The meanest Flood

street in the morning, killed both of them and then drove back to York. But because Rolf was killed eight hours earlier than Nicole that theory doesn’t fit.
    The police are now saying that Turner was there all night, but that doesn’t fit either because I saw him arrive and park his car in the morning. Could be that he killed the guy the evening before, went home and slept through the night in his own bed then came back in the morning to top the woman. But why would he do that?
    ‘Top and bottom of it is that the police need to nail him because if he didn’t do it they don’t have a clue where to look for the killer. But people at the Coroner’s Office aren’t too sure, and the forensic people, they can’t find a sign that he was in the house.’
    ‘Do they have any evidence at all?’
    Steve shook his head. ‘Nothing much. Nicole was the kind of woman, she’d Hoover the house every day, disinfect the toilets, wipe down the work-surfaces in the kitchen. You never saw her without a duster in her hand. There’s some threads, look like they might be from a black overcoat, they found them snagged on a spell inside the back door. And they found a single pubic hair, blonde, female variety. Nicole was brunette.’
    ‘Female?’
    ‘Yeah. Vaginal hair, the stem with some kind of plastic coating.’
    ‘Not a real hair?’
    ‘Yes, a real female vaginal hair, blonde, but the stem of it had some kind of plastic residue as though it had been stuck in something.’
    ‘Plastic surgery?’
    Steve shrugged his shoulders. ‘They don’t know what to make of it. Might’ve been some kind of model, a teaching aid. They have things like that at the hospital, also the university. And Rolf was connected to the university.’
    ‘They don’t think it was connected to the killer?’
    ‘No. It doesn’t fit.’
    ‘Where was it found, in Rolfs bedroom?’
    ‘No. The sitting room. On the carpet in the bay window. Could’ve been there for weeks.’
     
    It was after ten and Marie was alone in the office in York. She composed an e-mail to Sam’s Hotmail account, told him about her day. It was dark in the town, no moon, only a few tourists and residents watching the flood waters licking their way towards the centre of the city.
    Marie stopped and listened, thinking she’d heard a footfall on the stairs. But no one would come to the office at this time of night. Perhaps one of the other tenants leaving after a spot of overtime?
    She finished the e-mail and hit the Send button. She switched off the computer and fastened the top button of her coat, feeling a chill go through her body. She checked the keys to the outside door were in her pocket and was about to leave when she heard another movement on the stairs.
    Scraping sound. Not the kind of noise you’d make if you were on legitimate business, on your way home after a long day at a desk.
    Marie opened the office door softly and moved through the vestibule to the top of the staircase. It was unlit but the upper steps were dimly illuminated by the reflected light from Marie’s desk lamp.
    She peered down into the gloom, feeling tension tightening her stomach. Those tiny hairs rising on the back of her neck. She strained her ears, listening for a movement or the sound of breathing.
    ‘Is someone there?’ she asked, keeping her voice steady. Appearances can be critical at a time like this. If there’s someone there and he detects fear in your voice he’s liable to be more confident. And that’s the last thing you want, a guy who is sure of himself. If there’s a guy there at all, you want him to be a wimp, someone who thought he might be able to follow through but has already got doubts.
    When there was no reply she backed away and returned to the office. She stood with her hand on the telephone, wondering if she should ring the police. Wondering if she could take their derision when they found no one in the building but a hysterical female private eye.
    She controlled her breathing. Shook her head and gave herself a sharp talking-to. Working on a murder case was never pleasant but it could get to you when it was close up. And Sam being away, out of the country, didn’t help. At least when he was around he’d manage to put things in perspective. It’s no wonder you’re in a state, she told herself. Your house is flooded, your boss is on the run, Celia sounds as though she might be terminally ill and there’s a madman running around killing off Sam’s