Beneath The Skin

I washed my face in warm and cold water and then embarked on the most disgusting washing-up of my life, and I’m speaking as someone who shared a house with a girl and two boys at college. The activity made me feel steadier. I was able to walk back to the table and close the photograph album without looking at it.

I didn’t have much time. I would have to be selective. I rummaged through the files quickly, checking their contents. I saw plans of Zoe’s flat and Je

I paid a little more attention to the pathologist’s reports on the two dead women. Zoe’s was much simpler: ligature strangulation with the belt of her dressing gown. There were some minor contusions, but these were only related to the force required to hold her down while she was strangled. Vaginal and anal swabs showed no sign of sexual assault.

The report on Je

There was a fat file dealing with the analysis of the letters. They included photocopies of the letters sent to Zoe and Je

There were files of crime-scene reports on dust and fabric and hair and much else. Many of them were so technical that I couldn’t work out whether anything significant had been found. It didn’t look like it. There was a single-page summary report at the front, which was copied to Links, Cameron, and other members of the murder inquiry. What was clearly stated was that no significant links had been found among the forensic traces recovered from the two murder scenes. The hair and fiber samples found on the clothes that the dead Zoe was wearing, and also found on the carpet, bedclothes, and other items of clothing, were only those of the recent inhabitants of the flat: namely her boyfriend, Fred, and Zoe herself. The hair and fiber analysis of the Je

I also read through a bundle of internal memos, which outlined the various stages of the inquiry, including the result of an informal internal inquiry that was marked “Most Secret.” It was there I learned that Je

Just as I was about to call Cameron back I started flicking through a routine-looking file. It consisted of rosters, minutes of meetings, holiday assignments. But then at the bottom a photocopied memo caught my eye. It was from Links to a Dr. Michael Griffen, with copies to Stadler, Grace Schilling, Ly

I will make every effort to ensure that the scene of any future scene will be swiftly and effectively sealed. I realize that in all probability, and in no small part because of the practical difficulties of personal protection, the solution of this case will lie in the hands of the forensic scientists and we will furnish you with all possible cooperation.

I shouted for Cameron and he was in the room in a few seconds. Had he been watching through the window? What did it matter?

“Look,” I said, handing him the note. “ ‘Any future scene.’ Not exactly a vote of confidence in your own abilities.”

He looked at it, then replaced it in the file.

“You asked to see the files,” he said. “Obviously we have to plan for every eventuality.”

“Maybe it looks different from where I’m standing,” I said. “That’s me: any future scene. Me.”

“So what did you think?”

“It was horrible,” I said. “And I’m glad I know.”

Cameron started gathering up the files, putting them in boxes, cramming them into the briefcases.

“We’re not very alike,” I said.

He paused.

“What?”

“I thought we’d all be the same type. I know it’s hard to tell from photos and a few particulars, but we seem completely different. Zoe was younger, sweeter than me, I bet. Also, she had a real job. And as for Je

“Maybe not,” said Stadler wistfully, and at that moment I felt a stab of jealousy. He’d seen her, talked to her. He knew what her voice sounded like. He had seen her fu

“You’re all small,” he said.

“What?”

“You’re all short and light,” he said. “And you live in north London.”

“So that’s where you’ve got to,” I said. “Nearly six weeks and two women dead and you know that this murderer doesn’t choose six-foot bodybuilders and he doesn’t choose women who live randomly all over the world.”

He was finished packing up.

“I’ve got to go,” he said. “Ly

“Cameron?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t tell your wife, or Links or anyone.”

“Good.”

“But I would have done.”

“That’s what I thought.”

We were both acting a bit embarrassed with each other now. For me it was that embarrassment of being with someone who you’ve been naked with and now don’t fancy in the very least. Added to it was a very strong feeling that all I wanted to do was retreat into my bedroom and cry and think about dying for a few hours.

“Nadia?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry about everything. It has all been so… so.” He stopped and rubbed his face, then looked around as if he thought Ly

“What?” I could tell from the tone of his voice that it wasn’t good news.

He reached inside his jacket and took out a paper. In fact it was two sheets of paper. He unfolded them and flattened them on the table.

“We intercepted these in the last few days.”

“How?”

“One was sent as a letter. I think the other was pushed through the door.”