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Chapter 4

‘Can I make a suggestion?’ Poe said after the room had emptied. Flynn also stayed behind. ‘When we do find a body, there’s a pathologist in the north-east you should ask to take a look. Estelle Doyle. It looks like we might need the best and, trust me, she is.’

‘I’ve heard of Professor Doyle,’ Nightingale said. ‘Will she be available? And do you think she would look at the six fingers? The attending pathologist was a locum.’

‘I’ll call her when we’re finished here.’ Estelle Doyle was the weirdest person Poe knew – even weirder than Bradshaw. He’d be surprised if she did something as vanilla as celebrate Christmas. Black Mass maybe.

‘Good,’ Nightingale said.

Flynn said, ‘Putting writing on the side of a mug takes specialist equipment. How’s that lead going?’

‘We’re following up with businesses who do digital printing but we’re not optimistic. There are thirty who can do it in Cumbria alone, and if you include UK-wide mail order businesses and people who’ve bought home kits, the numbers are six figures.’

Poe had guessed as much.

‘The A4 pages he leaves with the fingers are curious,’ Nightingale said. ‘When we processed them the tech noticed that a different printer had been used for the note left at each scene. Apparently each printer drum has flaws as unique as fingerprints.’

‘That’s odd,’ Flynn said.

‘Unless he’s using printers in libraries and internet cafés. Making sure he never goes to the same place twice,’ Poe said. ‘Might be worth checking their CCTV.’

‘Already on it,’ Nightingale said.

They discussed it for a while longer. It was clear Nightingale had hit the ‘golden hour’ hard and was conducting a thorough and intrusive investigation. She’d got in early and had ensured that evidence wasn’t compromised, lost or destroyed, witnesses hadn’t yet drifted off and there’d been no time for alibis to be constructed. Her primary role was to develop lines of enquiry for her team to follow. It was a responsibility that Poe had never sought – the wrong decision could waste hundreds of investigative hours – but he knew when it was being done well. Nightingale knew what she was doing.

‘What do you want from us, ma’am?’ Flynn asked.

‘Large investigations move at the speed of logistics,’ Nightingale replied. ‘And that’s how they should. It’s how everything gets done. But with this I think I’d also like a smaller, independent investigation running parallel to the main one. It can be reactive, maybe even proactive, in the way that the main one can’t.’

She turned to face Poe.

‘Would I be right in saying that a Venn diagram of the people you know and the people you’ve upset would closely intersect?’

Flynn snorted. ‘A Venn diagram of the people Poe knows and the people he’s upset would be a fucking circle.’

‘Ha ha,’ Poe said.

Nightingale smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Sergeant … look, can I call you Poe? Everyone else seems to.’

‘Poe’s fine.’

‘Someone like you, with no ties to the investigation, with no real worries about upsetting the political hierarchy, could be invaluable. If you’re OK with it, DI Flynn, I’d like SCAS to work independently. You’ll report directly to me and if you need support I’ll arrange it.’

‘Suits me,’ Flynn replied. ‘And I know it suits Poe. Upsetting the political hierarchy is his particular area of expertise.’

Chapter 5

‘Poe, darling,’ Estelle Doyle said. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve found some online mistletoe?’

‘Er … no,’ Poe replied. ‘No mistletoe here … only cold weather.’

In the grim world of forensic pathology, Estelle Doyle was, as Bradshaw would have described her, an outlier. Even in the mortuary she dressed like she was off to an S & M club. Black hair and even blacker makeup. Fishnet stockings and stilettos. More tattoos than David Beckham, lip gloss redder than arterial blood. Poe found her extraordinarily beautiful and utterly terrifying. But she was unrivalled in her field and that was enough for him to keep going back to her lair.

Pathology was only part of her expertise. All forensic disciplines came naturally to her and she divided her time between forensic pathology, forensic science and lecturing.

And for some reason she had a soft spot for him. Poe didn’t know why. Her contempt for police officers was never understated, but with him she would find the time to make sure he understood everything. Earlier in the year, she’d said it was because he was the perennial underdog and that he had Capraesque qualities. Poe had been too scared to ask what she meant.

Doyle paused and Poe forgot to fill the silence.