One Dark Night by Solomon Carter

Author:Solomon Carter [Carter, Solomon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-06-10T00:00:00+00:00

Fifteen

The next morning.

Hogarth was at his desk by seven forty am, drinking a second cup of coffee. The bags beneath his eyes had been bolstered by too many whiskies and a fitful night’s sleep following the revelations of Jordan’s research. He’d seen the morning headlines on the BBC news website where the words ‘serial killer’ were in full flow. After that, Hogarth had avoided switching on the TV and radio. He was under enough pressure without letting the media destroy what remained of his peace. The discovery on Jordan’s desk was a problem in waiting. He wanted it forgotten, but Hogarth was under no illusions. Alex Galvan had been a burden during Hogarth’s whole time in Southend. He dreaded what the man’s father was capable of. But whatever was going on with Kaplan, he hoped it wasn’t as bad as he feared. He tried to push it aside, as he re-read the case notes left from the various murder sites. The trouble was, only fifty per cent of what he read seemed to be going in.

At two minutes to eight, Palmer walked in, chatting to DC Kaplan who followed immediately behind her. Hogarth glanced over his shoulder, meeting Palmer’s eyes with a nod. Palmer froze for a moment, doing a double-take of Hogarth’s sleepless eyes and craggy face, before she carried on towards her desk as if she hadn’t noticed a thing. Kaplan did a similar double-take but tried to compensate with a thin, defensive smile.

“Morning, sir.”

“I hope you’re ready for battle this morning, Kaplan. Based on the press coverage, from now on it’s going to be a tin hat job until we’ve got an arrest.”

“Looks that way, sir,” she replied, in agreement. Hogarth turned his seat to face his colleagues as they sat down.

“I’ve already put a schedule of today’s work on Melford’s desk. I’m hoping that will keep the DCI off my back at least till lunchtime. I’d prefer we got out there and made some headway before Rollins starts breathing down our necks.”

Hogarth tracked Kaplan with his eyes as she shuffled onto her seat. Her eyes said she felt as tired as Hogarth, yet somehow, she wore it better. Feeling Hogarth’s eyes, she laid her bag aside and turned to face the music, but Hogarth said nothing. Palmer sensed the pressure in his gaze and wondered what was coming. Palmer shifted in her seat, attempting to draw his eyes away.

“Did you get anywhere with Marris?” she asked.

“What?” said Hogarth, coming to his senses. “No. I tried all the usual avenues. Marris and Dickens didn’t have much to say, except to say that Nathan Peake probably had his head caved in on the handbasin in the public loo. They say our psycho followed him into the toilets then smashed his head on the basin. He likes killing, but he gets the job done quickly and moves on. That’s the way Gutteridge died, and it’s the way Dot Turner went too.”

“And the young woman? Pippa Grain?” asked Kaplan.

“It was similar.

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