Design for Murder by Roy Lewis Page B

hustled by the politicians into acting before we had it all sewn up.’
    ‘But you must have felt you had enough evidence to bring him to trial,’ Charlie said.
    ‘And the CPS agreed,’ Rawlins countered. ‘But in the end…. Look, the facts were like this. We trawled the area for weeks, even before the third murder. We’d worked out the killer’s likely stamping ground, with the help of forensic psychologists and good police work. And we placed several officers, DS Paula Gray included, under cover. It worked. Conroy struck up an acquaintance with her. She fed him the right questions. And she got incriminating answers. The trouble was, the CPS advised us that there was too much of the honey trap in the situation and we were restricted in the evidence she was permitted to give. And … well, maybe she went too far.’
    ‘Sleeping with the guy?’ someone called out.
    Rawlins reddened. ‘She denies that. Conroy came up with the suggestion to his lawyer and the court went along with it. But it was a lie.’ He paused, then nodded. ‘The fact is we had him. But it was the last few nails in the coffin that we were missing. He fitted the profile: he wandered regularly in the area; he picked up women; he had this artistic bent. We even had the scalpel he used….’ He paused, recollecting the humiliation suffered by the prosecution in the courtroom when the scalpel evidence was thrown out as inadmissible. ‘But what we lacked was a DNA link to the bodies.’ He sighed; shook his head. ‘There had to be a safe housesomewhere. The women were tortured and killed some place he had access to, used regularly, that’s what we surmise. But we couldn’t locate it. And after the women were dead he cleaned them up, dumped them in different locations. And he never raped them. He got his kicks from the carving, and the screams, we guess. We hunted for the torture place; we’re still combing the area for it. But so far we’ve not found it. Sure, we know it wasn’t his apartment. We guess he had access to some other place, where he did the business that turned him on. But we still haven’t found it. Believe me, we’ll get there eventually. We should have waited; kept the heat on him till he cracked. But he’s an arrogant, self-confident bastard. He’s not easy to break. And the pressure was on, from the media, from the Home Office, from the politicians. So we went with what we had.’ He shrugged despondently. ‘It wasn’t enough.’
    There was a short silence. ACC Charteris leaned forward. He frowned; glanced around the room. ‘And that’s where we are today. Except things have moved on somewhat. ACC Rawlins has handed over a mass of files to me. Because now we’re involved.’
    There was a rustle of movement among the officers in the room, a quickly suppressed murmur. Charteris held up an admonitory hand. ‘We’re now being called upon to work hand in hand with the team led by my colleague here. ACC Rawlins and his team will continue to follow up all possible leads in the Midlands to find out exactly where the murders – and the tortures – were carried out. As for us, we’ll be keeping a close eye on Raymond Conroy … who, as far as we’re concerned, is the man still in the frame. In spite of the collapse of the trial.’
    Charlie Spate raised his head. ‘I’m not clear about this, sir. What’s going on?’
    Rawlins leaned forward again and passed a hand over his tired eyes. ‘It seems Raymond Conroy’s put up his apartment for sale. And the property has been snapped up. There are always ghouls who’ll want to buy a place connected to a celebrity … and Conroy’s got celebrity status, believe me, even if it is of a ghastly kind.’
    Charteris nodded grimly in agreement. ‘And from what we hear, Raymond Conroy intends relocating up here. We’ve been keeping tabs on him at his hotel, but he’s now moved out, and is renting a terraced house in Gosforth. But it’s a short-term let. It looks as though