Meredith tapped his biro against the keyboard. Hundreds of pieces of Intel had already been collated, indexed, and fed into HOLMES.

The Major Incident Room buzzed, plain clothes officers from vice had been seconded to CID. A dozen uniforms, eager to progress (and happy for the overtime) had volunteered to do the donkey work.

Presently all ANPR data was being cross-referenced with the SOR. Although Meredith seriously doubted this particular sicko would already be on the Sexual Offenders Register. No, this one was a premier league nut job.

His screen filled with Number Plate hits, automatically registered and logged by the cameras in marked cars and vans, that had been within half a mile of Duke Street.

The Home Office Major Enquiry System identified three hundred and twenty vehicles that had been on the road in the hours before the body had been found. All either taxis, buses, delivery vans and, in a few dozen cases, kerb-crawlers.

Discrete enquiries had eliminated all (for now). The parameters widened, more streams of data. The boss would not be a happy bunny with the overtime bill!

His eyes flickered back to one registration number, the registered keeper info jarring. Why did he know that name?

The biro tapped faster. Nah, couldn't be? Surely not?

Meredith printed out the screen. He'd interview this guy personally.

'Got a hit, Mike?'

'This Audi, not pulled, but logged by EPs doing a CPL roundup. Notice something?'

'Day of the murder, but, jeez Mick, twelve hours, bit of a stretch. What's yanked your chain on the Audi?'

Meredith tapped against the PNC printout.

'Lost me, mate. No trace stolen, no flags, owner living Heswall, he on the list? Musher? Previous for prostitutes?'

'The name, JD, his name ring any bells?'

'Nope, soz. Now, if it was Quasimodo, that'd ring a bell!'

Mike ignored his friend�s propensity for cracking the worst jokes ever and tried again.

'OK, since we're name dropping, your starter for ten. Name the most notorious killer ever.'

'Shipman?'

'Older.'

'Shipman was freakin' ancient, mate, any older he'd be on a bloody Zimmer!'

'No, older - as in historical?'

'Hindley, Sutcliffe?'

'Closer with Sutcliffe, but older, much older.'

'OK, Sherlock, I give up, please share your wisdom with us mere bloody mortal cops eh?'

'Elementary, my dear Davies, I refer to the most famous and infamous killer of all time, Jack the bloody Ripper!'

'So, we're looking for a two hundred year old suspect? Now, just where would us poor plebs start looking?'

'How about the one person who knows more about the Ripper than any other living soul?'

The biro stabbed through the paper.

'Author, Audi owner, frequenter of Duke Street, and all round prostitute-killing expert, ladies, gentlemen, and plebs, may I introduce you to Mister James bleedin' Riding!

John beckoned to one of the uniform runners.

'Do us a favour, Offs. Get me the dash cam from. . . ' JD consulted the log, 'Yup, here's the van, all footage from AV12!'

Twenty-five minutes later, the officers looked at the screen, there was the victim. She was dressed identically, reaching in to squeeze the knee of the driver. A brief conversation before she walked away from the Audi, a look of concern on her face.

As the van pulled away, James Riding adjusted his mirror, seemingly peering up the poor girl's skirt as she climbed into a Mini.

The Mini driver, family man, respectable pillar of the community, (weren't they all?) had admitted being a regular. Obviously shocked when he found out she was the victim of such a crime. He had a cast iron alibi as he'd been on the way to John Lennon airport. A business trip in France, receipts and witnesses to verify his whereabouts. But �hed had fifteen minutes to kill. . . No. . . Not kill. . . fifteen minutes to. . . erm. . . well. . . oh dear, I'm so sorry . . .�

They left him stuttering and red-faced. Panic on his features and urine staining his business suit trousers. The idiot already thinking of excuses and lies he could tell his wife.

Ten minutes later, caught on traffic-cam, the Mini had dropped her off. A shy wave from the driver.

Into the curb pulled the Audi. Another exchange through the open passenger window.

