Lucy had also read plenty of material regarding the Creep, and on reflection, it wasn’t difficult to draw a similar conclusion. In each incident thus far, the offender had inflicted unnecessary violence; the slashing of the APs with his sword after they had handed over their wallets was completely uncalled-for, which implied that at least part of the abnormal gratification he drew from these attacks was from seeing first the terror of his victims, and then their blood. It might indeed be that this was all of it, the cash obtained little more than a bonus. And if that was the case, it seemed likely that he’d struggle to resist the impulse when it came. It could even be that, while here in Manchester lying low, maybe staying with friends or holed up in a B&B, he would feel more secure than he had in Birmingham, where the hunt for him was now really on, and so he might be even more encouraged to renew his violence.

‘How long’s this guy supposed to have been in Manchester?’ Lucy asked.

‘I only heard about him a couple of days ago, my dear,’ McGlaglen replied. ‘But it must be longer than that, surely.’

She considered this. The last Creep attack in Birmingham had made the papers about two weeks ago. Prior to that, he’d struck every few days or so. He could well be getting itchy fingers.

‘Jerry … you’re absolutely certain about this? People you know and trust are saying the Creep is in Crowley? I mean, this isn’t some flight of fancy?’

He finally turned and frowned round at her, his odd-coloured eyes alight with intensity. On the basis of past information he’d provided, he probably had the right to look a little indignant.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll go back to the nick and make this official.’ She saw a stop coming up where it would be convenient for her to jump off. There was another one on the other side of the road; she could catch a bus back to the station from there. She stood up. ‘If it happens, you’ll get your usual fee. But if it doesn’t … if we end up wasting a load of time and resources, they’ll mark you down as a bad bet.’

McGlaglen sighed melodramatically. ‘It is a sad state of affairs when a generally reliable man can only be allowed to fail once.’

‘We’re talking about someone who, for his hobby, hacks people up with a sword.’ Lucy swayed her way to the top of the stairs. ‘Forgive me, Jerry, if I’m keen to get it right.’

Chapter 6