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‘It looks like carbon, Professor Estelle Doyle.’

The pathologist nodded. ‘We’ll confirm when the sample’s back from the lab but I’m fairly certain it’s industrial diamond dust.’

‘Where did you find it?’ Poe asked.

‘Embedded in the neck wound.’

‘Shit.’

Poe had heard about wire impregnated with diamond dust being used as garrottes but he’d never expected to see it in a case he was investigating. Eastern Bloc special forces were rumoured to use them. In theory, if their intended victim somehow managed to get some fingers between the garrotte and their neck, the killer could move his hands backwards and forwards and saw through them.

Garrottes couldn’t easily be bought on the internet but wire embedded with industrial diamond dust was available in any hardware store. Garrottes were easy to make and they were the perfect weapon. Easy to explain, even easier to conceal. It could be wrapped around the wrist like a friendship bracelet or kept in a toolbox without arousing suspicion. Poe had even heard about one being used to hang a painting. All it needed to transform it into a deadly weapon was a couple of handles. The toggle buttons used on duffel coats were ideal.

Doyle talked them through a couple of minor points and promised to have her preliminary report with Nightingale by midnight. The full report would be available when the lab results were back.

When they were ready to go, Doyle approached the viewing area.

‘Be careful with this one, Poe,’ she said.

‘I will.’

She removed her safety goggles and fixed him with an intense look. ‘I’m serious, Poe. This man’s not a street fighter; he’s a stone-cold killer.’

‘I said I will.’

Doyle shook her head. ‘You won’t. You’ll try and do it yourself and, while that’s worked for you in the past, it won’t this time. Not with this man.’

She addressed Bradshaw.

‘Miss Bradshaw, I’d be very grateful if you could curb Poe’s baser instincts on this. When you do find him, remind Poe that calling in the men with guns isn’t a sign of weakness.’

Bradshaw looked worried. ‘I’ll call them myself, Professor Estelle Doyle. Even if Poe tells me not to.’

Doyle nodded. ‘Thank you.’

She turned back to Poe.

‘But … if you do happen to come up against him, you find yourself a weapon of convenience and you put him down. You don’t warn him and you don’t try and play fair. He won’t with you, Poe.’

‘It’s not like you to get spooked, Estelle. What’s up?’

She smiled at him sadly. ‘Alas, Poe, there are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told.’

‘What was all that gothic stuff about?’ Poe said as they walked back to the car. ‘She’s not usually like that.’

‘I’ve just checked,’ Bradshaw

replied, reading from her phone, ‘and that was an Edgar Allan Poe quote she said at the end. It’s from “The Man of the Crowd”.’

Poe frowned. That had all been very strange.

Chapter 27

They made it back to Carleton Hall in time for the final briefing of the day. They found a seat at the back next to Flynn. Nightingale had drafted in almost two hundred officers and the incident room was hot and humid and smelly. Poe grabbed a half-empty carton of curry and sniffed it. It was a dhansak. All the meat had been eaten. He spooned down the cold, spicy lentils anyway.

Bradshaw glared at him.

‘It helps my sore throat,’ he lied.