DI Sean Corrigan Crime Series: 6-Book Collection: Cold Killing, Redemption of the Dead, The Keeper, The Network, The Toy Taker and The Jackdaw. Luke Delaney

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      ‘Shit. Sorry I’m late, guv.’ The hum of low laughter grew. Sally swatted one of the constables across the head as she walked past. He threw his hands up in protest. ‘I told you to come and get me, Paulo.’ The constable didn’t answer, but the smile on his face said everything.

      Sean joined in. ‘Afternoon, Sally. Thanks for joining us.’

      ‘It’s a pleasure, sir.’

      ‘As I’m sure you’ve all worked out, we’ve picked up another murder.’ Some of the team groaned.

      Sally spoke up. ‘We’re only in summer and already we’ve had sixteen murders on this team alone. Eight still need preparing for court. Who’s going to put those court presentations together if we’re constantly being dumped on?’ There was a rumble of approval around the room.

      ‘No point moaning,’ Sean told them. ‘All the other teams are just as busy as we are, so we get this one. As you’re all no doubt aware, we don’t have a live investigation running so we’re the obvious choice.’

      Sean was prepared for the grumblings. Police officers always grumbled. They were either moaning about being too busy or they were moaning about not earning enough overtime. It was a fact of life with police.

      He continued. ‘Okay, this is the job. What we know so far is our victim was beaten and stabbed to death. At this time we believe the victim is Daniel Graydon, the occupier of the flat where we’re pretty certain the crime took place. But his facial injuries are severe, so visual identification has yet to be confirmed. We are treating the flat as our primary crime scene. Dave and I have already had a look around and it’s not pretty. The victim would appear to have been hit on the head with a heavy object and that may well have been the critical injury, although we’ll have to wait for the autopsy to confirm that. The stab wounds are numerous and spread across a wide area. This was a vicious, brutal attack.

      ‘It is suspected the victim may be gay, and the early theory is that it was probably a domestic. If that’s the case, then the killer himself could be hurt. We’re already checking the hospitals and custody suites on the off chance he was picked up for something else after fleeing the scene. I don’t want this to get complicated, so let’s keep it simple. A nice, neat, join-the-dots investigation will do me fine.’

      Sean looked towards Sally.

      ‘Sally, I want you to pick four guys and start on door-to-door immediately. That time of night, beaten to death, someone must have heard or seen something. The rest of you, hang fire. The lab team is looking at the victim’s personal stuff, so we’ll have a long list of people to trace and chat with soon enough. I don’t expect it to be long before we have a decent idea who our prime suspect is.

      ‘Dave. You go office manager on this one.’ Donnelly nodded acknowledgement. ‘The rest of you check with Dave at least three times a day for your assignments. And remember,’ Sean added, ‘the first few hours are the most important, so let’s eat on the hoof and worry about sleep when the killer’s banged up downstairs.’

      There were nods of approval as the group began to break up. Sean could sense their optimism, their trust in his leadership, his judgement. He hadn’t failed them yet.

      He prayed this case would be no different.

      It was almost 1 p.m. and Sean had spent the morning on the phone. He’d told the same story a dozen times. To his superintendent, the Intelligence Unit, the Gay and Lesbian liaison officer, the local uniformed duty officer, the Community Safety Inspector. He was sick of telling. Sally and Donnelly had returned for their meeting and sat in his office. Sally had brought coffee and sandwiches, which Sean ate without tasting. It was the first thing he had eaten since the phone call from Donnelly early that morning, so he was happy just to get something into his stomach.

      Between bites they talked, all of them aware they hadn’t a moment to waste on a proper lunch. The first days of a murder inquiry were always the same – so much to get through and so little time. Forensic evidence degraded, witnesses’ memories faded, CCTV tapes would be recorded over. Time was Sean’s enemy now.

      ‘Anything from the door-to-door, Sally?’ he asked. ‘Give me good news only.’

      ‘Nothing,’ she replied. ‘I’ve still got guys down there knocking on doors, but so far all we’re being told is that Graydon kept himself to himself. No noisy parties. No fights. No problems. No nothing. Everybody says he was a nice kid. As for last night, nobody saw or heard a thing. Another quiet night in South London.’

      ‘That can’t be right,’ Sean argued. ‘A man gets beaten to death within a few feet of what, four other flats, and no one heard it?’

      ‘That’s what we’re being told.’

      Sean sighed and turned towards Donnelly. ‘Dave?’

      ‘Aye. We’ve managed to make copies of his diary, address book and what have you. I’ve got a couple of the lads going through that now. Expect to be informed about next of kin pretty soon. No boyfriend yet, though. No one name coming up over and over. I’ll be sending the troops out to trace friends and associates as and when we have their details. Oh, and the Coroner’s Officer has been on the blower. The body’s been moved from the scene and taken to Guy’s Hospital. Post-mortem’s at four p.m. today.’

      Sean’s mind flashed with the images of previous post-mortems he’d attended as he pushed what was left of his sandwiches to one side.

      ‘Who’s doing it?’

      ‘You’ve got your wish there, boss. It’s Dr Canning. Anything more from the forensics team at the scene?’

      ‘Not yet. Roddis doesn’t reckon they’ll be finished until about this time tomorrow, then as usual everything gets sent to the lab and we wait.’

      A young detective from Sean’s team appeared at the door holding a small piece of paper pinched between his fingers. ‘I think I’ve found an address for the parents.’ The three detectives continued to look at him.

      ‘I’ll take that, thanks,’ Sally told him. The young detective handed her the note and backed away from the door.

      Sean knew his responsibilities. ‘I’ll come too. Shit, this is gonna be fun. Dave, I’ll see you back here at about three thirty. You can take me to the post-mortem.’

      ‘I’ll be here,’ Donnelly assured him.

      Sean tugged his jacket on and headed for the door, Sally in pursuit. ‘And remember,’ he told Donnelly, ‘if anyone asks, this is a straightforward domestic murder. No need to get anyone excited.’

      ‘Having doubts?’ Donnelly managed to ask before Sean was gone.

      ‘No,’ Sean answered, not entirely truthfully. For a second he was back in the flat, back at the scene of the slaughter, watching the killer moving around Graydon’s prostrate form, but he saw no panic or fury in his actions, no jealousy or rage, only a coldness – a sense of satisfaction.

      Donnelly’s voice snapped him back. ‘You all right, guv’nor?’

      ‘Sorry, yes I’m fine. Just find me the boyfriend – whoever he is. Find him and you’ve found our prime suspect.’

      ‘I’ll do my best.’

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