'I bet you're living in that police station, aren't you?'
He looked up, realising it was the same attendant from the other night. 'Not far wrong.' He removed a ten-pound note from his wallet.
'Or do you prefer not to be travelling the roads at night? Safer to stay in the cop shop?'
Jon put the money on the counter, sensing a wild theory on how to solve the case coming his way.
'I wouldn't worry. The Medlock flows into town a good mile north of here.'
Jon looked at the attendant. 'Say again?'
The man gave a knowing wink. 'The Medlock. I've been looking at the city centre map too.' He opened a large format A to Z and pointed to the page. 'The beast is following the river, right? It killed the woman first, now it's crept down off the moors and killed that guy by Crime Lake. Now it's got another on the Brookvale golf course. Look, the Medlock runs off the moor and passes through both spots. The animal is probably heading towards the city centre as we speak. Am I right, or am I right?'
Jon managed a tight-lipped smile. That was the half-formed thought that had occurred to him on the moor, as he was sitting on the back of Sutton's quad bike looking down towards Manchester. What had Adam Clegg called it? The Mersey basin. And the Medlock flowed right into the heart of the city before emptying into the Manchester Ship Canal. Jesus Christ, it'll be mayhem if people start believing that.
'Good imagination, mate.'
The man laughed. 'That's what my teachers said at school. Didn't get me far though, did it?'
Jon drove round the corner then immediately parked up. He took his own A to Z of Manchester from the glove box and turned to the overall map at the front. There was Saddleworth Moor, a near blank expanse just beyond the right-hand edge of the map's grid. He looked at the square nearest to it, then turned to that page and studied the main features there. Saddleworth Moor golf course. Moorgate Quarry, Ladcastle Quarry (disused). He turned to the page before. An empty area called High Moor dominated it. A patch of blue caught his eye. Lower Strinesdale Reservoir. And there, above it, was the thinnest of black lines. The River Medlock.
The area below was covered by page seventy-four. More details filled that page and he had to scan a swarm of words before finally finding the ones he was looking for. The Medlock. Still just a black line, it emerged by Sun Hill, disappeared again, then popped up further down the page at Lees Cemetery. It had widened considerably by the time it meandered past Oldham Golf Course. He turned to page seventy-three. Now it was marked as a blue line, making it easier to pick out as it trailed off the corner to continue on page eighty-seven. He saw the words Daisy Nook Country Park and Crime Lake. He remembered looking down at the river from the bridge, noting how the overgrown banks would have provided cover for an attacker. The river branched away, passing beneath the M60 ring road and on to page eighty-five. Brookvale Golf Course. Shit, the thing ran right past where Kerrigan's body had shown up. Jon looked down the page. Now it was just above Droylsden. Next was page ninety-seven. There it was again, meandering innocently through an area that was crowded with residential streets and industrial properties. At Philips Park it disappeared, emerging to the left of Beswick in a Public Open Area. Now he was on the red grid of enlarged squares that detailed the city centre itself. Familiar names sprang out at him. The Town Hall and Library. Piccadilly Gardens. The Arndale Shopping Centre. Bridgewater Hall. Granada TV Centre.
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.'