Ralph came barging into Simon’s office the next afternoon. They were still identifying the babies. Simon had retreated into his sanctuary to think, but far too early Ralph interrupted him.
“What do you need, Simon?” He made Simon lose his count. Two hundred and fifty-two taps on the mobile with his left index finger, then the same with the right. Around him, spread out and meticulously arranged, were photos of the victims and a book on the ‘Wolfman’ Stackpoole had given him. Something was in there that would help, Simon knew it. If only he was able to see it. But there were only numbers in front of his mind’s eye.
He looked up and tried to put a hint of irritation in his voice. “What do you mean, Ralph? I need to solve the case.”
Four dead infants, one dead homeless boy, all victims of
