Cortese smiled broadly and bowed theatrically. Mahoney slapped him on the shoulder.

  ‘Nice one, Signor Cortez. I was a tad concerned but I think we’ll get along fine. Come into my office. We need to formalise your involvement.’

  Gibson turned to Kate with a bewildered look. ‘What was that all about? Am I missing something?’

  Kate smiled. ‘Just a bit of experience. The portrait Cortese gave us wasn’t for our perp. It’s a textbook one developed years ago by one of the first profilers to be taken seriously. Chap called Brussel who made startling observations about who the New York Bomber was in the 1950s. They eventually caught the guy through methodical policing and it turned out Brussel’s portrait was close to the mark. Once people realised it was logic and not magic, profiling was seen to be of help. Not voodoo.’

  ‘I’ve got a bit to learn,’ Gibson conceded.

  

  Once inside the compact office, Mahoney offered his visitor a seat and took his own on the other side of the desk. Cortese reached into the inside pocket of his linen jacket, extracted a business card and placed it on the desk.

  ‘My credentials, Inspector. As you can see I’ve studied the science here and abroad, most notably in the US. Presently, I am acting as a consultant for Victoria Police. My main line of work is in the academia, training officers as to the value of forensic psychology.’

  Mahoney studied the embossed card—not quite as many acronyms as a government directory but up there.

  ‘Ever considered private practice?’

  Cortese rolled his eyes. ‘Several years ago I did such work for a short time. The search for happiness is a quest that can wear one down. It seemed to me that many of my patients relished being unhappy. It gave them an excuse to harbour grudges and bemoan their perceived lack of success. Many actively worked against my proposals for them.’

  ‘Which were?’

  ‘Very generally, to be connected, to be open to love, and to have a project which fires your imagination.’

  No wonder I’m up the creek, thought Mahoney. Unless he labelled his investigations as projects.

  ‘Sounds like it’s easier said than done.’

  ‘No, it’s easily done. The trouble is, so many people don’t want to do it. You can simply have what you want by wanting what you have. Precious few people accept that increased lifespans already give them the greatest gift they could desire. And it’s free. We have universal education and healthcare, albeit not perfect models.’

  ‘I take it you’re referring to developed economies.’

  ‘Of course. There isn’t much call for psychologists in Eritrea. So many people there purely focus on staying alive.’ Cortese patted his pocket and took out a slim plastic cylinder. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Probably not. What is it?’

  ‘An electronic cigarette. Fulfils my chemical addiction without befouling the atmosphere. Not the ultimate solution, but we all have our little quirks.’ Cortese sucked lightly on one end and the other end of the six-inch tube glowed briefly. He then blew a small cloud towards the extractor fan in the ceiling.

  ‘I’ll take your word for it. As I will for any insights you can give me on this case.’ A small jerk of his head toward the door. ‘Your party trick was well done. My constable was all set to kiss your feet.’

  ‘Oh that. It was done more to test you.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘A quick way to gauge your attitude to my branch of detective work.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘You passed with aplomb. Madeleine told me of your record as an investigator. It is also heartening to know your knowledge of my area is sound. It leads me to believe you will afford my work its due credit, and such a thing is important.’

  ‘Agreed. I’ve got the odd dunderhead, but the vast majority out there recognise that expert help is needed. The more I collect from the crime scene, the more I appreciate how chilling the act was.’

  ‘Precisely. A most apposite word: chilling. That was also my impression from regarding the photos. It was a cold, calculated act of violence, not opportunistic rage. This, in itself, narrows the field.’

  ‘Good. That is what we were thinking already and Doctor Pitney nudged us further. I hope you can advance things again.’

  He took another puff and tilted his head to exhale upwards. ‘Will you be taking notes?’ Cortese glanced pointedly at the notepad on the desk. ‘It’s just that Madeleine led me to expect …’

  ‘… that I’m a pedantic pen-pusher who writes to help him comprehend information.’

  ‘Well, yes.’

