All the Rage (DI Adam Fawley #4) - Cara Hunter Page 0,28
– that degree of linguistic dexterity suggests the upper end of the educational range generally seen with crimes of this kind.’
He puts the paper down again. ‘My guess is he’s holding down a job, though probably not one he considers “good enough” for him. A female boss is a possibility – someone who doesn’t promote or “appreciate” him. He’s likely to live alone and almost certainly struggles to maintain any sort of meaningful long-term relationship with women.’
Classic loner misfit. Just what I bloody needed.
Gow is eyeing me now. ‘Using “yob” in his username is very revealing. On the face of it, just your typical “Men Behaving Badly” casual thuggishness, but I suspect it springs from a deep albeit unacknowledged self-loathing.’
‘Age?’
‘Despite the “boy” reference, I suspect he’s more like thirties or forties.’ He gestures at the book. ‘Read that. I’m sure you’ll find it fascinating.’
‘And the fact that the assault was frustrated – what difference will that make?’
Gow raises an eyebrow. ‘Frustrated as in interrupted, or frustrated as in thwarted?’
I shrug. ‘Either. Both.’
He sighs. His face has darkened. ‘I’m afraid that may well exacerbate matters. To have been so close to getting what he wanted, only to have it snatched from him at the last minute. Things will be a lot more urgent now. And he will be a lot angrier.’
I get to my feet. I already knew we were up against it, but there’s a cold, sick feeling in my gut now that wasn’t there before.
As I get to the door, Gow calls me back. ‘One more thing, as Columbo would say. I’d get the ever-dependable Baxter to do a search on your man’s MO. It wouldn’t surprise me at all to find he’s done something like this before.’
* * *
Graeme Scott turns the lights out in the art room and starts to fumble in his pocket for the keys, then remembers he’s forgotten to turn off his sodding PC and has to go back in again. When he finally locks up five minutes later the neon strip in the corridor is still flickering on and off above his head. It’s been doing it for at least a month and the caretaker hasn’t even bothered to come and look at it. Scott doesn’t need reminding that Art comes very much lower down the pecking order than Information Technology or Media Studies but no one likes their inferiority thrust so blatantly in their face.
He rams the jangle of keys back into his pocket then heads out towards the car park. Most of the students have already left, just a few still lingering by the gates waiting for lifts. There are a couple of stringy lads hovering near a group of girls that Scott only now realizes includes some of Sasha Blake’s friends.
Scott feels the colour coming to his face and is thankful they’re too far away to notice. He reaches the car, opens the doors at the back and starts stowing away his materials as fast as he can manage. He can hear laughing now, a sudden gust of guffaws. It might be nothing to do with him – just an accident of timing – but paranoia has become a habit. The piss-taking about his clothes and his car, the nasty hurtful nickname. Just his luck that Scott rhymes with spot; though most of the acnefied little shits who call him that are pots calling the kettle black as far as he’s concerned. And as for the car, if they don’t have the basic intelligence to realize this is a classic, well, that’s their problem, not his. Only it isn’t, of course, because they’re at it again, right now. He can see the two lads out of the corner of his eye – one is pretending to crank a starter handle as the other makes farting noises. The girls are hysterical with laughter. Leah Waddell with her high heels and Isabel Parker with that ridiculous hair dye she’s done to herself. He’s amazed the head is letting her get away with it. And as for Patsie Webb with her fuckwit stupidly spelt name. Too clever for her own good, the nasty, vindictive little cow. He doesn’t like the idea of Sasha Blake hanging out with the likes of her. She’s worth better than that – she actually has some talent, some potential –
He shoves a can of paint aside to make way for the rolls of card, then yanks the doors shut and goes round to the driver’s side and gets