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offences are linked.’

‘Which makes it a serial killer, yes? Three victims?’

Ford mouthed a ‘thank you’ as Jan put a fresh mug of coffee and a home-baked flapjack on his desk.

‘Kerry, I need to be straight with you. You can help us get people who might have seen something or know somebody dodgy. But you can also help the killer by feeding his fantasies, which I absolutely want to avoid. Is there a way we can work together?’ he asked.

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning you get your story and I get help, but we don’t get lurid headlines. I’d like to keep it as low-key as possible. We don’t want to start a public panic. You know, “Blood-soaked city living in fear of vampire killer.”’

‘That’s a nice headline. You should come and work as a sub-editor for us. The pay’s better.’

‘I’m sure it is. So, do we have a deal?’

‘Let’s call it a working arrangement.’

At that afternoon’s case meeting, the whiteboard was in heavy use. Ford stood to one side as he drew suggestions and links from his team.

‘Let’s look at people we know of who might have had a reason to kill Angie.’

‘I tracked down the son of the woman Angie gave the wrong drugs to, guv,’ Olly said. ‘William Farrell. Lives in the St Marks area.’

‘Background?’

‘Working on it.’

‘Go and see him. Check if he’s got alibis for the murders.’

After a few more minutes of discussion, Ford held up a sheet with the names of the people who’d treated Paul Eadon’s blood poisoning.

‘Our two adult victims are on this list. Angie nursed Paul. It may be that the others are on a kill list. I want them contacted, discreetly, and offered advice on staying safe.’ He held up a warning finger. ‘And before anyone asks, we’ve no money for officers to do guard duty, so if anyone requests it, explain we’ll be doing everything in our power to catch the killer up to but stopping short of police protection.’

‘I’ll assign calls,’ Jan said.

‘Leave Abbott to me,’ Ford said. ‘Now, on to the victimology. Superficially, Angie and Paul had zero commonalities. She’s a nurse, clean as a whistle, not even a parking ticket.’

‘Don’t forget that malpractice thing, guv?’ Mick called out.

‘Noted. Eadon had a string of convictions for petty crime. So dig deeper. The blood-poisoning incident might be something, but don’t let’s get stuck in a rut.’

Ford’s phone rang. Sandy.

‘Henry, got a minute?’

‘What is it, boss? I’m in the middle of something.’

‘My office?’

Sighing, he closed the database screen and headed for the Python’s lair.

He sat in the chair facing his boss, saw her expression and felt his stomach turn over.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

She ran her hands through her hair. Sighed. Plucked at the front of her blouse. ‘I think you’re a bloody good detective, you know that.’

‘Yes. What’s going on?’

He had a flash of the most unwelcome insight. My God, was she going to take over the case?

‘I’ve just had the chief constable on the phone.’

Shit! Abbott had executed a pre-emptive strike. Normally, men like him rattled their sabres but never swung them.

He tried to ignore his racing pulse and fluttering stomach. ‘And?’

‘Have you been questioning a Charles Abbott about the murders?’

‘Yes. He’s a consultant haematologist. I wanted to know about blood.’

Sandy sighed. ‘According to the chief con, you behaved in a, and I quote, “threatening and intimidatory manner, without cause or provocation”, end quote.’

‘That’s bollocks! Abbott’s hiding something, or he knows something. I just tried pushing a couple of buttons and he went into the standard “I know your big boss” spiel.’

‘Trouble is, Henry, he really does. You need to back off. Find out about blood from Google.’

Ford leaned forward, placed his hands on the edge of her desk, glaring at her. ‘Back off? There’s something off about him, boss. I can feel it!’

Sandy stared him down. ‘One, please don’t shout at me, Henry, I’m not deaf. Two, what I am is your boss and the SIO on this case. So if I say back off, you back off. You’ve got other leads, lines of enquiry?’

‘Yes,’ Ford answered, hearing the surliness in his voice and thinking of Sam in one of his strops.

‘Then pursue them. If you get evidence that points to Abbott that doesn’t come from your famous gut, let me know first. Do not – I repeat, do not – go barging into Abbott’s office uninvited again. Understood?’

Ford stood. Barely trusting himself. ‘Understood.’

He managed to leave her office without slamming the door, but it was a close call.

He didn’t have time to brood for long; Jools told him Matty was due in thirty minutes.

‘Let’s have a quick chat about how to handle him,’ he said.

They decamped to Ford’s office to discuss interview strategy. On the way, Ford phoned Hannah and asked her to join them.

‘I want to get Hannah’s take on this. Did you know she worked with the FBI?’

Jools gave a wry chuckle. ‘I think everyone knows that. Including the cleaners. She’s fairly open about her life, or hadn’t you noticed?’

Ford smiled. ‘I had.’

‘We’ve got half an hour before the interview,’ Ford said, once all three were seated round the small table in his office. ‘Jools, what’re your thoughts?’

‘Right from the moment I met him, I felt as though he was toying with me. All innocence and campy hand gestures one minute. Then, I don’t know, he just—’

‘Said something that brought you up short?’

‘Yes! Exactly.’

‘Did you ask him any direct questions?’ Hannah asked.

Jools consulted her notes. ‘A few. Mainly innocuous stuff just to put him at ease. Except for one.’

‘What did you ask him?’

‘If he had anything to do with the murders.’

‘How did he answer?’

‘Strangely. First, he repeated my question back to me. Then he sort of looked into the middle distance. Then he denied it. Made quite a fuss about it. As if it was an insult that anyone would dare to think that.’

‘When people with nothing to hide get asked straight questions, they tend to answer readily,’ Ford said. ‘It’s the dodgy

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