  Cortese noticed the inspector’s smile.

  ‘Our man … I’m assuming you’re considering a male owing to the physicality of the act.’

  ‘Yes. Or a pair.’

  ‘No,’ Cortese’s voice was particularly decisive. ‘This is a solo act. I’ll get to that later. The killer is intelligent and well-educated, possibly tertiary level. By the way, Gibson told me about the electrician’s van. I trust you don’t mind his enthusiasm.’

  Mahoney did mind a bit—actually, quite a bit. His new man must become more aware of demarcations. A lot of the formal procedure had a point, but he’d have to let it ride for now.

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘One obvious point is that you will have little problem formulating a murder charge. Given the high degree of planning involved, it seems impossible not to accept pre-meditation. That level of planning reveals intelligence and an ordered mind.’

  ‘Mind? I’d hardly have thought his mental state to be orderly.’

  ‘On the contrary. His mind is extraordinarily so. The scheme was thoroughly researched and meticulously enacted. A clear level head. In his mind he is enforcing a sense of order upon the world. He believes he is fixing a problem. But let me get back to my progression. I don’t want to be overbearing, but if I lay it out first, any queries you have can come later.’

  Mahoney nodded; just be a scribe and allow the expert’s train of thought to choof along.

  ‘The surveillance of the property, the knowledge of the affair with Alice Cheung, awareness of Hellyer’s routine … all indicate a patient and painstaking approach. Above average intelligence. With regard to education, what is one characteristic that all university graduates must share?’

  ‘Capacity for hard work? Not sure.’

  ‘Deferred gratification. They appreciate that by making sacrifices of time, and by not seeking income immediately, they will prosper in the future.’

  ‘Less jam now, more jam tomorrow.’ A fleeting picture of Mahoney’s old Economics teacher came to him. Where did those former mentors end up?

  ‘Indubitably. They invest their efforts to be better off down the track. Some need to be very bright—psychologists for example—but not all.’

  If he hadn’t already, Mahoney was genuinely warming to the man opposite. Cortese was likeable. ‘Nice point. But plenty of crims plan, don’t they? Bank robbers are a prime example.’

  ‘Certainly. It isn’t just the intricacy of the short-term planning that alarms me though. The mis en scène at Opossum Bay is very disturbing. In the bludgeoning of the body, a revenge play is being acted out. A desire for revenge that has been controlled for years, decades even.’ Cortese pocketed his nicotine dart. ‘To explain clearly, I shall have to actually draft a report. The theory underscoring my hypothesis should be clearly argued. And, to be honest, I need more information about the victim.’

  ‘As do we all.’

  ‘Indeed. Now we may discover that the victim was thoroughly deserving of his fate. However, I am thinking that Mr Hellyer was chosen because he represented something more general. And that is a serious concern.’

  Mahoney sat back in his chair. ‘He might not be the only victim? You think there have been others, or there are more to come?’

  ‘No to the former. He wants the victim to be found in situ. It’s a further confirmation of his power. What I’m afraid of is that this could well be the first in a series. The only compensation being that the killings would not be random.’

  ‘That isn’t so reassuring to be honest.’

  ‘I’m not seeking to reassure you. The brutal truth is that the signals suggest the killer won’t stop here. He has a mindset that’s been fostered over an extended period. Some event has sparked the transition from meditation to action. This deed was rewarding for him, but the yearning to correct the world continues. It does mean you will catch him, because he wants to be discovered. Then he can explain the rationale for doing what he strongly feels must be done.’

  ‘Some solace then.’

  ‘Yes, Inspector.’ Cortese stood. ‘I shall bend my will to the task. My report will be delivered personally in the morning. Till then.’

  

  For a few minutes Mahoney stared at the notes on his pad, trying to get his head around what they were dealing with. He worried for a moment that this crime might be beyond them, but dismissed the thought just as readily. Cortese would assemble a ‘portrait’ to help them. That was one way in.

