Page 72 of Reinventing Cato
Cato was right. The crooked Xdidlook like the Cygnus constellation. He switched on his laptop and brought up an image of Cygnus along with details of its stars. Ten main stars. Ten stab wounds.Coincidence?Vigge put that photo aside and looked at the next one. And the next. Six unsolved Class A murders. Stranger murders. Only one in his area. The sixth photograph caught his attention. Inigo Dewitt. No clean-up of blood as with Frayn, but the zigzag line of marks running from the victim’s shoulder to his backside was weird. Could it be another constellation?
Vigge grabbed a sheet of paper and drew the pattern. Maybe it was a star pattern, but he wasn’t sure.Cato would know.He looked at the other four murders just in case. A frenzied attack on a woman with all the stab wounds in more or less the same area. Two men who’d been stabbed just once. The last photo showed the victim had been sliced rather than stabbed, not just his back a mess of wounds.
Serial killers were known to hone their craft. First victims weren’t always indicators of what was to come. But this last guy who looked sliced, Assad Islam, was in his fifties. It didn’t feel right. He was left with Dan Frayn and Inigo Dewitt. Frayn was in his area. Dewitt in Brighton. Both young men. Both gay. Their murders hadn’t been linked by the NCA, the National Crime Agency. Vigge had sent them the information on Dan Frayn, and asked for details of other stabbings over the last six months, which was why he had these photos. Was he seeing a link they’d missed?
He wasn’t supposed to have this material at home. It was just that sometimes he liked to go over things in a place where he could think without interruption, and he didn’t always want what he was doing to be visible on his tablet.
Vigge didn’t imagine for an instant that Cato would report him, but if anyone knew he’d allowed a member of the public to see crime photos, particularly those of murder victims, he’d be in serious trouble. Demotion. Dismissal possibly. Yet, if Cato hadn’t given him that potentially brilliant lead… Now Vigge was uncomfortably aware they might have a serial killer out there. If they looked further back than six months, it was possible there were other victims with constellations stabbed into their flesh.
Part of him wanted to go to work now and check everything again. Get more details on Inigo Dewitt. He really ought not to ask Cato about the possibility of a star pattern on Dewitt’s photo, though Cato had possibly already seen it. Vigge wondered if he could log Cato as an EA, an expert advisor.
He sent an email to Surrey police to ask for a report on the RTA involving Cato’s mother. He didn’t have her first name and the surname Smith was a hindrance because of how common it was, but at least he had the name of the village where she lived, time of the accident and that her Golf was totalled. Maybe that would be enough. Vigge wouldn’t blame Cato if he never wanted to see him again, but he wasn’t going to give up on him. Maybe dogged police determination would give him the result he wanted. He called, but Cato didn’t answer. Vigge thought about what he wanted to say before he tried again, because this time, he’d leave a message.
There was still no answer.
“Sorry, Cato. I’m hoping there’ll eventually come a day when that’s not the first thing I need to say to you. But I’m really sorry. I acted like a dick and ruined what had been a great day. The best day I’ve had in a long while. My first date ever. My first date with you. Thank you for seeing what no one else had noticed.” He was careful to not to be specific in case anyone was monitoring Cato’s phone. Vigge swallowed hard. “I’m coming to the concert on Wednesday even if World War Three breaks out. I hope you’ll speak to me, but I’ll understand if you don’t want to.”
Vigge ended the call. Apart from driving to Cambridge, he’d done what he could.
He thought about that.Have I?Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe heshoulddrive there. Or should he give Cato time to cool down? The hesitation didn’t last long. He grabbed his coat and car keys.
~~~
Just under an hour later, Vigge was knocking on Cato’s door. The blond guy with the ponytail opened it.Sam.The one who didn’t like him.
Vigge smiled. “Can you tell Cato I’m here.”
Sam looked as though he wanted to slam the door in Vigge’s face, but he didn’t. “Tell him yourself.”
He let Vigge in, closed the door and went into a room on the right. Vigge headed upstairs and knocked on Cato’s door.
“What?” Cato shouted.
He knocked again. Cato flung open the door, tugging down his T-shirt as if he’d just put it on, and gaped at him.
Vigge pulled out his warrant card and flipped it open. “I’ve had a report of stupid behaviour that I need to investigate. I understand you were a witness.”Please smile.
Cato’s lips quirked. He gestured for Vigge to come into the room. “What’s the punishment for stupid behaviour? Something exceptionally painful I hope.”
“Whatever you want it to be.”
“Morris dancing.”
Oh God, does he forgive me?“Okay.”
Cato closed the door. “Only for you, not me.” Then he backed away, well out of reach.
Vigge gave a strangled groan. “About earlier. I overreacted. I’m really sorry.”
“Contrition’s a good start. I got your message.”
“This is one of those times when I wish I’d not gone into the police force.”
Cato’s brow furrowed. “What would you have done instead?”
“My dad always wanted me to be a ballet dancer.”
Cato laughed. “I’m assuming that’s a joke.”
