The Handshaker Read Online Free PDF Page B

partner is Patricia Sinclair, QC.”
    Matthews’ only response to his interruption was a slight sigh before she continued. “When we have a serial killer like The Handshaker, we get a lot of, er, cranks, for want of a better word, confessing. For that reason, we withhold certain information from the press and public. When someone rings in or comes in the way you have, we ask about that information, and if they cannot supply the correct answers, we know we’re dealing with a timewaster. One of the pieces of information we hold back is why he is known as The Handshaker, and another item we hold back is the fact that he writes to us after every killing, and all his notes have been produced on a Smith Corona manual typewriter.” She held up the envelope. “I can’t be sure until forensic tests have confirmed the typeface as a match, but this envelope appears to be from The Handshaker.”
     

5
     
    Croft’s mouth fell open and his heart pounded in his chest, pumping adrenaline into his bloodstream.
    The Handshaker had written to him. Why? And why would The Handshaker make reference to Heidelberg? How did the Heidelberg dates tally with the Scarbeck dates on the note? What did The Handshaker know about Heidelberg? How did The Handshaker know about Heidelberg?
    The enclosed space of the interview room crushed in on him, its claustrophobic confines suffocating his logical processes. Dates, notes, police officers, Trish, his father, The Handshaker, the lack of air, images, thoughts, whirled around his head, his breathing accelerated. He grabbed the edge of the table with his left hand and gripped the left wrist with his right hand, anchoring himself in reality. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with oxygen, and let it out in a slow hiss, mentally uttering the mantra, “calm, calm, calm,” over and over again in an effort to regain his composure.
    Across the table, Millie watched him with interest. Croft ignored her, fighting down the rising tide of panic threatening to engulf him.
    There was a knock on the door and it opened. Croft hardly noticed the fifty-something, balding individual framed in the aperture. Millie got to her feet, whispered something to the newcomer and they both disappeared back into the corridor closing the door behind them, and somewhere beneath the feverish fretting of his mind, Croft knew that she was briefing the man.
    Get a hold of yourself , he ordered silently. You are a Loxley man, and Loxley men do not show their fear.
    A ludicrous platitude, which had been rammed down his throat every day at his hated public school. Of course he was could show fear, and he had every right to be concerned. The Handshaker had written to him. No matter what twisted motive this lunatic had in mind, Croft had now been dragged into his web of insanity and that put him in danger of becoming a victim; perhaps not like the other victims, but a victim nonetheless.
    The deep, rhythmic breathing began to have its effect, calming him down, letting him slide his logic circuits into gear, bring about rational thought as opposed to random alarming and unconnected mental meanderings.
    What was The Handshaker’s game? Why had he indicated The Heidelberg Case? Was it a threat or merely the dissemination of information? If the former, why would he threaten Croft? If the latter, why would he write to Croft?
    Of all the questions he asked himself, he could answer only the final one, and when he applied that answer, the same conclusion he had reached over breakfast, things began to make sense. All he needed now was the two police officers to return.
    As if on some unheard cue, the door opened and the two entered, Millie taking her seat opposite Croft, while the man removed his overcoat and cloth cap, before sitting alongside her. He took out a pen and notebook, opened it at clean page and began to write, giving Croft time to study him.
    Under six feet, a squat and powerful individual in his fifties, his face looked lean,