  Mahoney told himself to remember that it was careful fact-checking that often facilitated breakthroughs. The case mentioned in Cortese’s play-acting earlier was just like that. Brussel, the profiler, had initiated a call for public assistance that opened a line of communication with the Mad Bomber. A reply from the bomber led an office clerk to check through old employment records and letters of grievance. The repetition of a telling phrase from that correspondence and the recent reply narrowed the search to the bomber.

  Perspiration versus inspiration. In fact, it was perspiration with inspiration.

  Mahoney walked out to where Dunstan was toiling away on the computer next to Gibson. He called his new detective over.

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  Mahoney spoke softly and kept his shoulders relaxed; he didn’t want this to be a telling off, and he tried to show that.

  ‘Great work at Opossum Bay this morning. I appreciated you getting the information to me promptly. It made interviewing the Cheungs much easier.’

  ‘No worries.’ Gibson’s eyes were bright and his head up.

  ‘There is always room for initiative, no doubt about that. Your go-ahead attitude on this one is already being mentioned. DS Kendall liked your work at Kingston.’

  Gibson looked to be fighting a swell of pride, and his boss knew the next comment would be a sucker punch.

  ‘But I think she’d agree with me that the Cortese episode was a bit of a stuff-up.’

  ‘Yeah, it was. I just don’t know much about the history stuff yet.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’ Mahoney’s tone was a bit gruffer, but his posture was still relaxed. ‘I’m referring to the guy being here in this room.’

  ‘But Doctor Pitney brought him in.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘She’s on the case, and that.’ There was doubt creeping into his voice.

  ‘No, she’s not.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘But me no buts, DC Gibson.’ The reversion to title was a verbal slap. ‘She is the pathologist contracted to the Police Department. She is not a member of the investigative team. Therefore, whatever her level of excellence, she is not entitled to waltz in here without my express permission. We may invite her in, but that’s it. She and us are interdependent but theoretically independent. Get it?’

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘Good. As for her bringing Cortese in, I can’t begin to bore you with the issues of protocol there. Don’t get me wrong, he’s good. But he is an outsider. Just because Pitney likes him, it doesn’t mean we have to lay out the red carpet.’

  ‘She’s keen on him?’

  It was time to take the chat into his office.

  ‘Put it this way, I doubt her effusiveness vis-a-vis the good Signor is purely professional. Call me cynical, but there’s enough to be sceptical about.’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t see that.’

  ‘That’s alright. Sometimes we don’t.’

  ‘Thanks, boss.’

  ‘Now, to Cortese. I have the authority to bring him in as a consultant. You don’t. Therefore, I have to make the decision before he has all the intel he saw on the board. What if he wasn’t brought in by me and he took off with all that stuff in his head? He could talk to anybody, including the media.’

  ‘But he wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘Why not? Because he’s one of us? Like I said, he isn’t. That’s the point. We have to control the flow of information for all sorts of operational and legal reasons. It transpires that he checks out and will be useful to us. The cold reality is that we have to use people to get where we want to be. It’s perfectly okay because it’s not for personal benefit. It’s so we can get the job done. Does that make sense?’

  His blinking slowed for a touch as the information sank in. ‘Just because I think they’re on our side, I shouldn’t be overfamiliar. Yes, it makes sense.’

  ‘Good. Run things by me or Kate for the time being. I don’t want you to crawl. Keep running, but just watch out for stumbles. There’s a lot to be aware of. Use your initiative as you have been doing. But keep your eyes wide open. okay?’

  ‘Yes, Sir. No worries. I was a bit too keen maybe.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Mahoney led his DC back into the incident room. ‘Anything on the van?’

  ‘Zero. Nobody clocked a numberplate. We don’t even have a clear idea on the make. There’s no business listed as “Electric Eric” or any­thing similar. None of the other firms or contractors have heard of it.’

  ‘Get an officer back down there and speak to Boxhall and the couple at the shop. Get them to recall as much as they can about the van they saw: size, shape, what they remember about the signage on the exterior—stencil size, lettering, anything they can think of. Get an image made up and we’ll go with a public appeal through the media. What about Newcrest?’

