‘You want one?’
Ridpath’s hand hovered over the open pack of Trebor mints. He hated these things, but anything to rid his mouth and sinuses of the taste and smell of the mortuary.
They were standing outside on the street after the post-mortem, the sun thinking about going down over Manchester and the rush-hour traffic honking with impatience.
‘Right, Oliver, you need to let Dave Connor know what happened in there.’
‘Will do.’
‘We have a couple of leads you need to follow up. I want you to check with local hospitals, universities, funeral homes and labs. See if any human hands have gone missing recently. The fact that they were placed in embalming liquid suggests they may have been stolen, perhaps as a prank.’
‘Right, sir. It could be a lot of places to check.’
‘Nonetheless, it needs to be done. We can’t launch a major police investigation if these hands have been sitting in some university lab and have been stolen by somebody with a bizarre sense of humour. We won’t know until you check. And it’s Ridpath, not sir, not Tom, not boss. Just Ridpath.’
‘Yes, sir… I mean Ridpath.’
‘Second, ring up Hannah and find out how she’s getting on with the backpack. It’s our one piece of tangible evidence. Hopefully it will have a nice juicy fingerprint somewhere, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.’
‘Will do.’
‘Follow up also on the DNA and fingerprint analysis of the hands. We need to work out who these people were.’
Davis stopped scribbling for a moment. ‘If we have three hands, it must mean there are three bodies out there somewhere?’
‘Good question. Check up on reports of body parts found in the last twenty years using HOLMES 2. Particularly any bodies missing hands. And, finally, we need to know who underwent hand surgery in the last twenty years. Start with the Greater Manchester area first.’
‘Right.’ He sighed loudly. ‘It’s a lot for me to do, Ridpath.’
‘And Dave Connor isn’t much help?’
‘I’m not criticising Dave, but he’s a bit slow. Half his time seems to be spent handling Chief Inspector Holloway.’
‘It’s the way of the world, Oliver. You need to do the running around.’
‘What are you going to do, Ridpath?’
‘A couple of things. I want to know more about the place the hands were discovered—’
‘Daisy House, the children’s home?’
‘I want to know why it was referenced in Operation Pharaoh.’
‘Right,’
‘Plus I have a misper to look into for the coroner.’
‘Misper?’
‘Missing person. What are they teaching you in the academy these days, Oliver?’
‘Not a lot, according to Chief Inspector Holloway.’
‘Ignore him. There’s always idiots like him in the force, continually finding fault with others because it’s easier than helping them. Let’s meet up at Stretford nick tomorrow at eleven a.m. to check progress? I have to meet a family in the morning.’
Davis glanced down Oxford Road. ‘Fancy a pint? I’m sure there’s a pub round here.’
‘Sorry, I can’t. The daughter is waiting for me at home. You married?’
‘Nah, got a steady girlfriend though. A PC in Wythenshawe.’
‘At least she understands the life.’
‘But trying to co-ordinate shifts is a bastard.’
‘Right, I’d better be off, otherwise I’ll suffer the wrath of a twelve-year-old. Frankly, I’d rather have my nadgers strangled in a vice.’
‘See you tomorrow.’
‘Do as much as you can before we meet. If necessary, I’ll go back to Claire Trent and ask for more resource.’
‘The head of MIT?’
‘The one and only.’
‘Bit of a dragon lady. Gave a speech at the academy about policing in the modern world. Scared the shit out of all of us. Apparently computers are going to be more important than coppers in the future.’
‘Don’t you believe it. Somebody has to actually take down the villains and I’ve yet to see a laptop chase after and collar a thug running away through a Salford housing estate.’
Davis looked at the list he had written down in his notebook and frowned. ‘Holloway also wants a report on the post-mortem on his desk at nine a.m. too.’
‘Welcome to the world of coppering, Oliver. Nobody said it was going to be easy.’
‘Nobody said it was going to be this hard either.’
Ridpath patted him on the shoulder. ‘See you at eleven tomorrow. Do what you can before then.’
Oliver Davis nodded. ‘One more thing. What you said to the pathologist about this being a serial killer. Were you serious?’
Ridpath shook his head. ‘I don’t know, Oliver, I just don’t know. Maybe it’s something worse.’
‘What’s worse than a serial killer?’
‘Two serial killers. But then again, it could be a medical student with an incredibly warped sense of humour.’
‘How will we know?’
‘We do the work, Oliver. We just do the work.’