booked a hotel room in Victoria. I could hardly turn up at home in the early hours. That would arouse suspicions. I couldnt have that. Everything at home needed to appear. . normal.
I also packed a paper painters suit that I bought at Homebase, several pairs of surgical gloves-readily available from all sorts of shops-a shower cap, and some plastic bags to cover my feet. A little noisy, but effective. And last but not least a syringe. All fitted neatly into a small knapsack.
Avoiding the CCTV cameras that swamped the area, I watched the entrance to the club from the shadows of the railway bridge as the sound of the trains reverberated through the archways.
I had already spied my target entering the club earlier that evening. The excitement made my testicles tighten. Yes, he was truly worthy of my special attentions. This wasnt the first time I had seen him. I had watched him a couple of weeks earlier, watched him whore himself inside the club to whoever could match his price. I had been searching for the perfect victim, knowing the police would only check CCTV from the night he died or, if they were especially diligent, maybe the week before.
I had stood in the midst of the heaving throng of stinking, foul humanity, bodies brushing past my own, tainting my being with their diseased imperfection, while at the same time inflaming my already excited, heightened senses. I so wanted to reach out and take each and every one of them by the throat, crushing trachea after trachea as the dead began to pile at my feet. I fought hard to control the surging strength within, then terror gripped me, terror like I have never felt in my entire life. Terror that the real me was revealing itself, that all those around me could see me changing in front of their very eyes, my skin glowing a brilliant red, bright white light spilling from my eyes and ears, vomiting from my mouth. Heavy drops of sweat had snaked down my back, guided by my swelling, cramping back muscles. Somehow I had managed to move my legs, pushing through a crowd of squabbling worshippers until I reached the bar and stared into the giant mirror hanging behind it. Relief washed over me, slowing my heart and cooling my sweat as I could see I hadnt changed, hadnt betrayed myself.
Now the time for watching was over. It was time for my prize, my release, my relief. All was in place. All was as it needed to be. At last I saw him leaving the club. He was shouting good-byes, but seemed to be alone. He walked casually under the railway bridge, heading toward Vauxhall Bridge. I moved quickly and silently to the other side of the railway bridge and waited for him. As he neared, I stepped out. He saw me, but didnt look scared. He returned my smile as I spoke to him.
Excuse me.
Yes, he replied, still smiling, stepping closer to the streetlight to better see me. Is there something I can do for. . you, he said, recognition spreading across his face. We really must stop meeting like this. Yes, Id been with him before. A risk, but a calculated one. A little more than a week ago, inside the nightclub, Id introduced myself without speaking, making sure he saw my smiling face just long enough so hed recognize it again. Later I met him outside. I paid him what he asked, all in advance, and we went back to his flat where I defiled myself inside him and even allowed him to defile the inside of me. The sex wasnt important, or even pleasurable-that wasnt the point of being with him. I wanted to feel him while he was alive, to understand he wasnt merely an inanimate thing, but a real live person. I couldnt be with him like that the night I dispatched him in case I left the faintest trace of semen or saliva on his body. Being with him a week or so before would give any such evidence time to degrade and die. And of course we practiced safe sex: he to protect himself from the Gay Plague and I to protect myself from detection. Id shaved away my pubic hair so none could be left at the scene and wore a full-faced rubber mask that also covered my head, stopping any head hairs from being left either, as well as rubber gloves to eliminate the risk of leaving fingerprints-all of which the little queer thought was simply part of the fun. But the fun, the real fun, was yet to come, and I had more than a week to fantasize about the events that lay ahead.
The days had passed painfully slowly, testing my patience and control to the limit, but the memories of the night I had been with him and the thought of things to come carried me through, and before I knew it he was standing in front of me, his small, straight white teeth glistening in the streetlights, his oval-shaped head too large for his scrawny neck, perched on slim, narrow shoulders. His hair was blond and straight, shoulder-length, styled to make him look like a surfer, but his skin was pale and his body weak. The most athletic thing he had ever done was drop to his knees. His T-shirt was too tight and short, revealing his flat stomach, disappearing into hipster designer jeans worn to provoke the sexual urges of his peers.
I told him I needed to be with him again. I lied that I had been inside the club and had seen him dancing, that I had been too nervous to approach him then, but now I really wanted him. We talked some more crap then he said, You know Im not cheap. If you want to be with me again itll cost.