The Night Stalker (Detective Erika Foster 2)

‘You don’t seem pleased?’

‘I’ll be pleased when we catch whoever did this,’ said Erika. ‘Tim didn’t really tell us anything we don’t know already. Although the whole thing about alpha males is an interesting theory. But how do we put that to good use? It’s so broad. We can’t put every aggressive dominant male under surveillance. The world is full of them.’

Marsh rolled his eyes. ‘You could do yourself a favour by trying to build bridges with Oakley.’

‘I didn’t pull him up on his homophobic attitude, that’s a start. And anyway, what’s the point? He’s never going to like me, sir. I’m never going to be on his Christmas card list.’

They had reached the landing for Marsh’s office. ‘Keep me in the loop, okay?’ he said, as he made to go through the double doors.

‘Before you go, sir, any more news about the superintendent post up for grabs?’

Marsh stopped and turned back to face her.

‘I’ve already said I’ll be putting you forward, Erika.’

‘Have you informed Oakley that you intend to put me forward?’

‘Yes.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘I can’t go into details about the process, you know that. Now, I have to go.’ Marsh turned to go back through the doors.

‘One more thing, sir. What’s happening with Peter Munro living under the same roof as Gary Wilmslow? I’m concerned for his welfare.’

Marsh stopped and turned back.

‘For the past week, Peter has only left the house with his mother to go to school. We have several of the rooms inside bugged. As far as we know, he’s fine. And Gary Wilmslow is old-school working class. He talks about honour and family and all that. He wouldn’t let anyone touch one of his own.’

‘You’ve been watching too much Eastenders, sir. Let’s hope you’re right.’

‘I am right,’ said Marsh, icily, and disappeared though the double doors to his office.

‘I seem to be so popular with everyone. All I’m trying to do is my bloody job,’ Erika muttered to herself, as she carried on down the flights of stairs.

When she reached the incident room, the ceiling fans were working overtime, but they only seemed to be circulating the heat and the smells of coffee and body odour.

‘Boss, I’ve just heard from uniform division; the neighbours living opposite Gregory Munro’s house are back from holiday,’ said Peterson, putting down his phone.

Moss was sitting opposite Peterson, her face red from the heat as she came off a call. ‘That was Estelle Munro. She says that Gregory Munro’s General Medical Council certificate is missing from 14 Laurel Road.’

‘When did we hand the house back to the family?’ asked Erika.

‘Yesterday. I’ve been through the forensics log, and everything we took away. There is no mention of a GMC certificate.’

‘Which means the killer could have taken it. Shit. How could we have missed this?’

20

When Erika, Moss and Peterson arrived at Laurel Road, it was balmy and quiet. The sun had sunk down far enough so that the houses on Gregory Munro’s side were in the shade.

A cluster of men and women in office clothes rounded the end of the road with flushed faces, the men with their sleeves rolled up, carrying their jackets. It was just after five-thirty and Erika realised this was the first wave of commuters returning from work in Central London.

She rang the bell at number 14. Moments later, Estelle Munro opened the door. She was dressed in pale slacks, a smart white blouse covered in a pattern of roses, and a pair of yellow Marigolds.

‘Hello, Mrs Munro. We’re here about the medical certificate,’ said Erika.

‘Yes,’ was all she said. She stepped back and they filed in. Erika recognised the zesty, lemony smell of cleaning products, which mingled with an overpowering scent of synthetic blossom. It was, however, cool inside the house. The windows were all shut and the air conditioning hummed throughout.

‘It was in Gregory’s office,’ said Estelle, closing the front door and locking it. Erika noticed she’d had the locks changed: a gleaming new Yale and two new bolts.

They followed Estelle up the stairs, moving slowly behind her as she breathed heavily.

‘How are things?’ asked Erika.

‘I’m still cleaning up the mess your lot left,’ Estelle snapped.

‘We do try to treat the crime scene with as much respect as we can, but a great number of people are involved, all coming into the property at once,’ said Moss.