Lulu and Phil followed DI Friar and DC Townsend into the GMP building. Conrad was sitting on Lulu’s shoulders and his ears pricked up when a tall, dark-haired man in a long, black trench coat stood up from a chair and walked towards DI Friar. ‘What the hell is he doing here?’ she muttered.
The man was in his late forties, his hair slicked back behind his ears, his face creased into a beaming smile that showed brilliant white teeth. There was a light blue double-breasted suit under his trench coat, along with a crisp white shirt and a black and yellow striped tie with crests on it. ‘Julie, lovely to see you,’ he said.
‘Who let you in, Dickie?’ The man was blocking her way to the lifts, so she stopped.
‘And DC Townsend, faithful scribe and bag carrier. I hear you were both out on Stretford Meadows bright and early this morning.’
‘Who told you that, Dickie?’
‘Investigating another murder, is that right?’
‘Where are you getting your information from?’
The man ignored her and flashed his gleaming smile at Lulu. He was well over six feet tall and Lulu had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes, which were a piercing blue. ‘Sorry, I didn’t get your name,’ he said. He offered his hand. ‘Dickie McNeil of the Manchester Evening News.’
Lulu shook his hand. The skin was soft and the nails glistened as if they had been polished. There was a faint smell of sandalwood and citrus around him and a minty aroma to his breath. ‘Nice to meet you, Dickie.’
McNeil continued to smile at Lulu, but his pale blue eyes were as hard as ice. ‘Are you involved in this serial killer case?’ he asked.
‘Goodness gracious, no,’ said Lulu. ‘I’d lost my cat and DI Friar helped me find him.’ She patted Conrad, who purred loudly.
McNeil grinned at DI Friar. ‘From serial killers to lost cats! Is there no end to your talents, Julie?’
‘I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Dickie.’
‘You’re throwing out a card-carrying member of the fourth estate, are you, Julie? A story like that deserves to be on the front page.’
DI Friar sighed. ‘What do you want?’
McNeil looked at Phil. ‘And what about you, sir? Are you involved in the case of the missing cat? Or are you on the hunt for the Strangler?’
‘Please don’t give him a nickname, Dickie,’ said DI Friar. ‘That’s the last thing we need.’
McNeil grinned. ‘So you are admitting that you are chasing a serial killer? Looks like I have my splash.’
‘That’s not what I said, Dickie. Please don’t make things up.’
McNeil turned his attention to Phil. ‘You have the look of a cop, sir,’ he said. ‘But I haven’t seen you around. Are you from another force?’
Phil smiled amiably. ‘I’m just a friend of the family,’ he said. ‘We’ve been looking everywhere for Conrad.’ He patted Conrad, who purred again.
‘How do you know about the body, Dickie?’ asked DI Friar. ‘Who told you there was a body at Stretford Meadows?’
‘Julie, darling, you know you never ask chefs or journalists about their sources.’
‘Was it someone in GMP? Or a member of the public?’
‘I can’t say.’
‘Was it someone who saw the body? A dog walker?’
McNeil just smiled and shrugged.
‘This is important, Dickie. I need to know who told you. Not their name, necessarily, but their situation.’
‘And I need a story, Julie. The information I have is that a naked body complete with noose around its neck was found on Stretford Meadows this morning. Can you confirm that?’
‘We’d like to keep quiet about the rope, but yes, there is a body.’
‘A man in his forties?’
DI Friar nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Have you identified him yet?’
‘No.’
‘So the Strangler has claimed his third victim?’
‘Please don’t use that name, Dickie. It glamorizes him. And it frightens the community.’
‘But you can confirm there have now been three victims?’
‘Quid pro quo, Dickie. Who tipped you off?’
‘I cannot reveal my source – you know that.’
‘I don’t need a name, I just need to know the circumstances.’
‘And you’ll answer my questions if I tell you? Quid pro quo?’
‘I’ll answer some of them. It’s an ongoing investigation so there are limits to what I can say. Much of the information we have is operationally sensitive. Now who called it in?’
‘Just a member of the public. They said the cops were out at Stretford Meadows and that there was the body of a naked man there with a noose around his neck.’
‘Had the caller seen the body? Or just the police activity?’
‘I didn’t ask.’
‘Was the caller a man or a woman?’
‘A woman. Middle-aged, maybe. Local.’
‘And what time was this?’
McNeil pulled a notebook from his pocket and flicked through it. ‘Twenty past nine.’
‘And was the call to your mobile or to the office?’
‘The office. So, who found the body?’
‘It was found by dog walkers early this morning. Just after seven.’
‘And you can confirm there was a rope around the neck?’
‘I already did, Dickie. Yes.’
‘With the same knot that was used before?’
‘The knot that you so helpfully went public with? Yes.’
‘And no sexual activity?’
‘We won’t be able to confirm that until after the post-mortem. Did the woman say anything else?’
‘All she said was that there was a body and that the police were there. We sent a photographer out but the area was cordoned off and the cops wouldn’t let him near the body.’
‘Did the woman leave her name?’
McNeil shook his head. ‘No.’
‘So she didn’t want a tip-off fee?’
‘Just a member of the public doing her civic duty. So you are now confirming that you are hunting a serial killer who is targeting middle-aged men?’
‘No, of course not. Please don’t put words in my mouth, Dickie. Especially when I don’t know where they’ve been.’
‘But you’re okay with me running the story?’
‘I’d rather you didn’t, but I don’t see that I can stop you.’
‘I’d really like to quote you, Julie. To add authenticity.’
‘Any quote will have to come through the press office, you know that.’
‘How about I quote a police source close to the investigation?’
‘“A source familiar with the investigation”,’ said DI Friar. ‘The body is on the way to Manchester Royal Infirmary mortuary as we speak. I’m sure you’ve got a contact there. Please, Dickie, remember that everything I’ve given you is off the record. We never spoke.’
McNeil grinned. ‘Understood, Julie.’ He looked at Lulu and Phil. ‘Pleasure meeting you, mysterious strangers. I’m so glad you got your cat back.’ He winked at Conrad and made a clicking sound, then walked away, his long coat flapping behind him.
DI Friar narrowed her eyes as she stared after him. ‘That man is just so annoying.’
‘I don’t think he believed me about my missing cat,’ said Lulu.
‘I’m sure he didn’t,’ said DI Friar. ‘I just hope his contacts within the GMP don’t tell him why you and DI Jackson are here. That could get very complicated.’
Lulu nodded. ‘Yes, we don’t want the killer knowing that we’ve linked the two sets of murders. And I gather you didn’t want to tell him that the third killing probably isn’t related to the first two?’
‘Whoever disposed of today’s body with the rope around the neck is obviously hoping that we will blame our serial killer,’ said DI Friar. ‘It will probably work to our advantage if he thinks we are doing just that.’
‘So in a way, you’re using Dickie McNeil.’
DI Friar smiled grimly. ‘Yes, I suppose I am, in a way.’