The Night Stalker - Page 70/118

‘Do you want some more champagne, Stevie?’ asked Isaac.

‘You mean from the champagne in the ice bucket, with the white cloth around its neck?’ asked Stephen, looking up from where he lay on Isaac’s chest.

‘What’s wrong with doing things properly?’ Isaac murmured, planting a kiss on Stephen’s forehead.

‘I don’t know anyone else who serves champagne at home as if they’re having it in a restaurant,’ laughed Stephen. He shifted over so Isaac could get up. ‘And where did you get that?’ asked Stephen, holding out his glass and pointing to the ice bucket, which was perched on a metal stand beside the sofa.

‘The Lakeland catalogue,’ said Isaac, lifting the bottle out with a clink of ice and topping up their glasses.

‘And the stand?’

‘That’s from the mortuary. I normally keep the bone saw on it, and my scalpels… I thought it appropriately macabre to use it to celebrate your new book.’

‘Mr Strait-laced stole from work! I’m honoured,’ said Stephen, taking a sip of the crisp, cold champagne. Isaac came back and went to lie on the sofa. A timer went off in the kitchen and he got back up to turn it off.

‘Not another course?’ groaned Stephen.

‘No, I set it because Crimewatch is on.’

‘Bloody hell. Not your awful copper friend with the blunt manner… and the blunt bob.’

‘Erika doesn’t have a blunt manner. Or a blunt bob.’

‘Well, that hair is certainly utilitarian. Is she a lesbian?’

Isaac sighed. ‘No, she was married, I told you… She’s a widow.’

‘Topped himself, did he?’

‘He was killed in the line of duty…’

‘Oh yes,’ said Stephen taking another gulp of champagne. ‘I remember now, the drug raid. She was responsible for his death and for the deaths of four other members of her team… You know, that would make a good plot.’

‘Stephen, you’re being cruel. And I don’t like it.’

‘This is what you signed up for,’ grinned Stephen. ‘I’m a brutal bitch… Anyway, I’d change her name.’

‘You are not putting that in a book… And we’re watching Crimewatch. This is a case I worked on. I have a professional interest, as well as a personal one.’

Isaac grabbed the remote and turned on the television. The opening credits of Crimewatch began.

‘So, it’s a double murder, a serial killer. Yeah?’

‘Yes.’

‘That was a shocker. Jack Hart, wasn’t it?’ said Stephen.

‘Shhh!’ hissed Isaac. They watched in silence as the case was introduced by the Crimewatch presenter.

‘The first victim was Dr Gregory Munro, a GP from Honor Oak Park in South London. He was last seen returning home from work around 7 p.m. on June the 27th…’

The actor playing Gregory on the screen walked up to the house in Laurel Road. It was still daylight, and a group of small children were playing jump with a skipping rope in the street.

‘That’s not accurate. Who lets their kids play out in the street these days?’ started Stephen, sipping his champagne. ‘They’re all on lock-down. Parents keep them indoors where they sit on their computers and phones… And what’s the number one way child abusers get to children? They groom them online, it’s crazy…’

‘Shush,’ said Isaac.

On the screen, the young actress was dressed in black and walking along a stretch of darkened scrub path behind the house. The camera cut to a close-up of her face as it was lit by the train clattering past on the track behind.

‘She’s very pretty,’ said Isaac.

‘Quite elfin,’ agreed Stephen. ‘They really think it’s a woman? She’s no more than a slip of a girl…’

The screen cut to a view of the back of the house from where the girl stood on the path. Her hand reached up and pulled the branch of a tree down, and they saw the actor playing Gregory Munro moving around in his kitchen. The girl then pulled a black running hood over her face and ducked down, crawling through the fence and into the garden.

‘How do they know all this?’ asked Stephen.

‘I can’t discuss the case with you,’ said Isaac. ‘You know that.’

‘We’re watching it on BBC One with millions of other saddos on a Friday night. I think the cat’s out of the bag,’ said Stephen, rolling his eyes. ‘Come on, let’s stick on some porn and I’ll let you fuck me. I’m slutty drunk…’