  ‘Dunstan’s all over that, Sir.’ Gibson pointed to the officer who was scanning a computer monitor.

  ‘Right. Sort the van stuff and I’ll talk to Dunstan. Oh yeah, one more thing: Hellyer’s mobile. Alice Cheung received a text on Friday evening from the victim’s phone. He wouldn’t have sent it himself, I’m guessing, so how did his killer do it?’

  ‘Must have known the four-digit code.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Observation. Yours, I think, is 1-4-7-8.’

  Mahoney’s eyes were saucers. ‘How do you know that? You’re not hacking me, are you?’

  ‘Just a little observation game I play. It’s not that hard to follow the pattern that people swipe or tap. You go vertically down the left and then across with your right index finger. Simple.’

  It surely was. Mahoney realised he’d been tapping a capital L for Loser. Time for a change.

  ‘Are we still meeting as a group this afternoon?’ asked Gibson.

  Mahoney checked his watch; it was after five already. Shit. He still had the Forensics material to read, assuming it had been done. Where did that day just go? He called out to the room.

  ‘Guys, good work today. We’ll leave the round-up for now. Meet again tomorrow morning at eight. We can gather our thoughts then. If you’ve got somewhere to be, then go.’

  There were a few nods, but everyone continued what they were doing. Not a bad sign.

  Mahoney headed over to Dunstan. ‘Andrew, anything?’

  The burly officer held up a sheaf of papers. ‘Would you like the short version?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘Nothing. I mean it’s all quite interesting in terms of a business model. Sound investment strategy. They were good on the public consultation process. Really ticked all the boxes. Nothing untoward at all. Textbook stuff.’

  ‘Bugger.’

  ‘Well, it is for us. Hellyer’s death will require some corporate tinkering, but there doesn’t seem to be anything here that opens up a window on that death.’

  Mahoney hoped Cortese would shed more light. It was still early days but the longer the clock ticked, the shorter the fuse.

  Mike Kitchener from the Forensics team rang. A report on the crime scene at Opossum Bay wouldn’t be ready until the morning. His preliminary findings weren’t anything to write home about, he’d admitted. The pool of congealed blood on the floor did indicate a time of death earlier in the weekend. There were traces left by bodies other than Hellyer but that’s all they were. No identifiable links to actual people. Of course, those traces were catalogued and could be matched against any suspects later on. The investigative team just needed to dig up those suspects.

  Mahoney thanked him and decided to call it a day; there was little to be done that couldn’t wait till morning, and he had promised his partner he would be free this evening. The peak hour traffic to Kingston had subsided so his run up the Southern Outlet was brisk. He took the exit for Tolmans Hill and wound his Toyota round Woodcutters Road to Susan Hart’s address. As he got out of the car, he tried to leave his detective persona in the driver’s seat. A homicide case could be all-consuming but he wanted—needed perhaps—to have a personal life and leave the blood and guts shut outside. It was a forlorn hope.

  They were coming up for almost two years together; a few potholes had been negotiated and they seemed to be in a good place together. He was gradually getting better at going with the flow. In this part of his life he’d realised there was little to worry about if he decided not to worry—not an easy thing for a man so used to turning things over in his mind.

  Almost as soon as he was inside he felt relaxed. She was pleased to see him and he was glad to be here. He knew domestic life couldn’t always be as solid as it was for Ruth Rendell’s good old Inspector Wexford. One thing a lot of writers did get right with their fictional detectives, though, was the depiction of pressure. Even in his hometown he’d witnessed the debilitating effect of the job on colleagues, so if a detective in Edinburgh or Los Angeles drank too much to help block out the detritus, it was believable. Alcohol was not really an option for him. He was certainly not teetotal, but he’d found he couldn’t function even at half-speed if he’d had too much booze the night before. A glass of wine or two, but that was the limit when he was on a case. He didn’t need a furry head to go with a furry tongue.