The Sister(86)

Originally he had him pictured as an ignorant brute, now he began to suspect that the opposite might be true. His public image let his fists do the talking, while behind the scenes he was highly intelligent and resourceful. He’d have to be, because if he wasn’t, they'd have caught him years ago. Where did you go, yet stay sharp enough to come back and reclaim your crown after ten years? Prison records! That’s it; he’d been in prison. The new hunch failed to produce anything. If he’d gone abroad, he’d have to have a passport. He checked that, too. Nothing. Suddenly he had it; he’d changed his name.

When Tanner had finished checking out his latest lead and drawn yet another blank, it left him with a number of problems. If he only he had a clue where to look for him. According to Brooks, no one knew, and if he did find him he’d have to either bring him in or find a way to get some DNA to run through the national database. How?

He felt it in his waters; the guy was in there somewhere, for something, he had to be. His stomach groaned audibly, telling him it was lunchtime. After checking his watch, he reached into his top drawer and pulled out a sandwich. Taking a bite, he stared into the middle of the office wall.

He had to admit, he was stumped.





Chapter 67



Just after lunchtime, Tanner’s phone rang. Kennedy!

‘I thought we were clear about this, no details, everything to be kept under wraps. The last thing we want is for a copycat nutter to latch onto it! Don’t you think I’ve got enough to do without having to worry about whether or not we have a mole in this office?’ The thought of another 'Kennedy Inquisition’ made his heart sink. Finally, he’d gotten around to the headline. By now, of course, he was half-prepared for it.

‘I know, sir, but it didn’t come from us. I assumed you wanted to talk to me about Bletchley, sir.’

‘What about him?’

‘He’s been arrested; they’re bringing him back to the station now.’

‘Why did I have to phone you to find that out, Tanner?’

He made a face down the phone. ‘I thought you might have wanted it kept off the airwaves for now, what with the Gasman headline leak—’

‘I just want him in here, Tanner. How long before he gets here?’

‘A few minutes yet.’

Kennedy threw the newspaper back in to his out-tray, irritated by the nickname the press had given this character. He knew for sure there'd probably be a string of copycats. That was why they always kept something back, to help weed them out. At least the press hadn’t reported about the chloroform and the boiler suit yet.





Tanner knocked on the door and entering Kennedy’s office, said, ‘Sir, we’ve just got him booked in downstairs. I imagine you’ll want him to sweat a bit before we interview him?’ Then he pointed to the headline. ‘It’s weird, calling him the Gasman; it makes him sound like someone who’s coming to take your meter reading.’

The DCI gave him a withering glare. ‘I assume Bletchley didn’t say anything?’

‘He’s been cautioned, but he said straight away; he didn’t do anything. He hasn’t stopped talking, sir. We’re just waiting for the search warrant – then we’ll see what he has to say.’

‘Assuming we find something. What have we got from Scenes of Crime so far?’

‘Forensically, we have nothing, sir,’ he said, swallowing the gum he was chewing.

‘Well do we have anything?’ Kennedy remarked sarcastically.

Tanner looked confused.

‘It doesn’t matter. Is there a new book out called How to Commit the Perfect Crime or something?’ he said with a weary sigh.

‘They didn’t find a single thing, not even a pubic hair. He used a condom and he either flushed it down the toilet, or took it with him. He was dressed in a World War Two gas mask—’

‘World War Two!’ Kennedy exclaimed. ‘The victim recognized that?’

‘She identified it from this picture. It might be significant,’ he said as he shoved it over the desk.

The DCI was still shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Is there anything new from the victim?’

‘No, sir, WPC Palmer visited her at home this morning. Miss Stone was unable to describe her assailant in any more detail than yesterday. She did say she thought he was dressed in a white, all-in-one boiler suit. He had the hood up over his head. She described the material, as like one of those reinforced white envelopes they use to deliver important papers. As I said before, he had a gasmask on so she never saw his face. She remembered struggling to breathe, he gassed her with an unknown substance, which we think was probably chloroform, and she certainly thinks it was. The next thing she knows, she can’t move, but she’s sort of aware of what is happening. He never removed any of his clothing; he kept the full kit on. She was only wearing a nightie.’

‘Nice, was it a pink one?’ Kennedy’s sarcasm caught him unawares as he summarised. ‘So we have a gas-masked, boiler-suited fetishist in custody right now, or do we? Make my day; tell me he was arrested with the mask, the suit and a bottle of chloroform.’

Tanner hated it when Kennedy was in one of these moods. ‘Unfortunately, sir, he wasn’t. We did find an empty Kilner Dual Purpose jar with a cotton pad inside it discarded in her house, though. We’re reasonably sure from the faint odour that he used it in the attack. She said it didn’t belong to her. I can’t think of a reason he should have left it behind, unless he didn’t want to run the risk of being stopped with it.’ He inhaled deeply. ‘Before I go on, I spoke to the hospital and they put me in touch with a retired anaesthetist. When I spoke to him, he told me it’s not used for human anaesthesia in the UK any longer. He also said it would have been hit and miss even for someone like him to administer back in his day, so we might be looking for a lab technician with experience of its use in animal experiments or someone else like our suspect, who has some clear knowledge of what it is and how to use it. Either way, it’s apparently very volatile and takes a lot of experience to get exactly the right dose.’