She turns her head to one side. ‘Just that he was a big man who could take care of hisself. He weren’t no troublemaker, but when it found him he could deal with it.’

Alfonse probably says the same about me.

‘Was there any trouble he dealt with that might have come back to bite him?’

‘No. He did what he had to do and stopped there.’ Her fingers pick at a spot on her forehead. ‘He never whaled on a man who couldn’t fight back.’

‘Do you keep in touch with Roger’s family, or any of his friends?’ Perhaps one of them will have the information I need. Faith may have it, but she isn’t prepared to share it lest she inadvertently cuts off a source of possible money. ‘And if you do, have you got a contact for them?’

She reaches inside her shirt and pulls out an old model cell.

I try not to think too hard about where she was keeping it as she gives me a couple of names and numbers.

64

I notice a different air in the police station when I enter the reception. Even Darla appears subdued. Two men with dark suits and cropped hair stand by the desk. Their faces are serious yet blank. Neither looks as if a winning ticket or the death of a family member will change their expressions.

The door to the chief’s office is closed so I give a knock and wait. There’s no answer although I can hear voices inside.

A hand touches my shoulder. It’s one of the statues from reception. He’s being gentle so far, but I know a firmer, more insistent grip is seconds away. ‘Please step away from the door, sir. Chief Watson is busy with Special Agent Doenig. They are not to be disturbed.’

‘I’m working the case and need to update the chief.’ I keep my tone level and fight the impulse to engage him in a staring match.

‘Tell me what you got and I’ll inform them both when they’re finished with the current briefing.’

‘No. This is too important to wait.’ It isn’t, but he doesn’t know that.

Taking advantage of his indecision, I’m two steps into the room before he’s had time to react.

‘What is it, Boulder?’ There’s irritation in the chief’s voice, but I’m confident I’m not the source.

I make a point of acknowledging the squat guy wearing a dark suit and darker expression before turning to the chief. ‘Thought you’d want an update.’

‘What you got?’

‘Ingerson was a big man who knew how to take care of himself. The wife says he hadn’t made any enemies but I’m not so sure.’

‘So you know him better than his wife?’ Doenig’s voice is the raspy drawl of someone who smokes rough tobacco too often. The smell of nicotine hangs over him like a damp hammock.

‘Of course not.’ I’m not trying to antagonise the guy, but it has been a long day and I’m too weary to keep the scorn out of my voice. ‘But I do know guys. Ninety-nine out of a hundred don’t tell their other halves when they’ve been fighting unless there’s no way they can avoid it. Then they make a point of being the one to break the news.’

I get a scowl but no further argument because I’m right. As much as women may like us to assume the role of protectors should trouble come along, deep down they hate to see us fighting because they’re afraid we’ll get hurt. Or worse, too used to solving problems with our fists.

My father never showed Mother the hairy side of his hand, but she’s told me how my paternal grandfather used to beat his wife. Growing up I never knew about it but armed with hindsight and more knowledge, I remember the constant stream of bruises dismissed as ‘silly old granny falling over again.’

‘Thank you, Mr Boulder, your cooperation is appreciated by the United States Government, but I think it would be appropriate for you to stand down now.’

I look at the chief as he’s the man who hired me. It may be a technicality, but there’s no way I’m being sidelined.

The chief is motionless, his face gives nothing away. Perhaps he’s auditioning for a role as a feebie statue. Then again, he’s a wise old bird who knows how to play the political game when he has to.

By staying mute and still, he’s showing allegiance to both sides while leaving us to sort it out between us. As a law enforcer, he operates in a hierarchical system and the special agent outranks him, the counterbalance being this is his patch and the FBI will find things a lot easier with his cooperation.

‘You didn’t hire me, therefore you can’t fire me. I have been assisting the police, and everything I’ve learned has been shared with them at the earliest possible opportunity. I’d like that situation to continue.’ I spread my hands out. ‘You can make the arrests and take the credit. All I want is to stay involved.’

‘The FBI does not work with amateur sleuths, Mr Boulder.’ His face softens a fraction of a fraction. ‘But in respect of what you’ve already achieved, I think Chief Watson should one day hire you as a detective. If today should be that day…’

The chief gets his inference a second before I do. A gnarled hand leaves his temple and opens a drawer. A badge flies my way along with a pointy-fingered admonishment.

‘You’re on probation until this case is over, then we’ll review your situation. You ain’t getting a gun until I know you’re competent. Understand?’

‘Yes, Chief.’ I decide this isn’t the best time to ask about a 401K.

‘Let’s get one thing clear right from the start, Mr Boulder. The FBI leads and you as a rookie detective follow.’

Doenig waves me to a seat and starts to pepper the chief with questions about the case. His instincts are good and the points he’s interested in are the ones which have been puzzling me.

He suggests a profiler, so I tell him what I’ve gleaned from Dr Edwards. I get a firm nod as a sign of approval but he still wants to speak to his own guy. It’s only right he does. However good the advice we’ve gotten so far may be, an experienced FBI profiler will always have better insights than a small-town psychologist.

When Doenig is finished questioning the chief, I tell them what little I’ve learned from Faith Ingerson.

I can see the special agent is sceptical about Ingerson being the first victim, so I explain how Alfonse traced the murders back from Kira.

He listens, but his eyes flit around the room as I’m talking. He’s not taking it in properly, which means he’s either fixated on something else or he’s learned the hard way not to trust evidence handed to him in a nice neat bundle. If I was a gambler my money would be on the latter.

While not accepting our evidence, I’m sure he’ll follow a lot of our footsteps. In the meantime, I can forge ahead and work the leads already developed.

One of the FBI statues bursts in. His face grave but otherwise immobile. ‘Sir, there’s been another body found.’

65

Norm puts the cell back in his pocket and waits for the police to come. This is going to be fun. His family will be gathered together by the police for safeguarding, just like the families of his other victims. Not only will he be inside the police’s circle, they’ll be protecting him from the killer.

It’s something he’s prepared for.

His cousin wasn’t prepared. Her lack of preparation is the reason her corpse is lying naked on the trail behind Sharon Linskey’s house.

It hadn’t taken much effort to get her alone. Always keen to interfere, she’d welcomed him into her home when he’d said he wanted advice regarding a girl he was seeing.

Being prepared he’d brought wine. While she’d finished her dinner, he’d poured her a glass of wine and added a few drops of the poison distilled from the cartons of cigarettes. The random selection of kill methods had thrown back the latest addition.