Free Cleanskin by Val McDermid Page A

walking away from one of the best Chinese takeaways in London.
    I followed her through to the space under the stairs that she’d converted into a study. She sat down at the computer, which she left running twenty-four seven in spite of my warnings about ID theft and hackers. She made her way to a private site for forensic experts who specialize in figuring out ways to identify bodies. She glanced up at me. ‘Could you get me my wine, please?’
    By the time I got back, she was swapping instant messages with a colleague.
    DrStel : That’s right. Tattoo removal.
    JPB : Laser or surgery?
    DrStel : Doesn’t matter. Any kind. What matters is where. Got to be Calais area.
    JPB : Gimme 5.
    ‘Who’s JPB?’ I asked, setting her drink down beside the keyboard.
    She took a sip then said, ‘A skin man in Paris. I worked with him in Kosovo. He’s the one who taught me about tattoos.’ Before she could saymore, the computer beeped. JPB had come up with a couple of addresses of clinics in the right area.
    JPB : The one in Calais is more of a general clinic. The other is more expert with tattoo work. I met the clinic director in Geneva, he was talking about a new cream they were using with the lasers to give a better result. This cream is their own formula. He thinks it will make them rich once they have proved how well it works. If I was having my tattoos removed in the north of France, I think this is where I would go.
    DrStel : Thanks, Jean-Paul. I’ll buy you a drink at EUBIC next month.
    Stella looked up at me with a grin. ‘I wondered why Manuela was in France. It didn’t seem to make sense unless she was there for Farrell. Which begged the question, why Calais? There are so many little places along the French coast where there would be much less chance of Farrell being spotted. There had to be a good reason.’
    I grinned. ‘Like, getting rid of a unique set oftattoos. Stella, you’re a better detective than me.’ I leaned down and kissed her. ‘But you’re also your own worst enemy. I’m going to have to go now and talk to the team about what we do next.’
    ‘Andy,’ she howled. ‘Surely it can wait till morning?’
    I held my hands up, fending her off. ‘I’m not taking any chances,’ I said, backing towards the front door. ‘Save me some dinner in case I make it back later.’
    I should have taken Stella’s idea straight to my boss and let him liaise with the French. But Jack Farrell was mine and I didn’t want him slipping through the net because some French cop who didn’t care enough was having a power nap at the wrong minute.
    I hand-picked four officers, and we went off to France on the Eurostar. Once we were there, we hired three cars. We started staking out the clinic in four-hour shifts, holing up between times in a lorry drivers’ motel off the nearby motorway.
    I had plenty of time to think about Katie Farrell’s murder. It had been more than a weeksince Ben had died, and there hadn’t been any more bodies. Plus his was the only murder marked out with a fire. To me, it seemed clear. Jack Farrell had tortured and murdered his way to the answer. Then he had sent a message to the rest of us with the fire that linked Ben’s death to Katie’s. Only a dad who loved his kids like Ben would know how much damage Katie’s murder would do. I didn’t know why he’d done it, but all my instincts as a cop said that he had.
    On the third day, we got lucky. Kirsty Blythe and her partner spotted Manuela dropping Farrell off at the side door of the clinic just before seven in the morning. She picked him up again two hours later. By then, all five of us were in place for a perfect tail.
    First we followed them to a private marina where they loaded some hypermarket plastic bags on board a good-sized floating gin palace. We couldn’t get inside without keys, but I got out the binoculars and made sure I knew which boat.
    Then we followed them about twenty miles into the countryside. There was no chance of