they better not find out.’
‘Indeed,’ Donnelly agreed as he stood up. ‘But there’s one thing that still doesn’t make sense to me.’
‘Go on.’
‘Why would Hellier kill Graydon if he knew we could connect them? Why would he pull us on top of him like that? Is he trying to play games with us? Is he one of those sick fuckers who wants to get caught?’
‘No,’ Sean answered. ‘Hellier absolutely doesn’t want to get caught. Trust me. There is nothing self-destructive about Hellier.’
‘Then why?’
‘For one of two reasons. Because he wanted to or because he had to.’
‘Well?’ Donnelly asked, his hands held apart. ‘Which one is it?’
‘I don’t know,’ Sean confessed. ‘I just don’t know. I keep going over it and over it, but every time I think I’m close to understanding why, it all melts away. There’s something not quite right, something I’m missing. Christ it’s so close I could fucking touch it, but I can’t see it yet.’
‘We’ll find out why soon enough,’ said Donnelly.
‘To be honest, with Hellier I’m not so sure.’ The doubt was unusual for Sean. ‘That’s why we go after his past. Identify his earlier offences. That’s where he’s vulnerable. I’m certain of it.’
‘If indeed he has offended before.’
‘He has,’ Sean insisted. ‘There’s no doubt. All I need to know is who, where and when. And why the hell his prints aren’t on file.’
‘I don’t know, boss,’ Donnelly admitted. ‘This all feels like a bit of a stretch for me. Maybe we shouldn’t be homing in on Hellier so much? Stretch our horizons a little. See if we can’t rake up a few more viable suspects.’
‘You think I’m fixating on Hellier?’ Sean snapped. ‘You think I’m putting the investigation at risk?’
‘That’s not what I said.’
‘But it’s what you’re thinking.’ Sean regretted the words as soon as they’d left his mouth. He wished he could explain to Donnelly how he could be so certain of something long before the evidence justified it. How he’d seen the killer strutting around Daniel Graydon’s flat, calm and content, the dead man lying in an ever-increasing pool of blood, of no concern to him now – an empty shell that had served its purpose. But he knew he couldn’t tell Donnelly what he had seen. He couldn’t tell Donnelly that when he looked into Hellier’s face he saw more than just skin, bone and flesh – he saw into the man’s soul and could see only darkness.
Sally walked into New Scotland Yard, a huge glass building just around the corner from Parliament Square. Standard searches of criminal intelligence and conviction databases had yielded nothing. It was time to try something a little different, which was why she’d come to check the Method Index. They kept records of serious and violent crimes, as well as unusual crimes. If an offender used the same peculiar method more than once, it was possible he or she could be identified here. Sally walked into the Method Index office and glanced around the small beige room. Wooden desks were squeezed together. Ancient, worn-out computers filled every corner. Large posters adorned the walls advertising what the department could do for you. Everything seemed old. The two people in the room looked surprised to have a visitor. One, a thin, bespectacled, middle-aged man nervously closed the filing cabinet he’d been tending and hesitantly moved towards Sally. He spoke shyly.
‘Are you looking for somebody?’ He had a Yorkshire accent, unblunted by years in London.
Sally realized they didn’t get many visitors. ‘Well, if this is Method Index, I guess I’ve found the right place.’ She tried to sound enthusiastic. ‘DS Sally Jones, from Serious Crime Group South.’ She held out her hand and hoped the mention of her unit might stir some interest. The nervous man seemed confused. ‘The Murder Squad,’ Sally added. ‘SCG is the Murder Squad.’
‘Oh,’ the man said. ‘That’s what you’re called now. They keep changing the names of things so much I can never keep up.’ He accepted the offer of Sally’s outstretched hand and shook it with a smile. ‘I’m DC Harvey Williams. Everyone calls me Harve. They put me in charge of this little team a few years ago and I think they’ve forgotten about me, to be honest.’ He pointed at a young man with long hair who was sifting through an ocean of paper files. ‘That’s Doug. He’s a civilian. The rest of the team are off today. In fact, the only reason anyone’s here is because we’re moving all our old paper files on to the computers. We don’t get much of a chance for overtime here, so when they offered …’
So this was the Met’s answer to the world-famous FBI Behavioral Science Unit. An ageing detective constable the world had forgotten about and a handful of unqualified civilian employees. She may have made a mistake coming here, but on the other hand what did she have to lose apart from an afternoon?
DC Williams continued. ‘How can we help you, DS Jones?’
‘I’m interested in any profiles of murderers that fit our case.’
Williams pursed his lips. ‘We don’t do profiles here, I’m afraid. We have methods of crime used by people. Not profiles of them.’
Sally understood the difference. A profile referred to a psychological profile of an offender. It was rarely used by the Metropolitan Police. Despite being highly publicized in the media and films, the truth was that psychological profiles were of very limited value. Matching methods of crime to offenders was far more useful.
‘I apologize. Slip of the tongue.’
‘No need to apologize,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Grab a seat. Anywhere you like. No small-time imperialists in this office. Now, tell me what you’re after. Spare me no details. The devil’s always in the details. Absolutely always in the details.’
London steamed. Sean couldn’t remember another summer like it. No rain. No wind. No relief. The devil’s own weather. His mobile was ringing. He kept driving and answered. ‘DI Corrigan.’
‘Hello, guv’nor.’ It was Donnelly. ‘Just to let you know, I’m with the surveillance team. Making sure they don’t spend a week following the wrong man.’
‘Good. Any movement from Hellier?’
‘Nah. He’s still at home. He hasn’t been out anywhere yet. He’s only looked out the window once. Didn’t seem to be checking for us, though.’
‘I’m coming to join you,’ Sean announced. ‘I’ll call your mobile when I’m in the area. If he moves, ring me.’ He hung up.
Donnelly turned to DC Paulo Zukov sitting next to him. Zukov spoke. ‘Problem?’
‘Nah, but be aware. The guv’nor’s on his way.’
‘So what makes you think Method Index can help with your murder?’ DC Williams asked. ‘Unusual, is it?’
‘A little unusual,’ Sally replied. ‘The victim was stabbed an excessively large number of times, having already been half-killed with a couple of blows to the head. The weapon used was an ice pick or stiletto knife
