Daisy in Chains(59)

‘Buy one. Most basic model available. With cash, or a fake credit card.’

‘And where do you put it?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘Yes, it does. You need it to be somewhere it can’t be found, in case everything goes pear-shaped. Its location, like the computer itself, can’t be traced to you.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘At the same time you buy the computer, you hire a space to put it in. Renting a house or a flat would be too expensive. A room in a house wouldn’t work, because the other people who live there would notice. Not a room in a cheap hotel either, because hotel staff spend a lot of time bored and they like to customer-watch. I think our man rented an office.’

‘An office?’

‘A small, basic office in a large, out-of-town industrial complex would be cheap and almost completely anonymous.’

‘Seems a bit overkill, but I’ll go with it. So you think that somewhere in this circle is the space our killer rented solely for the purpose of cyber-stalking victims. Maggie, do you have any idea how many—’

‘Twenty-five industrial estates of a sufficiently large size to make them likely. You and your team could check them in a couple of days.’

‘I can’t put police resources into this,’ he says, knowing that, actually, there is a good chance Latimer will agree.

‘Didn’t think so. Just you and me, then?’

He almost laughs. ‘No. Just you. That computer is slowly rusting under ten fathoms of seawater and I am not wasting any of my—’

‘Another beer?’

His glass is empty. He hasn’t realized quite how quickly he is drinking. ‘Thanks, and that’s my limit, or I’ll be phoning for a cab. You’re reaching, Maggie. Even if Wolfe didn’t tip it over the back of a fishing boat, this is a wild guess. It could be in a hay-barn, his granny’s attic, the equipment store at his old surgery . . .’

‘It’s nowhere that can be traced to him. And it’s nowhere it can be found by accident. The killer, who is not Hamish, paid for a safe environment and protection. He took the lease out sometime early in 2013, round about the time he first made contact with Jessie, Chloe and Myrtle. All we have to do is contact the letting agents for these estates and ask about modest, single units that have been occupied since 2013. It will be easier for you. I’ll have to use a bit of subterfuge, but it won’t be the first time.’

‘Before I waste another second thinking about this, please convince me this computer is not slowly making its way out into the Atlantic Ocean?’

‘If Hamish is the cyber-stalker, he didn’t have a chance. You’d picked him up for questioning before he knew you were on to him. He was charged almost immediately and not granted bail. He could not have hidden or destroyed the computer.’

Annoyingly, that does make sense.

‘And if it wasn’t Hamish, the real killer will have destroyed it by now.’

‘Unless he’s planning to resume business.’

Pete laughs. ‘It’s two years since Myrtle was killed.’

‘He’s biding his time. He knows if he acts too quickly, the game’s up. He also knows he might have to change his methods a bit. Find somewhere else to leave the bodies, maybe.’

‘This is fantasy-land. Hamish Wolfe is our killer and that stew smells fantastic.’

She gets up and pulls on oven gloves. ‘Would you fold the map up? Carefully, we’ll be needing it.’

As she bends to the oven, he puts the map away.

‘So are you here for Christmas?’ he says. ‘Got family coming?’

She smiles as though she knows he’s fishing. ‘I don’t have a family. And Christmas is when I get most of my work done. I’ll probably have Hamish’s case cracked by the new year.’

She puts a casserole dish on top of the Aga and takes plates from a second oven. ‘There’s a list on the dresser behind you,’ she tells him.

He turns around. The list is typewritten. Industrial estates. Beside each name are the contact details of a letting agent.

‘Not sure what you want me to do with this.’ He puts it back on the dresser.

‘You know exactly what I want you to do with it. Phone the letting agents. Ask the questions. Produce a second list of possibilities and consult with me.’

‘Since when did I become your unpaid gofer?’

She says, ‘Are we just haggling about money now?’

‘No. No money. No dogsbodying. I’m not doing it.’ Even as he speaks he reflects that, come mid morning tomorrow, after he’s filled Latimer in, he could easily be doing it.

‘No big deal. I’ll get through them all myself. Shall I let you know when I’m ready to start viewing? We’re probably talking after Christmas now, of course.’

The new idea makes him smile. ‘That’s why you need me onside with this. Anything you find won’t be admissible. You need me to carry out an official search.’

The house phone starts ringing. At first Maggie looks up, startled, telling him she doesn’t normally receive phone calls at this hour. Before she can pick up, the answerphone kicks in. They both recognize the voice instantly. Deep, educated but bruised, somehow, and with a faint hint of the West Country.