The team members nodded. They all knew that Helen was considering releasing Gary Spence on police bail, pending further investigations.
“Denise’s son confirmed that she was expecting male company that night,” Helen continued. “There were two pizza boxes and an empty bottle of wine in a Tesco’s bag in the outside bin. The receipt in the bag suggests she bought these items yesterday, so let’s assume for now he showed up as planned.”
“Are we sure he didn’t just have his dinner and go?” Charlie asked.
“No, we’re not, but, according to Callum, Denise liked to have someone to warm her bed and was very accommodating in that regard.”
A few wry smiles from the team, but Helen pressed on.
“DC Brooks and DC Lucas will run with this,” she said, turning to Charlie. “Corral as many uniforms as you can and find out if anyone saw this man last night. I want people on the street within the hour, okay?”
Charlie nodded, catching Lucas doing likewise out of the corner of her eye. Lucas was a young fast-streamer who appeared to have had a sense-of-humor bypass at birth. Great company for the arduous task that lay ahead.
“DC McAndrew will look a little deeper into Denise’s private life.She is rumored to have had a few boyfriends who came and went. I want to know who they are and where they were last night.”
“Could this guy have any connection to the Millbrook house fire?” DS Sanderson asked. “We know Thomas Simms was working all the hours God sent. Perhaps his wife got lonely and sought other company. Perhaps she and Denise shared a lover? Maybe they thought better of it eventually, kicked him out—”
“We’d be stupid to rule anything out at this stage, so check it out, but do ittactfully.If we can find a connection between the two principal victims—Karen Simms and Denise Roberts—then we’re halfway toward identifying the perpetrator. In the meantime, let’s think about other possibilities.”
Immediately DC Edwards piped up. “The MO seems to be identical. Two diversionary fires to tie up the emergency services, then an attack on a residential property. Very calculated, very precise.”
“But in a very different part of town,” DC McAndrew added. “Millbrook is aspirational, lower-middle class and upward. Denise’s housing estate in Bevois Mount isn’t. High unemployment and crime rates, people living off benefits and the black market, very little spare cash to throw around.”
“So is there a financial motive?” Lucas asked. “Thomas Simms could certainly do with the insurance money and I presume Denise Roberts could too.”
“Denise Roberts let her home insurance lapse some time ago,” Sanderson said quickly. “And the attacks seemed designed to kill, so I think we can rule that out.”
“Perhaps there is no connection, then,” DC Lucas returned a little tartly. “Perhaps our arsonist is showing us that he can strike whenever and wherever he likes.”
It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but Helen knew Lucas might be right.
“We have to consider that possibility,” Helen responded. “There’s no evidence suggesting these fires were started to conceal a previous crime or to profit financially. They could be personally motivated against the victims, but, equally, they could be random acts of arson whose significance lies in the feelings they afford the arsonist. A sexual charge, a God complex, a desire to expel anxiety, to exert control: there are many different ways in which arson can satisfy.”
Helen had done plenty of academic research on serial offenders during her time in the States, and she would now bring her knowledge to the fore in their hunt for a homegrown offender. She pulled up the bullet-point profile on the screen.
“Your typical arsonist is white and male—over ninety percent of all arson-related crimes are committed by Caucasian men. He is normally aged between twenty-one and thirty-five, unemployed or in a badly paid job, with low self-esteem and few prospects. He is very likely to exhibit paranoia and is quick to take offense. He may be living at home or in a shared, hostel-type accommodation, or might even be homeless. Often the choice of the fire site relates to a desire to strike at authority figures, at people or institutions that have wronged them. That doesn’t seem to be the case here, but we ought to be alive to the possibility.”
Several of the team nodded—they seemed to be hanging on Helen’s every word.
“Our perpetrator is obviously feeling confident, having committed major acts of arson on consecutive nights. He is clearly not panicked by Karen Simms’s death—he hasn’t contacted any media outlets expressing remorse for his actions. He may even be enjoying himself. A large percentage of arsonists try to insert themselves into the narratives of their crime, so let’s compare all the footage from last night’s fire with that from the night before. See if there’s anyone present on both nights who’s making themselves especially visible, trying to help in the rescue effort, playing the hero, what have you. It may be theywere tucked up safely in bed by the time the fire reached its peak, but somehow I doubt it.”
Helen was in her element now—this was why people were queuing up to join her team.
“Let’s keep an eye out for self-aggrandizing statements on social media, the Internet. Also anyone talking repeatedly to journalists or the TV. But let’s not forget about the basics too. Many a killer has been caught through mundane slipups. So talk to local businesses—find out if anyone has been stockpiling paraffin or washing smoke-damaged clothes in the launderette. Any unusual behavior or tiny changes in someone’s routine could be significant, so remember to ask the small questions as well as the big ones.”
More nods from the team.
“Admin support has run off printouts of the best CCTV image we have of our fleeing male, complete with time code, so get out there and jog some memories. You can’t commit crimes of this scale and just vanish into thin air. So let’s find someone who saw our perpetrator.”
Within five minutes, the incident room was clear. As Helen strode out herself, shutting the door, she felt a quiet surge of satisfaction. The hunt was on.
44
All around him people were screaming and crying. “There’s someone in there! There’s someone in there!” a woman shrieked nearby, as if the repetition of the bloody obvious could somehow affect the rescue. Satisfyingly her bleating was suddenly cut short by a huge boom, as the front bedroom flashed over, blasting the main window from its casing and sending hot splinters of glass flying toward the crowd. Many present now turned and ran, bumping into him and disturbing his framing. That had pissed him off. Up until then, his recording had been perfect.
Watching the footage from last night’s fires was proving to be a pleasurable experience. He had over an hour’s worth of material from each fire, and over time he would edit it into tight, dramatic narratives. But for now he was content to enjoy the raw, uncut recordings.
He had had a busy night, so could afford himself a little R & R now. He’d returned home just after midnight and, having changed his clothes and picked up the camera, gone straight out again. Meticulousas always, he visited the sites in order, culminating with the smoking house in Bevois Mount. He had lingered there the longest, drinking in the reactions of the shocked neighbors, enjoying the moment.
