When Tim arrived at Lincoln police station later that day, he was shocked at the change in Michael Robinson. Robinson’s customary bluff camaraderie, which irritated Tim by being both patronising and, he felt, frequently tinged with suppressed aggression, had vanished. Robinson was a ghastly colour: his face had taken on a greenish hue and the skin below his eyes was bruised and baggy. His shirt was crumpled and looked suspiciously like the one he had been wearing the day before. He shook Tim’s hand warmly, the macho vice-like grip abandoned.
‘Tim,’ he said. ‘Am I glad to see you. Thanks for coming.’
It was on the tip of Tim’s tongue to point out that his presence was hardly voluntary, but he stopped himself in time. It would be stupid to quit while he was winning. Instead, he decided to polish his newly-acquired halo.
‘My pleasure, Michael,’ he said briskly. ‘How are you? You look bushed, as if you’ve been up all night.’
‘I have, pretty much. But that doesn’t bother me – we’ve all done it at times like this, haven’t we? It’s finding the body of that young girl that’s got to me.’
Tim nodded sympathetically.
‘It’s always worse when it’s a child. You never get hardened to it.’
They were in Michael Robinson’s office, which was both long and wide: rather a grand room for someone of his rank. Superintendent Thornton might have adopted a more ironical attitude towards his protégé if he’d seen the trappings with which he surrounded himself. Robinson began to pace the length of the room now, compulsively curling and uncurling the fingers of both hands as he walked.
‘Are you really okay?’ Tim asked. ‘Let me get you some coffee. Or perhaps you should go home for a shower and a couple of hours’ kip before we make a start?’
‘No time for that. Coffee would be great – there’s some in the pot over there. It just needs pouring.’
Tim went over to the coffee-maker Robinson had indicated and poured out two cups of coffee.
‘Sugar or milk?’
‘No, just neat, thanks.’ Robinson’s hand shook as he took the cup. Some of the coffee spilled into the saucer.
‘Michael, what is wrong with you? Believe me, nobody knows better than me the pressures of a murder investigation and what they can do to you, but if you’ll forgive me for saying so, you seem to be barely holding it together. You weren’t like this yesterday.’
Robinson put down the cup of coffee, plonked himself heavily into a chair and rubbed his eyes with both hands.
‘You’re right, it isn’t just the investigation. The fact is, I’ve made a terrible mistake.’
Tim took the seat opposite him.
‘What kind of mistake? You’ve not had any sleep – it’s probably not as bad as you think.’
‘I’ve been careless, slapdash. When the newspapers get hold of the story, they’ll have a field day.’
‘You’re beginning to sound like Thor… my boss, now. What have you done? And how do you know the media will find out?’
‘Oh, they’ll find out all right; as will the Chief Constable, the kid’s parents and just about anyone else you can think of who might have a passing interest in the case. The thing is, I didn’t detail anyone to guard the crime scene at the canal last night.’
‘You mean you left a new crime scene unprotected?’
‘Yes. It wasn’t a conscious decision – I could pretend I considered it, but I didn’t. It’s a remote spot, and I could say we were pretty certain that any further evidence would be in the canal and not on the bank, and so on. I’m sure that’s what the Chief Constable will tell me to say publicly when he gives me a bollocking. But the fact is, I just forgot.’
Tim nodded sympathetically.
‘It’s the sort of thing I’d forget, if I didn’t have someone like Juliet to remind me. Anyway, there’s quite a lot of credibility in those points you just made, if the story does break.’
‘Yes, but they’re not the nub of it, are they? When the papers latch on to it, they’re going to say that if a police guard had been there, the kid might have been saved. The killer would have got windy, dumped her while she was still alive and run for it.’
‘That’s making assumptions about all sorts of things. First of all, we don’t know that she was murdered…’
‘Come off it, Tim. I know kids of that age do top themselves, but do you really think she would have gone there to do it? You don’t think she’ll turn out to be a suicide, do you?’
‘No,’ Tim admitted. ‘No, I don’t. But if she was murdered, the chances are she was already dead when the killer took her to the canal. Forensics might be on your side there.’
‘I agree it’ll help if they can prove she was killed somewhere else. But you know what reporters are like: this will give them the chance to concoct a juicy story about police negligence and they won’t be too particular about whether all the facts fit.’
There was a long silence. Tim knew that Robinson was right: the press would have a field day. And there was no way they could prevent the story getting out: three murders in the same place, one of them possibly preventable. Journalists’ entire careers had been built on less. A small gremlin deep inside him was quietly sniggering: he couldn’t help feeling an element of schadenfreude as Robinson described his predicament. He banished it sternly. As he’d admitted with perfect honesty, long before now he would almost certainly have been in the same jam himself if he hadn’t been supported by such an efficient team, particularly Juliet.
The only constructive thing he could do to help Robinson would be to change the subject.
‘You’re going to have to forget about all that for the moment, Michael. You’re probably right that the media will sniff out the error, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, we must focus on the case. I know we’re waiting for Forensics and all the rest of it, but what’s your first reaction? Assuming the girl was murdered, do you think all three deaths are linked?’
Robinson sat up. He was obviously making an effort to concentrate. He seemed calmer now he’d got his confession off his chest.
‘The two headless bodies must have been dumped by the same perpetrator; that’s a no-brainer. The chances of two murderers mutilating two young women in the same way and chucking them into the same canal at exactly the same spot are zilch. I don’t know what to think about the girl. I’ve been puzzling it over. The likeliest explanation, it seems to me, is that her killer knew that we’d found the first headless body – that wouldn’t be difficult: I’d had a press conference, for God’s sake – and deliberately dumped her at the same place. But then he would have had to know that the crime scene had been left unguarded – unless he just took a chance on it, or approached it carefully until he was sure. If all that’s correct, his only reason for dumping her there must have been to draw attention to himself. And it suggests that he’s local. That doesn’t necessarily mean that the girl’s killer is the same person that killed the two women. But it doesn’t look like a copycat crime, either. However she died, she wasn’t decapitated.’
‘Those are precisely my own conclusions,’ said Tim. He paused for a moment. Something that Robinson had just said had triggered a recent memory, though he couldn’t quite catch it. He’d have to let it niggle away until it rose to the surface again. ‘Now,’ he continued, ‘Superintendent Thornton has agreed that I should be seconded to this case. I don’t know how open-ended that arrangement will be: Thornton has a habit of giving with one hand and taking away with the other.’
‘Really?’ Michael Robinson seemed genuinely astonished.
‘Yes, well forget I said that. The point I’m making is that I’ll help you in every possible way while I’m here, but it may not be for as long as either of us would like. How do you want to work it? Naturally, you’ll be the SIO. As he says, there can’t be two of us.’
‘Actually, I was thinking we could be joint SIOs. You’ve been involved in more murder cases than I have. I can benefit from your experience.’
Tim could hardly believe his ears. Robinson’s self-confidence must have taken a greater knock from the mistake he’d made than Tim would have thought possible. That the error would be lurking away in the background, and inevitably revealed at some stage, undoubtedly with unpleasant consequences for them both, made the offer less attractive than it might have been, but there was no way he would kow-tow to Robinson as a subordinate if there was an alternative.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll go along with that.’