Chris Simms - Savage Moon

The river ran right through the heart of Manchester. Could an animal seriously be following it into the centre of the city? And if it was, what sort of panic would that create?

He drove straight back to the station and, A to Z in hand, bounded up the stairs to Summerby's office. 'Sir, I know this sounds strange but… ' he stopped. There on the other side of his senior officer's desk sat McCloughlin.

They locked eyes for an instant before McCloughlin turned back round.

'Jon, come in. I was just explaining to DCI McCloughlin about how we're restructuring the investigation. He's kindly agreed to give us some officers to follow up the lines of enquiry created by Kerrigan's death.'

Jon eased himself into a chair, saying nothing.

'What were you about to tell us?' McCloughlin said, a look of amusement in his eyes.

Jon cleared his throat. Summerby's arched eyebrows indicated he should carry on. Self-consciously, Jon placed the A to Z on the table. 'There is something that links all three murders.'

Summerby leaned forward. 'What?'

With a glance at McCloughlin, Jon said, 'Rose Sutton died up on Saddleworth Moor. It's where various springs rise up, merge together and form the start of the River Medlock. The river then flows straight towards the city; Derek Peterson was found by Crime Lake which adjoins the Medlock valley. Trevor Kerrigan was killed on Brookvale golf course, which is bisected by the Medlock.'

The two men were staring at the map.

'Because of the very fact it's a river, the Medlock is bordered by uncultivated land. I looked down on it in the Daisy Nook Country Park. Wide, steep banks, covered with trees and bushes. What if Danny Gordon is using this cover to creep up on his victims?'

'So you're saying they are just random attacks?' Summerby murmured.

'Not necessarily. He could have been stalking them before the attacks, working out the best place to strike.'

'You make him sound like a predatory animal,' McCloughlin said.

The derisory note in his voice rankled with Jon. God, I'd like to lamp this arsehole. 'Maybe that's what he thinks he is,' Jon replied, looking at the map. 'Isn't that what the whole werewolf thing is about? People who believe so strongly they're a wolf, they start to behave like one.'

'So what does that make Danny Gordon, a werepanther?' McCloughlin smirked.

'Danny Gordon is obviously extremely disturbed, that much is obvious,' Jon replied. 'Who's to say he hasn't become delusional in his beliefs?'

'How does this assist the enquiry?' Summerby asked.

'If he's following the river, we could start searching the land bordering it at the very least.'

Summerby didn't sound convinced. 'Do panthers follow rivers? Working on your theory of Gordon pretending that he is one, we need to know.'

'I'd guess Jeremy Hobson could tell us that.'

'Get on to him immediately then.'

Jon left the room with the impression Summerby was humouring him. He could almost hear his senior officer's thoughts. If DI Spicer wants to relinquish his lead role and chase shadows, so be it. In the corridor he glanced at his mobile in the vain hope a message from his wife might be there. The screen was blank. He rang home. His mum picked up. 'Still no sign of her?'

'No.'

Jon weighed up his options. 'Are you OK to stay a little longer? I've got to nip out on a visit.'

She sighed. 'Go on then, but I can't just wait here all day.'

Five minutes later DCI McCloughlin walked back down the corridor to his office and shut the door. After sitting down he extracted a mobile from his pocket, leaving the desk phone untouched. After selecting a number from his phonebook, he swivelled round so his back was to the door. His call was answered immediately.

'Carmel Todd, crime desk.'

'Hello Carmel, can you talk?'

'DCI McCloughlin? Absolutely.'

'Good, I have something for your next edition.'

'Fire away.'

'You're aware another body's been found?'

'Yes. We just received a fax from your press office. Is there another panther out there? My editor is tearing his hair out.'

McCloughlin smiled. 'Just don't give the reward money out quite yet. This morning's victim was a loan shark operating in the Droylsden area, name of Trevor Kerrigan.'

'Any connection to Sutton or Peterson?'

'Unsure as yet. Which is no surprise given the way the investigation has been handled so far. You'll love the latest theory. I recommend you give it a “clutching at straws” kind of slant.'

'I'm all ears.'

'Plot the locations of the killings on a map and you'll see they've all taken place within the vicinity of the River Medlock. They're now wondering if a panther. . '

'Hang on, I thought Danny Gordon is the prime suspect?'

'Yes. But now they think he believes he's a panther.' A laugh of disbelief escaped Carmel. 'You're joking.'

'I wish I was. They're thinking Danny Gordon is creeping along the banks of the Medlock, using it as a kind of hunting territory.'

'Where does the river lead?'

'Look at your map, Miss Todd. Directly into the city centre.' She let out a low whistle. 'Now that is a good story.'

'I thought you'd like it.'

'Can I ask you a question, DCI McCloughlin?'

'Yes.'

'Why are you doing this?'

'Doing what?'

'Feeding me this information.'

McCloughlin thought about how, until quarter of an hour ago, the biggest incident to hit Manchester in God knew how long didn't involve him. Worse than that, DI Spicer, a man who had defied his orders on two previous investigations, was heading it up. But now a new hand of cards had been dealt. He had been asked by Summerby to help out and Spicer was actually requesting a lesser role. Once the Chronicle printed the man's latest theory, he would be marginalised completely. 'Do you want this help or not?'

'Oh yes, don't get me wrong. I couldn't appreciate it more. It's confusing me, that's all. DI Spicer seems like a decent officer. He's doing his best. Surely these tip-offs just undermine all his efforts?'

'Miss Todd, don't you worry yourself with details like that. I suggest you get over to Buxton Zoo. That's where you'll find Spicer pursuing his half-crazed line of enquiry.'

Jon slowed to a halt and examined the chunky wooden sign:

Deliveries and office building.

He turned down the right-hand road and followed it to a low building that had been clad in rounded lengths of timber, giving it the appearance of a log cabin.

In the reception area was a massive aquarium that appeared to contain a sizeable chunk of the Great Barrier Reef. Brightly coloured fish darted in and out of the cliff face, unconcerned by the masses of bubbles spiralling up from the gravel bed. The woman behind the counter wore the same type of shirt Hobson had on in the police station at Mossley Brow.

'I need to speak with Jeremy Hobson please.'

'And you're from?'

Jon realised he'd forgotten to take out his identification.

'Sorry. DI Spicer.'

She looked down at her appointments book.

'He's not expecting me. If you could say it's me, he knows who I am. It's very urgent.'

'OK,' she said, glancing at her watch. 'He'll be over at the panther enclosure, preparing their feed.'

She entered a three-digit number into the phone and waited.

'Hi, it's Sally in reception. I have a DI Spicer to see Jeremy. He says it's urgent.' A short pause. 'Fine. I'll let him know.' She looked up. 'Someone is on their way over. Please help yourself to a tea or coffee.'

Jon stepped over to the machine, eyes settling on the button marked black coffee. What a win, he thought, reaching for a cup. Five minutes later a young man in a green fleece, khaki shorts and hiking boots walked through the double doors. Jon drained the last of his drink and followed him along the outside of the perimeter fence.