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in the Box murders case file. There appear to be strong similarities with Max Quincey’s. We’re going to review the old case to see if we can find anything that’ll help us catch his killer.’
    ‘Ma’am, are you thinking that whoever killed Max Quincey is also the Jack in the Box murderer?’ The speaker, a milky-complexioned girl called Zoë, was the only female detective sergeant at Clerkenwell.
    ‘All I’m saying is that there may be a link between the cases. Finding that link may help us find Quincey’s killer.’ Von opened the file. ‘There were four victims. The first was—’
    Everyone sprang to their feet. The Chief Super had entered the room.
    He spoke quietly. ‘If I could have a word, Yvonne? In my office.’
    ‘Of course, sir.’ She turned to Steve. ‘Carry on, Steve.’
    In the office, the Chief Super motioned her to a chair. He remained standing. He was shaking visibly, his eyes blazing. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?’
    She hesitated. ‘What is this about, sir?’
    ‘I understand you’ve requested the file from 1985.’
    ‘The Jack in the Box murders. That’s right.’
    ‘Well, you can take it from me you’re wasting your time. To say nothing of tax-payers’ money. That case has absolutely no relevance to the murder of my brother.’
    ‘I beg to differ. The modus operandi is too similar. I simply can’t ignore it.’
    ‘It’s a copycat killing. Nothing more.’ He passed a trembling hand over his forehead. ‘The play comes back to London and some psycho decides it’ll be fun to kill my brother the same way.’
    ‘Even if that were so, sir, I still need to know what happened in 1985.’ She looked him full in the face. ‘I’d be failing in my duty if I ignored the Jack in the Box murders. We both know that.’
    For an instant, she saw hatred in his eyes, but she kept her gaze steady. ‘Of course, you’re right,’ he said. ‘I was just hoping to keep my brother’s name out of’ – he waved a hand dismissively – ‘all that.’ He collapsed into his chair. ‘So where are you with your investigation?’
    ‘The crime scene has been compromised. Your brother’s body lay in an unlocked room for at least a day, so anything Forensics find may have been deposited after death.’
    ‘Not an auspicious start. Has the profiler come up with anything?’
    ‘Nothing definite. What we need to do is interview friends, and–’ she paused. ‘Family. Sometime soon, I’ll have to ask you some questions.’
    ‘You may as well do that now. Take your notebook out. Do it properly.’
    She caught the expression in his eyes. The bastard. I haven’t prepared for this. And he knows it .
    ‘Tell me about your brother, sir.’ She opened her notebook. ‘What kind of man was he?’
    ‘I didn’t know him well. Not since we went our separate ways.’
    ‘And when was that?’
    ‘College. I left home first. I’m older.’
    ‘Which college did your brother attend?’
    ‘Sydney Sussex. Cambridge.’
    ‘Was that your college too?’ she said, knowing the answer but wanting to hear him say it.
    He smiled bitterly. ‘I went to a red-brick university.’
    ‘Did you visit him at Cambridge?’
    ‘Once or twice. I was in the Force by then, and too busy with my career.’
    ‘What did he study?’
    ‘Nothing sensible.’ He snorted. ‘Philosophy.’ He swivelled in the chair to face the window. ‘Cambridge was where he developed his love of acting. He joined Footlights. Loved it so much he went on to become an actor. I’ve no idea whether he was any good. He gave it up after a few years and went into directing.’
    ‘Was he popular at Cambridge?’
    ‘Very.’ He turned and looked hard at her. ‘Too popular, you could say.’
    She frowned. ‘I don’t understand you, sir.’
    ‘He formed certain friendships.’ He hesitated. ‘With others in the college.’
    ‘Is Sidney Sussex a male college?’
    ‘It was when my brother was there.’
    The silence lengthened,