a way to do it that was not so obvious it might garner future employee problems or even a group action against her. She knew an effective leader had to be unworried about the opinions of others, but that leader also had to be a political animal who knew how to twist an action taken into a reasonable step in the right direction, no matter what that action was. But she could not come up with a way to make her next move look like anything other than a declaration of her distrust. The very effort it took to plan out an approach actually made her teeth start aching till she wondered if she'd gone too long without a visit to the dentist. She searched in her desk for a packet of paracetamol, and she swallowed two with a gulp of cold coffee that had been sitting next to her telephone for God only knew how long. Then she went in search of...she decided to call it exoneration. Not for herself, but for the others. She told herself that whatever she uncovered she would report back to the cops. There was no doubt in her mind that Colossus did not harbour a killer. But she knew she had to seem reasonable to the cops, especially in light of having lied to them earlier about Jared Salvatore's being one of their clients. She had to appear cooperative. She had to demonstrate change. She had to get them away from Colossus.
She sidestepped Jack Veness for the moment and went in search of Griff. She saw through the window of the assessment room that he was in session with his new group of kids, and the flip chart he was using indicated that they were evaluating their last activity. She made a gesture when she caught his eye. May I talk to you? it said. He gave her five fingers and a half smile that communicated his mistaken belief about the topic she wished to pursue. No matter, she thought. Let him think she meant to cajole him back to her bed. That might make him less wary of talking to her, which was all to the good. She nodded and went to look for Neil Greenham.
She found Robbie Kilfoyle instead, in the practice kitchen, setting up for a cookery class. He was taking bowls and pans out of the classroom cupboards, working off a list provided him by the instructor. Ulrike decided to start with him. What the hell did she really know about Robbie anyway aside from the fact that he'd been in trouble with the law long ago? Peeping Tom, the CRB check upon him had revealed. She'd taken him on anyway as a volunteer. God knew they needed him, and volunteers had never been leaking out of the woodwork. People change, she'd assured herself at the time. But now she looked at him more critically, and she realised he had a baseball cap on...just like the e-fit of the serial killer.
God, God, God, she thought. If she had been the one to bring a killer into their midst...
But if she knew what the e-fit of the possible killer looked like because she'd seen it in the Evening Standard and on Crimewatch as well, didn't it stand to reason that Robbie Kilfoyle also knew? And if he knew and was the killer, why in God's name would he show up here, wearing that EuroDisney hat? Unless, of course, he was wearing it because he knew how odd it would appear if he stopped wearing it immediately after Crimewatch was broadcast. Or perhaps he truly was the killer and so cocky about not getting caught that he'd decided to be in her face and everyone else's with the EuroDisney cap on his head, like a red rag waving in front of a bull...Or even still, perhaps he was incredibly stupid...or didn't watch television or read the newspapers or...God...God...
"Something wrong, Ulrike?"
His question forced her to bring herself round. The ache in her teeth had moved to her chest. Her heart again. She needed a thorough checkup, stem to stern or whatever.
She said, "Sorry. Was I staring?"
"Well...yeah." He placed mixing bowls on the work top, spacing them out to accommodate the kids in the class. "They're doing Yorkshire pud," he told her, with a nod to the list he'd posted for himself on a corkboard right above the sink. "My mum used to make it every Sunday. What about you?"