The Book of Souls (Inspector McLean #2)(88)
McLean had given up rising to Hilton’s bait. If these sessions were one more thing he had to endure to get the job done, then he’d just have to suffer them with as good grace as he could manage.
‘I think I’m here because my commanding officer thought I needed stress counselling. Who knows, she might have been right. But we’ve had what, six sessions? You decided after the first that I was fit for work. So why do you insist I keep on coming back? You’re not on an hourly rate, are you?’
Hilton feigned a look of indignant shock, then smiled. ‘Lothian and Borders pay me a retainer. How they make use of my time is up to them. But you’re right, Tony. You are fit for work. And you’re also under a kind of stress that few people will ever have to cope with. The best way to deal with that is to share it. I guess I keep making you come back because I hope you’ll start to share.’
McLean shifted on his seat, trying to ease the numbness that was spreading through his buttocks. ‘OK then, so you want me to share with you. Fine. How about we discuss your profile of this new killer.’
‘That’s—’ Hilton started to object, then obviously thought the better of it. ‘OK. What about it?’
‘Well, you focus on the background. We know we’re looking for a loner, someone who’s been smothered by an overbearing parent, had a traumatic experience in childhood, possibly abused, yadda yadda. You already know I don’t think much about that kind of generalisation.’
Hilton nodded, but said nothing.
‘What I’m more interested in is why. Why is this man obsessed with Anderson, why has he decided to copy him now?’
‘Well, I’d have thought the answer to the second question was fairly obvious.’
‘Anderson’s death?’
‘Exactly. You have to understand the nature of obsession, Tony. Our killer doesn’t just worship Anderson, he wants to be him. But he can’t make that final leap whilst the object of his obsession is still alive. Anderson’s death gave him the permission to start killing, but I suspect he’s been preparing for it for many years.’
‘Which just leaves the first question. Why Anderson? OK, there’s that bloody book, but thousands of people have read that and not turned into psychopathic killers.’
‘It’s likely that our killer empathises with some key facet of Anderson’s personality. He sees in him a reflection of his own self, his own upbringing. Anderson was an orphan, right?’
‘That’s what I was told.’
‘So I’d be fairly confident our killer is an orphan too. Or abandoned by a parent he loved. Anderson never married, but we’ve nothing to suggest he was gay either. I’m guessing he had a difficult time forming close relationships. It’s quite common in those abandoned at an early age.’
‘So we’re looking for an orphan who can’t commit to close relationships.’ McLean almost chuckled. ‘We don’t know anyone who fits that description, do we.’
Hilton gave him an odd look. ‘It’s not you, though. Is it?’
‘That’s not even remotely funny, Hilton.’
‘You’re right, sorry.’
‘And anyway, I’m more interested in Anderson’s number one fan than the man himself. How do we go about finding him?’
‘Well.’ Hilton clicked his pen once, then looked at it as if he’d only just noticed he was holding it. ‘Our killer’s looking to Anderson for guidance, and we’ve already established that he waited until Anderson was dead before he abducted his first victim. As I said, Anderson’s death gave him permission to assume that persona. What if the killer already approached Anderson whilst he was still alive, though?’
‘Does anyone in Aberdeen owe you a favour?’
DS Ritchie looked up from her desk where she had been typing manically. The fruits of her afternoon’s labours were strewn all around; case-notes being whipped into something resembling order.
‘I don’t know. Depends what it’s for, I guess.’
McLean pulled out a chair from an empty desk and dropped into it. His backside was still numb from McIntyre’s chair.
‘I need to know the names of everyone who visited Anderson whilst he was in Peterhead. And everyone who wrote to him too, if that information’s available. Could go through the usual channels, but you know how long that can take.’
Ritchie frowned. ‘Shouldn’t be a problem. DCI Reid’s been in charge of the investigation into Anderson’s death. That’s the sort of stuff he’d insist on collecting even if we know damn well who did it.’
‘Well, see what you can get by the end of today. Then I want you and MacBride to go through the list and get me as much information as possible about everyone who’s on it.’
‘What about the case review, sir?’ Ritchie picked up a sheaf of A4 sheets and waffled them around, as if it wasn’t obvious what she meant. ‘Dagwood wants that on his desk by five.’
McLean looked at the clock above the door. Quarter to three already. Where had the day gone?
‘He won’t read it anyway, trust me. Just put all your notes in chronological order and bind the whole thing so it looks pretty. Sue in admin will do it for you if you promise her some chocolate. I need that list now. It’s much more important than Dagwood’s bloody filing.’