Devil in the Detail by A.J. Cross (love letters to the dead .TXT) 📗

leaving her. ‘He stays here sometimes but I haven’t seen him much lately. I know one place he sometimes stays.’

Watts left the building, Lettie’s wrath still in his ears. He took out his phone, rang Brophy and told him about the visit. ‘Huey Whyte had a bit of a rep for guns and drugs a decade or so back, so I’m leery of sending unarmed officers to search for him at the address his sister says he sometimes uses, but it needs checking. If Whyte is there, we’ll need to consider an armed response—’

He moved the phone away from his ear as Brophy erupted.

Back at headquarters, he found Judd in his office. Taking out his notebook, he opened it and placed it next to her. She looked down at the neat writing, then grinned up at him.

‘Finally! A lead.’

‘Possibly …’

They looked up as the door opened and a tall, blond-haired, twenty-something male in a leather jacket, jeans and boots leant inside the room.

‘Hi, Bernie. Or, should that be, ‘Detective Inspector Ber-nard Watts?’

Judd watched as Watts slowly headed towards him, his arms stretched wide.

‘I don’t bloody believe it. Are you a sight for sore eyes!’ He grasped the visitor’s upper arms. ‘Where’d you get these shoulders?’

The man laughed and clapped Watts on the back. ‘It’s great to see you, Bernie. How’s things?’

‘Good, good. Come on in, Jules.’ He pointed across the room. ‘This is PC Chloe Judd. Judd, this is’ – he grinned – ‘Doctor Julian Devenish. We used to work together when this room was the Unsolved Crime Unit. He was a skinny student back then. One of Kate Hanson’s.’

Judd watched the visitor remove his jacket, absorbing the lean, wiry physique, the attractive, open face, the white, even teeth, the curve of his mouth, the—

‘Hi, Chloe. How’s it going for you?’

‘OK, thanks.’

‘Take my word for it, Judd is usually your chatty type.’ Watts pointed to a place high on one wall. ‘Remember that from one of our earliest cold cases?’

Devenish looked to where he was pointing at black, scripted words and read them aloud,

‘“Let justice roll down”.’ He shook his head and looked at Watts. ‘I remember. I learned such a lot here. They were great days. I hear you’re heading a major investigation as SIO. Congratulations.’

‘They’re all upstairs in the incident room, the squad room as was. We’ve got a double shooting. William Traynor the criminologist is working on it with us. You know him?’

Devenish nodded. ‘By professional reputation, yes. He’s very highly regarded.’

‘I’ll get some coffee going—’

‘I’ll do it!’

Judd was already halfway to the kettle, Devenish following. ‘Can I give you a hand, Chloe?’

Surprised by Judd’s keenness to get coffee going, Watts watched, picking up unexpected hints of shyness, very contrary to the confidence she routinely showed around the male officers here. They returned to the table with mugs of coffee. Watts reached for one, his attention on Devenish.

‘Last I heard you were lecturing in Manchester and “helping police with their enquiries”.’

Devenish’s quick grin faded. ‘For the last six months, I’ve been assisting the force there with a series of disappearances.’ Seeing Watts waiting, he added, ‘The so-called “Phantom”.’

‘Wow,’ Judd breathed.

‘The name comes courtesy of some tabloid hack, but it about sums up what he is.’

Judd gazed at him. ‘I’ve seen it reported on the news. I can’t believe you’re actually part of that. What are you doing?’

‘Chloe Judd is back in the room,’ observed Watts.

Devenish swallowed some coffee. ‘Evaluating witness statements, such as they are. Trying to construct a suspect profile from next to nothing.’

‘It sounds dead exciting.’

With a glance at Watts, he smiled at her. ‘I’m not so sure it feels like that, Chloe. The pressure’s relentless. I’m here because I requested a few days’ break. To get away from it.’

Watts was recalling the spindly eighteen-year-old cutting his forensic teeth on cases in this very room, now seeing how much that youngster and time had moved on. Devenish must be, what, twenty-five now? ‘The investigation isn’t progressing?’

Devenish shook his head. ‘It’s a huge, dedicated team but, just within these walls, it’s overwhelmed by what’s happening up there. Five disappearances during the last two years.’

‘No leads?’

‘Nothing. It took months for the police to decide they were even connected. Three of them were students, all females in their twenties. The media is going nuts, as is the general population and all we’ve got is a single, possible sighting of a dark-haired male moving along the same road as one of the victims. That’s it. It’s like being inside a pressure cooker, trying to make progress yet nothing solid to work with.’

Watts gave him a closer look, now seeing evidence of what he was hearing on the young face. ‘How long are you here for?’

‘Ten days, max, after which I’d like to just get back to my lecturing job, but that won’t happen. My assisting the investigation brings the university’s psychology department a lot of research kudos. So, I’ll be back in the boiler room. At least, that’s how it feels.’ He raised his coffee mug to Watts. ‘I was sorry to hear Maurice Gander died. He was a good guy.’ He sipped. ‘It’s great being down here, touching base with everybody who’s still around.’

‘Make the most of your time here. Don’t let Manchester work you into the ground.’

Devenish grinned across at him. ‘Same old Bernard. You don’t know how good it feels being here, even for a few days.’

‘You’re here to relax?’

‘That was the plan, but I dropped into the university earlier and the head of psychology practically begged me to do some emergency lecturing to cover staff on sick leave. I said yes. It’s just a few hours with the undergrads and a real déjà vu for me. I love Birmingham’s campus. Manchester feels like it’s under siege. The Ripper Inquiry still casts a shadow, all these years later.’

‘I bet it does,’ murmured Watts.

Judd’s eyes were fixed on Devenish. ‘No leads at all? No forensics?’

Watts sighed. ‘Whatever he knows, he probably won’t tell you.’

Judd gave him a