‘And if that’s the case, why do we assume he’s going to reoffend while he’s on his holidays up here?’

Lucy paused before responding. She’d been through all the November Division crime reports taken that last week, and though there was the usual quota of assaults and street robberies, none were like-for-like with the attacks in the West Midlands. As such, with no actual crime for Crowley CID to investigate, she was now proposing that they put some spotters on the street at night in anticipation; maybe even use decoys. If the Creep’s past form was anything to go by, he’d commit his offences in proximity to town centre cashpoints. Lucy had even produced a map of central Crowley and had earmarked certain hotspots they could prioritise.

‘In answer to your question, boss,’ she said, ‘we don’t know whether he’ll reoffend while he’s here, or not. But just because the psyche evaluation suggests he’s an organised offender, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have mental problems. It also, see …’ she indicated a particular paragraph, which she’d underlined with red biro, ‘… it proposes the possibility that, whoever he is, he’s suffering from Antisocial Personality Disorder.’

‘So, he’s a sociopath. There’s a surprise.’

‘At the very least he’s a sociopath, I’d say. Look at this section.’ She read aloud: ‘“The offender demonstrates a considerable degree of delusion. For example, taking precautions to avoid identification but at the same time not realising that such a distinctive and exaggerated MO will in itself narrow his chances of remaining at liberty. The same conclusion may be drawn from his chosen attack-zones, the vicinities around cash machines, which any ordinary thief would surely expect to be progressively more heavily policed. Highly likely, the offender knows right from wrong, and is thus able to function normally when it pleases him, which will be most of the time. However, there are clear indications that when his desire to inflict violence becomes overwhelming, there is little to hold him back.”’

Beardmore looked to be lost in thought.

‘In other words,’ Lucy said, ‘it’s quite possible that when he slips back into this deluded state, whether he’s down in Brum or up here in Crowley, he’ll go straight back to work, as Jerry McGlaglen calls it.’

‘That McGlaglen’s an oddball. Are we sure he’s given us everything on this he’s got?’

‘Well … we’re never sure of that, are we.’

‘He’s grassed for us a few times, hasn’t he?’

‘Been good as gold up till now.’

Beardmore eyed her carefully. ‘What does Harry Jepson think?’

She shrugged. As Jerry McGlaglen’s joint handler, Lucy had spoken about it to Harry on the phone, but in truth he hadn’t been especially interested, pointing out in his usual frustrated way that they had more than enough work to be getting on with already.