Authors: Frederic Lindsay
'It
was
before,'
Standers
said,
and
paused
as
if
for
a
response.
'For
the
Robertson
case.'
'Of
course.'
Twin
girls,
Shanks
remembered,
and
only
eleven
years
old.
'It
was
my
decision
to
set
up
here,'
Standers
said.
'It
could
be
easier
in
the
long
run
,
if
things
get
complicated.'
'The
way
they
did
in
the
Robertson
case,'
Billy
Shanks
said
in
a
carefully
neutral
tone.
The
killing
of
the
twins
had
been
linked
to
three
other
child
deaths,
one
of
them
years
previously;
it
had
attracted
national
attention.
The
case
had
promoted
the
officer
in
charge
out
of
Moirhill.
'This
is
a
very
special
patch,'
Standers
said.
He
got
up
and
took
up
a
position
in
front
of
the
map.
The
bastard!
Shanks
thought,
he's
dragged
me
down
here
to
make
sure
I'll
know
how
to
spell
his
name
properly.
'Deacon
Street,
Carnation
Street,
Florence
Street,'
a
finger
followed
their
course,
'they
make
a
triangle
–
with
Merse
Street
lying
on
top
of
it
and
curving
back
to
join
Moirhill
Road.
Put
a
circle
round
that
lot
and
you'd
cover
half
the
pros
and
ponces
in
the
city.
And
the
rest
of
them
would
be
either
neds
or
ne'er-do-wells.
It's
a
human
sump.
It's
a
garbage
heap.
Don't
quote
me
on
that,
of
course
–
or
I'll
have
some
do-gooders
complaining.'
Shanks
joined
him
in
front
of
the
map.
With
a
wild
loop
of
the
arm,
he
dabbed
at
it.
'I
was
born
about
…
there,'
he
said.
'14
Florence
Street.
Two
up.
Left-hand
side.'
But
could
not
prevent
himself
from
adding,
'Right
enough,
it's
gone
down
a
lot
since
then.' Standers
gave
him
a
look
of
placid
indifference.
'The
body
was
dressed
in
just
a
shirt
and
trousers.
Pulled
on
after
he
was
dead –
at
least
that's
what
forensic
guess.
His
though,
they
fit
well
enough.
What
does
a
man
with
his
underpants
off
in
Deacon
Street
suggest
to
you?'
Shanks
discarded
the
first
two
answers
which
occurred
to
him
–
the
hardest
thing
he
had
learned
on
his
way
to
becoming
a
professional
was
when
not
to
be
funny –
and
said
seriously,
'Looks
as
if
he
was
after
a
bit
of
fun,
right
enough.'
'Our
present
problem,'
Standers
explained
sitting
down
again,
'is
to
identify the
victim.
What
he’s
wearing
is
good
quality,
but
off
the
peg.'
'And
you
can't
take
a
photograph?
Have
you
let
the
van
driver
go
yet?
Or
is
he
still
“helping
with
the
enquiries”?'
'He's
home.
He
had
his
breakfast
with
us.
For
a
while
it
just
seemed
too
bloody
convenient-
him
putting
his
wheel
right
over
the
face.'
'But
you're
satisfied?'
'Accidents
happen.
What
we're
left
with
is
a
description
of
height,
hair
colour,
estimated
age
-
no
scars
or
warts,
nothing
helpful.'
He
rubbed
a
hand
across
his
face,
moving
the
heavy
flesh
under
his
chin.
'It's
a
sex
killing.
If
you
were
writing
about
it,
you
could
describe
it
that
way.'
'I
don't
know
that
I'll
be
writing
about
it
again,'
Billy
Shanks
Said
with
a
pleasant
stirring
of
malice.
'I
don't
do
crime,
you
know.'
The
Superintendent
picked
up
the
newspaper
and
held
it
out towards
the
other
man
as
evidence.
'You
did
this
morning.'
It
had
the
tone
of
an
interrogation.
'It
was
the
way
the
body
was
cut
about.'
The
journalist's
hands flew
apart
as
if
truth
was
something
measurable
between
them.
'And
the
coincidence
of
the
date.
And,
yes,
somebody
had
been
talking
to
me
about
Jack
the
Ripper.
It
all
came
together,
but
that's
the
way
it
happens.
Just
ideas.
Just
speculation.
When
you
have
to
find
something
new
every
day
…
It's
not
really
got
anything
to
do
with
your
murder
case.'
Standers
gave
him
the
same
placid
look
as
before.
'Jack
the Ripper,'
he
said,
after
a
pause,
'how
many
did
he
see
off
then?'
Shanks
tried
to
remember
what
Tommy
Gregory
had
told
him.
Since
it
had
only
been
his
point
of
departure
for
the
column,
he
hadn't
even
bothered
to
do
any
checking.
'Four
,
no,
five.
One of
them
was
a
double
murder,
two
in
the
same
night.'