shrugged.
‘Looks like someone found out where he was staying,’ Sally said. ‘Did he tell people where he was living?’
‘No,’ she replied. ‘He told me south of the river, but didn’t say anything more specific.’
‘What about anyone from the homeless community?’ Sally asked, looking over at the dishevelled figures eating and drinking. ‘Could someone have known?’
‘Maybe.’ Birkby called across to two of the younger men in the group. ‘Tom. Archie.’ They both looked in her direction. ‘These guys knew William. Maybe they can help.’ The two young men, wearing layer upon of layer of clothes to defend against the bitter cold, shuffled forward. Little could be seen of their faces aside from their eyes, peering through small gaps in the mixture of hats and scarfs they wore.
‘What’s up?’ Archie asked, shuffling from one foot to the other to keep warm.
‘These are detectives,’ Birkby explained. ‘Trying to find out why someone attacked William. You guys knew him pretty well, right?’
‘I guess,’ Archie shrugged.
‘William didn’t sleep in the West End,’ Sally took over. ‘Do you know where he went?’
‘Nah.’ Archie shook his head. ‘Said he had a garage over by London Bridge. He never said where.’
‘And you?’ Sally asked Tom. ‘Did he tell you where?’
‘No, man,’ Tom mumbled, looking anywhere other than at the detectives. ‘Never showed anybody. Never told anybody.’
‘People’re saying he must have been followed,’ Archie said, fidgeting where he stood, the fear sharp and real in his eyes.
‘Nobody knows that,’ Sally told him.
‘Yeah, well, people are scared,’ Archie continued. ‘People are saying he killed a woman in the same way. A prostitute or something. Took her teeth just like he did with Will. People are saying he’s evil – that he’s hunting people like us, like we’re some kind of animals – that the teeth are his trophies. Some people are saying he’s not even a man – that he’s something else – something no one can stop. Not even the police.’
‘All right,’ Birkby interrupted. ‘That sort of talk’s only going to make people more afraid.’
‘People couldn’t be more afraid,’ Archie told her. ‘We don’t have safe places to go. We don’t have doors we can lock. We’re easy prey, man. Easy prey.’
‘I understand your fears,’ Sally explained, ‘but there’s no evil out there – just a man. A man who pretty soon we’ll catch. Until then, everybody needs to be extra vigilant and look out for each other. Keep your eyes open for any strangers who don’t fit in, anyone acting suspiciously and make sure you report it.’
‘Have there been?’ Cahill asked. ‘Have there been any strangers hanging around?’
‘There are always strangers in the West End,’ Archie told her.
‘Any that concerned you?’ Cahill pressed. The two men merely shrugged and looked at the ground.
‘Anyone you can think of who we should be speaking to?’ Sally asked. ‘Someone who knew William better than most.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ Archie answered without hesitation. ‘You should speak with Jonnie. He and Will did stuff together, you know.’
‘You got a surname?’ Cahill asked.
‘Dunno,’ Archie answered, scratching his head through the multiple layers. ‘Everyone just calls him Jonnie.’
‘Freyland,’ Tom suddenly blurted out. ‘His surname is Freyland, but I ain’t seen him around for a couple of days. Not since that shit happened to Will.’
‘Is that unusual?’ Sally asked.
Tom shrugged and looked into the sky. ‘I guess.’
Sally and Cahill exchanged knowing glances. ‘Then I think we’d better find him,’ Sally said, pulling several business cards from her coat pocket and handing them out to her audience of three – giving extra cards to Archie. ‘Spread those around for me,’ she told him. ‘If anyone thinks they know something or knows where we can find Jonnie, get them to call me. Understand?’
‘OK,’ Archie answered unenthusiastically.
‘I’m trying to do the right thing for Will,’ she explained, finally making eye contact with him. ‘I only hope you are too.’
Sean and Donnelly arrived at what used to be the old Metropolitan Police Cadet school. The place had long since been taken over by various support services and police units, including the Murder Investigation Teams for North London. They drove on to the parade ground that was only ever used now for passing out ceremonies for recruits who’d successfully made it through the famous Training School in Hendon and parked. Both men had strong memories of marching around the hallowed ground, watched by proud friends and family.
‘Fucking hate this place,’ Donnelly moaned. ‘Reminds me of training school.’
‘Didn’t like it here?’ Sean asked.
‘You joking?’ Donnelly sneered. ‘All that polishing shoes, starched shirts and short hair. All that yes, sir, no, sir bullshit. Fucking couldn’t wait to get out.’
‘I kind of liked it,’ Sean told him. ‘Didn’t at first – found the discipline and petty rules tough, but I got over it. Enjoyed it in the end.’
‘How the hell did you manage that?’
‘I embraced it,’ Sean answered. ‘Made sure my shoes were the shiniest, my uniform the best pressed. Got fitter and faster than anyone else. Stopped fighting the system. I took a break from all the shit of the world outside and focused on doing the little things well.’
‘All the shit of the world?’ Donnelly mocked him. ‘You must have had a fucking shit childhood if Hendon was an escape.’
Donnelly had no idea how close to the bone his remark was. Sean felt himself tense at the mere mention of his childhood, ugly memories of his abusive father invading his mind like a marauding horde, all those hours he’d endured, locked in his father’s bedroom while his mother pretended not to know what was happening. Quickly he fought to rebuild the walls that kept the darkness and demons at bay and allowed him to live almost like any other person. He swallowed the anger he felt towards Donnelly for having mentioned his childhood, albeit without knowing what it meant to him. ‘It’s a state of mind, that’s all,’ he answered. ‘Like most things.’
‘Not sure about that,’ Donnelly replied and heaved himself out of the car. Sean gave himself a few seconds to let the last remnants of his childhood memories fade away before following suit. They headed across the parade ground towards the low-rise building where the North London MITs had their offices. Once inside, they searched the corridors until they found the team they were looking for.
Sean stopped the first person he came across: ‘I’m looking for DCI
