Free All My Enemies by Barry Maitland

may well have to give evidence about this in court, under oath, Warwick. And the other people at the party you were at on Saturday night may have to do the same, to confirm the time you left. Now, you see how serious this is? I can give you this one last chance to revise your earlier statement, if there are any inaccuracies in it, and there’ll be no more said. All right?”
    He nodded.
    “Well?”
    “It was later.”
    “Yes. How much later?”
    “It was after one o’clock.”
    “How much after?”
    “Probably about 1:45. I’m not sure exactly.” He looked at Kathyin appeal. “I couldn’t tell them the truth before, not with Mum and Dad there watching me. They go on and on about their stupid rules. I didn’t think it mattered much anyway.”
    Kathy nodded. “Anything else you want to change?”
    He shook his head. “No, honest. There were no lights, and I didn’t hear anything. I came in through our back door, with the key they leave under the flower pot for me, and I’d have noticed if there’d have been any lights on next door at that time. Honest.”
     
    “ WELL, THAT CLEARS UP that little difficulty,” Brock said.
    “Yes,” Kathy nodded. “And Mr. Hannaford asked me to ask you if you would go in person and explain what we’re doing.”
    Brock raised his eyebrow at her.
    “He’s very angry and wants to have a go at someone. He wondered why we hadn’t rounded up all the perverts in London for questioning.”
    “Good idea. Book Wembley Stadium for me, will you, Kathy?” Brock gave a low growl and tilted back in his seat, scratching his beard. “No, he’s right, of course. I’m damn sure this mongrel’s done something before that we know about. Maybe he didn’t go as far as murder, but it was so . . . elaborate, and ritualistic, as if he was working to a script he’d thought very carefully about and probably rehearsed. I can’t believe this was his first time. He must have worked himself up to this, through a series of stages, most likely.”
    “Isn’t it possible that it was all just fantasy up to this point?” Kathy suggested. “Maybe borrowed from books, or films? Trying to cut off her face, for instance. It seems to make no sense, unless he was copying something.”
    “Like what?”
    “Well, that was in
The Silence of the Lambs
, wasn’t it, and in
Gorky Park
? Especially
Gorky Park
. Cutting off the victim’s face was a big thing.”
    “Was it?” Brock curled his lip in distaste. “I’m thankful I didn’t see either of them. And where would that take us?”
    “I don’t know,” Kathy shrugged. “That he saw himself as Hannibal Lecter, perhaps, or Lee Marvin.”
    Brock grunted, obviously unconvinced. “Well, at any rate, we’ve got to find the precedents, whatever they are, in the ocean of unsolved murders, assaults, rapes, and missing persons. The most promising so far is a murder/rape in a park about five miles from here, three months ago. Nothing quite like what we’ve got. But it wouldn’t be the same, necessarily. It would be the step that led to this, and the step before that. A question of knowing what to look for . . . recognizing it when we see it.”
    “I’d like to help look.”
    “You want an indoor job for a while?” Brock glanced up at her from under his thick eyebrows.
    Kathy shrugged and nodded. Her encounter with Hannaford had unsettled her; not his anger, which was understandable, but the unexpected sense of elation that his powerlessness had given her. He could do absolutely nothing to catch his daughter’s killer, whereas she might. He was dependent on her, and he knew this and hated it, just as she relished it. Afterwards she had felt ashamed.
    “Well, how about the Sexual Assault Index? You’re familiar with that?”
    Kathy nodded.
    “You can access it from the computer here. You might want to go up to the Forensic Science Laboratory at Lambeth too. They may have additional stuff they haven’t put on to the computer record. Have you