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‘Yeah, it’s—Ooh, hang on,’ she said as something flashed on her toolbar.
She maximised the tab which she’d kept open on the Sentinel’s Twitter account. She wasn’t going to miss it again.
She’d already been dismayed to see that his followers had almost doubled overnight.
She read the tweets aloud as they appeared.
‘“Hello, fellow watchers. You’ll be pleased to know that once again, justice has been done. The bad man met his end in Belle Vale and will do no further harm. His name was Paul Brooks and he doesn’t deserve an ounce…”’
‘Oh shit, he’s named him,’ Stacey said while waiting for the next tweet.
‘The boss won’t even have spoken to the family,’ Penn said, reaching for the phone.
Stacey returned her attention to the screen.
‘“… of your sympathy. My sources tell me that forensics will be a bust so the police are going to be looking for witnesses and passers-by. Feel free to offer duff info just to make the game interesting 2/6.”’
‘Oh shit,’ Stacey said again, realising what he was trying to do. Not content with causing havoc at the crime scene itself, he was now encouraging people to offer information they didn’t have. He knew they’d never be able to tell the difference between bogus or genuine tips until they’d checked them out, using up valuable resources and wasting massive amounts of time.
‘Penn, I think you’d best pass this to the boss as well.’
TWENTY-EIGHT
‘Bastard,’ Kim said after ending the call from Penn.
‘Narrow it down,’ Bryant said, heading towards Hollytree and Paul Brooks’s address.
‘The Sentinel. He’s shared the name of the victim before we’ve had a chance to inform a single family member, and he’s encouraging false leads.’
Kim rubbed at her temple. This was turning into a very long day. Any tips called into the station now would likely be useless.
They pulled up beside a squad car. Two constables were looking through the window of the flat.
‘See anything you like, guys?’ she asked as Bryant went to talk to the woman watching proceedings from over the road with a cigarette in her hand.
‘No answer, marm. Lives alone and no spare key, according to the neighbour. Permission to use the big key?’
‘Yep, get her open.’
Kim realised that giving authorisation was pretty rich coming from her after her own performance earlier at Terence Birch’s.
Two minutes later, she was stepping over the threshold of Paul Brooks’s home. She found herself pleasantly surprised by the sweet floral aroma that greeted her.
She stood in the hallway for just a second, waiting to see if any household pets came forward.
There was nothing so she moved further into the property.
Being a ground-floor maisonette, the front of the building was made darker by the covered walkway that fronted the row of six properties, rendering the kitchen gloomy even on a bright day.
It was barely three o clock, and the light would need to be on to cook a meal.
Despite the gloom, the space was reasonably well taken care of.
She moved through to the lounge, which was a similar picture. While dated, the furnishings were clean and tidy. The television was small but up to date.
His appearance at the crime scene had given her the impression of a slovenly man, but that didn’t seem to be the case.
She headed upstairs and entered the first bedroom on the left. It was the smaller room and held only a couple of wardrobes.
