Free Never Somewhere Else by Alex Gray

anywhere.’ Lorimer’s mouth hardened. ‘Our psychologist working on the case believes we may provoke our man into making a call himself, if there is no mention of him during the update.’
    Nick Ross’s eyebrows rose. A psychologist had not been mentioned by this Chief Inspector from north of the border. That
would
have given extra spice to the programme. A frown of irritation passed over the presenter’s face, the only sign Lorimer had of his displeasure. Somehow it made him feel guilty, as if he had no right to conceal any aspect of this case.
    Solomon was right. Attwenty past midnight the switchboard registered the call.

C HAPTER 11

    S olomon was late.One of his third-year students, an earnest Scandinavian who towered over him, had sought his approval about the research techniques needed for his dissertation. Calmly, Solly had reassured the young man, pointing out the best ways to obtain the data he required. As a result it was twenty-five past four before he emerged from the building into University Avenue and looked up and down for a taxi.
    Beneath his placid appearance he was experiencing some excitement. Chief Inspector Lorimer would be waiting, probably with justified impatience, for this meeting. Solly knew that his credibility was on the ascendant since the murderer’s phone call. Now he had to capitalise on that.
    At last a taxi appeared over the brow of the hill, its FOR HIRE sign blazing orange. Solly gave his destination and settled back to think.
    ‘I’m sorry, Chief Inspector. Dr Brightman appears to have left. Can I take a message?’
    Lorimer resisted the temptation to be rude. The secretary at the Department of Psychology was undeserving of the brunt of his temper. He’d save it for Dr Brightman.
    ‘No, thank you.I expect he’s on his way.’
    Lorimer put down the receiver. Since yesterday everything seemed to have changed. It was like looking through field glasses and adjusting the focus. Certain areas now came sharply into view, others remained hazily in the background. One thing was certain, and that was the way that the killer had played into their hands. Well, to be fair, into the hands of Solomon Brightman. Lorimer had spent quite a lot of the night reconsidering the psychologist’s ability to make an impact on this case. Even now a copy of Canter’s treatise lay in his desk drawer. He had been impressed in spite of himself, even from the little he had begun to read.
    A rat-a-tat was knocked on his door and Solly’s bearded face peeped round. His habitual smile was sheepish.
    ‘Chief Inspector.’
    ‘Dr Brightman.’
    ‘I’m sorry for the delay.’
    ‘Well, now you’re here, let’s get down to business.’
    Solly sat by the window and unbuckled his battered, soft-hide briefcase. He glanced up and gave a shy smile, as if he were about to offer a explanation for his lateness.
    ‘You have the recording?’ he said instead.
    ‘Of course. Do you want to hear it now or would you rather discuss … whatever it is you’re so anxious to tell me?’
    Lorimer did not try to disguise the sarcasm in his voice. Immediately he was annoyed with himself and wondered how to counter the resentment that this mild-mannered young man provoked in him. Their working relationship had to improve, he thought, or rather his own attitude to it.
    ‘I’ll come straight to the point.’ Solly crossed his legs and leaned forward slightly. ‘Why was there no rape?’
    Lorimer stared at thepsychologist for a moment before answering.
    ‘But there isn’t always a sexual motive in serial killings.’
    The dark head of the psychologist nodded up and down and the huge eyes peered owlishly from behind the tortoiseshell spectacles. He took a cursory glance at the notes he had extracted from his briefcase.
    ‘I’m concerned that there is no evidence of any sexual motive. Unless this man is simply a fetishist – and I don’t believe he is – there should have been signs of sexual activity. The crimes point to