The girl nodding nervously, as she climbed into the car. She gestured to one of the other girls, pointing at the roof of the car, miming writing. A signal used for mutual safety - I don't trust this punter, make a note of the reg', just in case.

The next time the girl appeared on Duke Street, she was dead, life spilling red into a muddy puddle.

The other girl was found, interviewed, on her mobile phone, a blurry photo of her colleague. Nervously getting into the Audi, the precaution coming too late to save her from harm.

Blue lights through the Birkenhead tunnel. JD still laughing as he told the driver about the poor guy in the Mini literally peeing himself, as he double-checked the Warrant.

Meredith asked the uniformed driver to put his foot down, the police car speeding up Borough Road, towards Heswall, and his dead-cert suspect.

'This psycho likely to kick off?' The young officer licked his lips, nerves making his mouth dry.

'Just a routine enquiry mate, no need to fret!' JD enjoyed the look on the lad's face when he added, 'Unless he is an actual psycho!'

More lip licking and forced swallowing from the driver.

'We've all got tendencies you know, just takes that extra bit of thought to become one.'

JD left the sentence dangling, knowing what would come next. It happened every time with sprogs, the new recruits were his favourite to wind up. Judging from the lad�s collar number, he'd only just come out of his two year probation, so was still a sprog in his eyes!

JD mused that anyone with less than twenty in was now a sprog compared to him and the detective! Jeez, they were getting old.

'What you mean, extra bit of thought?'

Pleased the young officer had taken the bait, Davies launched into the game.

'OK, take it you've never done the test then?'

'Test?'

'Yeah, the psycho test. Lets you see if you think like a psycho, see if you have the wiring to become one. We all used to take it back in the day! Tell you mate, most good bobbies. . . '

JD tilted his head towards Meredith.

'.... And a few good jacks, get it instantly. Always turn out to be good coppers, the way they think you see? Want a go while we're on route?'

'Psycho test? Yeah I'll give it a go.'

'Mike, do the honours, mate?'

Meredith leant forward, arms on the driver's headrest.

'OK, listen carefully. I'll tell you something. When I've finished you have thirty seconds to answer. OK?'

'OK.'

'A guy goes to a family funeral. At the wake he meets a girl. Get on immediately, he's besotted by her. They spend all day and most of the evening chatting away. Instant connection. Love at first sight he thinks. Some people just click. He's never been happier. A perfect match for each other.'

Meredith sat back, his voice becoming more serious.

'The guy pops to the loo, but when he comes back, the girl has left. He realised they've spent all that time talking but he's never got her name or number! Heartbroken he is. Anyway, the next week his sister dies. Why?'

'What?'

JD looked at his watch.

'30 seconds. . . '

'He. . . well. . . '

'20 seconds.'

'Meets a girl, so. . . . '

'Nine, eight, seven. . . '

'Did he. . . erm. . . No that wouldn't. . . '

'Four, three, two, one, I'm pleased to say, Constable, you're not a psycho! Congrats, mate!'

'Makes no sense. What's the answer?'

'Think like a psycho, Offs. Where did he meet her?'

'At a funeral.'

'Whose funeral?'

'Erm, you didn't say. . . '

'I said at a family funeral. . . So. . . ..?'

'Don't get it.'

'Easy. If he met her at a family funeral, obviously she knew his family, wanted to pay her respects. So, to get to meet her again, all he needed was another family member dead. Think psycho. I want this, this is how I get it, bugger the consequences.'

'So he killed his sister?'

'Yup.'

'Just for a chance the girl would turn up?'

'Yup!'

'But, what if she didn't?'

'See, lad, that's why you'll never make a psycho. . . or a very good cop!'

He laughed, just to let the kid know he was at least only half joking.

'Psycho didn't care, didn't think like that, probably would've just kept on offing his family in the hope she'd appear for one of them. I want. I get. This is how. Bugger everyone else. Simple.'

'Wow, what a bloody. . . '

'Psycho!' Davies and Meredith chimed in together.

'Kill the lights, second left, just up here, time to meet your first psycho. . . . Hopefully!'

FWR

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