The Night Stalker

There were a chorus of protests and Erika left the incident room. She went out in the corridor to the coffee machine, fed in the correct change and pressed the worn and faded ‘cappuccino’ button, but nothing happened. She thumped her fist against it and thumped it again and again, taking out her frustration on the stupid machine. She didn’t hear Moss approach.

‘All right, boss? Having a spot of caffeine rage?’

Erika turned and nodded.

‘Stand back.’

Erika stepped back and Moss raised a booted foot and kicked the machine under the picture of a steaming coffee cup which adorned the front. There was a beep, then a cup plopped out into the dispenser and began to fill.

‘You’ve got to aim for the saucer,’ said Moss.

‘Brilliant work, detective,’ said Erika. ‘Is there no end to your talents?’

‘I have to say that it also works with tea, and sometimes if you press the soup button.’

‘There’s a soup button?’

‘Yes, oxtail soup. I wouldn’t risk it.’

Erika grinned weakly and took her coffee out of the dispenser.

‘Can I ask you something, boss? Do you really think this case is better off with another team?’

Erika blew on her coffee. ‘Yes, I do.’ She hated not being able to talk to Moss about this. She’d always been loyal and a wise sounding board.

‘I hear there’s a superintendent promotion up for grabs,’ said Moss. ‘Nothing to do with you wanting to get rid of a tricky case, is it?’

‘I thought you knew me, Moss. That’s not my style.’

‘Good. So why, then? I know you. You don’t give up a case easily. You’re very Charlton Heston about it.’

‘What?’

‘“From my cold, dead hands”,’ said Moss, in a bad American accent. There was a pause. ‘Come on, boss, we’re bloody close, after banging our heads against the wall for so long.’

‘Moss, I’ve said all I want to say about this. My decision is final.’

‘Okay, okay. You can’t talk about it. What if you blink once for yes and twice for no?’

‘Moss…’ said Erika, shaking her head.

‘If you can’t tell me what’s going on, can I at least tell you what I think is going on?’

‘Do I have a choice?’

‘I think that we’re overwhelmed with cases and Marsh is under pressure to massage his figures. This case is getting more complex and a bit of a hot potato. He’s offloading it.’

‘Moss…’

‘I think that the only way we’ll find a motive is when a pattern emerges. For a pattern to emerge, there has to be another body.’

‘That figures.’

‘And I just know what’s going to happen when this case is out of our hands. If there’s another body, it will be classed as a gay bashing, and there will be no end of fear-mongering and debate about the gay community. There are ten times more murders committed by straight people. When men rape and kill women, people think they’re evil. But when someone gay does the same thing, it’s seen as an extension of their sexuality! Of their lifestyle as a whole!’

Erika had been watching Moss quietly as she got increasingly worked up.

‘Sorry, boss. It’s just… I’m sick of it. We were just getting started on this. If we’re overworked, then things are going to be no different in one of the other Murder Investigation teams? And I knew this case was in a good pair of hands with you. I can already see the headlines: “Gay Bashing in Suburbia”, “Gay Terror in the London Commuter Belt!”’

‘I didn’t know this was so personal to you.’

‘Not directly… Jacob’s school did a whole Father’s Day card-making exercise the other week, and his stupid teacher – who also happens to be married to the vicar – couldn’t get her head around the fact that he has two mothers. She got him to make a card for his daddy who was “out there somewhere”. Celia had to restrain me from going up there and slapping her. ’

‘Sorry to hear that.’

‘Shit happens. I just hoped I’d get to see this case through. And I hoped you would. You don’t take shit and you always know when to do the right thing. Well, until…’

Erika saw Moss had caught herself before she said ‘until now’. They stood in silence for a moment.

‘Do you know where Peterson is today?’ asked Erika.

‘He called in sick, boss.’