The Mardi Gras Murders

by Mark Peters

Chapter 37

The city was really buzzing when we finally stepped off the bus just near Hyde Park. It was a glorious morning and there were people everywhere, with many of them heading for Whitlam Square and the start of Oxford Street, most likely with thoughts of grabbing a good spot from which they could view the parade later in the day.

'Have you been into the city very often?' I asked the boys as we stood watching the stream of people pass us by.

They both shook their heads.

'How about we wander down to the Opera House and have a bit of a look around there for starters?' Adam suggested. 'Then we can follow the harbour around to The Rocks and then back up into Pitt Street to check out some shops.'

'All the floats will soon start gathering over on the other side of Hyde Park,' I remarked. 'How about we save the shopping for another time and see if we can get a close look at the floats as they are marshalled for the parade?'

'Okay then . . . we've still got a few hours to kill, so how about we hike down to the Opera House, find something down that way for lunch and then come back up here to check out the floats?'

'Sounds pretty good to me,' I replied.

'The cops have got a float, haven't they?' Nick asked.

'Yeah, mate.'

'So, are you going to be on it?' added Brad.

'Not a chance, kiddo. I'll leave that to the professionals.'

'What are you? Chicken or something?' he teased.

'Brad, do you think you would be game enough to get up in front of thousands of people, while dressed in Lycra, and not much of it, and flash that cute little tush of yours at them while dancing around to disco songs from the nineteen-seventies?'

He was grinning, but at the same time he was shaking his head.

'Nah, I didn't think so,' I gently mocked.

'So, you think my tush is cute?' he responded.

Oh, fuck, I thought.

I glanced at Adam, then at Nick, they were both grinning at me.

'Well?' demanded Brad.

'Well, maybe with about five more years of working out I might find it attractive . . . but you've got a long way to go yet, kid,' I responded. Then, with a sudden burst of inspiration I grabbed Adam and spun him around, while slapping him on the arse and saying, 'Now this tush . . . this one really gets my motor running!'

'Hmmm . . . mine too,' a stranger's voice from behind me suddenly said. Spinning around we found two guys, both of whom looked to be in their forties, walking towards us, before passing on either side of us and keeping on going. They both looked back over their shoulders and grinned at us before continuing on their merry way, with one offering a wink before he turned back around and kept going.

Adam and I looked at each other and cracked up laughing. At first the boys didn't quite know what to think, but pretty soon they joined in and were laughing with us, with both of them also giving Adam a slap on the tush as we headed off down the street towards the Opera House.

The boys were agog at some of the people we passed on the way down the hill, with same-sex couples of both sexes being the norm, rather than the exception, on this particular day of the year. Even at this early hour, there were dozens of people who were wearing parade outfits, or at least that's what they looked like to me. For all I knew, however, they could have been wearing their normal dress for a Saturday night on the town, which had me thinking that if that was the case, they sure must have gone to some way-out gigs. Of course, I could remember people getting dressed up in similar fashion for nights out at the Imperial, or even Caesar's – back when I used to frequent that particular place – but even by those standards some of today's outfits were outlandish.

Nick and Brad were walking a few metres in front of us and I could see their heads spinning from left to right as they tried taking in the sights. When a bikie chick, who bore a striking resemblance to Helen, passed them and said, 'Hello, sweetie,' to Brad, he turned his whole body around to watch her, subsequently running straight into a leather clad man with a handlebar moustache.

'Geez, kid, you're a bit young to be out today,' he gently kidded him, as he helped straighten the boy back up and set him right on his feet, before he fell over entirely.

'Oh . . . uh . . . sorry, mister,' was all Brad could manage to stammer, while his brother could only laugh at him.

The man said, 'No problem little buddy,' then kept walking, while giving Adam and me a wink as he passed us by.

For the next hour we continued our stroll, exploring the Opera House and gazing up at her magnificent white sails, just like all the tourists who were doing the same, walking all the way around the landmark before finally finding one of the cafés, where we bought some lunch and continued our people watching. For Brad, it must have seemed like he'd died and gone to heaven, as he was checking out both the guys and the chicks, but judging by the disappointment which showed on his face after I told him that most of the girls he had been ogling were only interested in other girls, this was a huge let-down.

Afterwards we started back up the hill, passing an ice cream vendor from whom we bought some more refreshments, before continuing on our way.

At one point, a guy who looked to be at least forty rolled by on a skateboard, wearing tattered jeans, no shirt and a baseball cap that was sitting sideways on his head. For his age he still had a pretty decent body, but you could definitely tell he had seen better days.

Personally, I had always found it rather sad seeing folks like that. To me, it was as if they still seemed to be stuck in their teenage years; however, one day the world was bound to catch up with them and when that happened, they would be in for one hell of a shock.

I distinctly heard Brad say, 'What the fuck?' and elbow his brother in the ribs, as they both chuckled at the sight.

As we continued on our way up the hill the boys were still ogling every good-looking, half-naked guy they saw, or sniggering at some of the older – though still obviously gay – guys that seemed to be living in the past.

'Just remember boys, that gay folks come in all shapes, sizes and ages, and maybe one day it could be you getting dressed up at seventy but still going out to enjoy the parade and the camaraderie of having fun with friends you've had for years and years,' I cautioned them.

'Does that mean when we're here in our seventies and still struttin' our stuff, you'll both be in your eighties and be here with us?' Brad responded.

'Well, Brad, I don't know about Rick, but you can count me in!' Adam replied, just a little too eagerly, I thought.

He looked at me with raised eyebrows, as if daring me to say something to the contrary.

'Yeah, why the hell not?' I said with a laugh. 'But it'll be a miracle if your tush is still cute by then.'

'Maybe, but it'll still be cuter than yours,' Brad shot back.

'Well, the kid does have a point there,' Adam observed.

'Right, that does it. I'm joining a gym,' I declared.

It was after lunchtime by the time we made it back to Hyde Park, footsore and ready for another rest, but there wasn't really time for that, at least for me, as I would soon need to front up at our squad room for the briefing.

Crossing through the park we headed for College Street, where I thought the floats would be starting to assemble.

'How many floats are there in the parade?' Nick asked me as we strolled along.

'I'm really not sure, mate. Why? Do you want to try and get a spot on one as a dancer or something?' I asked.

'Oh, hell no,' he replied. 'Anyhow, I'm too young . . . aren't I?'

'Yeah, you might need to give it a couple of years. Maybe then we'll see what you think about it,' I chuckled, while playfully ruffling up his hair.

The look on his face just at that moment, which had quickly flushed bright red, was priceless. I simply smiled at him. Here was a kid who, only days ago, had confided in me his innermost secret, yet he seemed to be embracing his sexuality with a maturity that was beyond his years. There was so much he still had to learn, and so much I wanted to teach him about the ways of the world, but there was also so much I wanted to protect him from. Even so, I already knew that while he would probably make mistakes along the way, just as we all did, he would still emerge from this transformation from boy to man as a self-assured and confident person, able to deal with whatever life threw at him. All I wanted was for him to be safe and happy in life, and while ever I was around, I would do everything I could to help him be just that.

When we reached College Street, on the far side of Hyde Park, we noticed some signs directing people and floats to the marshalling areas in the various streets joining it. There were other people following the signs, so we simply followed the crowd, most of whom seemed to be chatting away excitedly. Their levels of excitement seemed infectious, as around us people in all states of dress, or undress – as the case may be – were talking and laughing and adding to the party atmosphere that seemed to be building.

Once more, the boys' heads were spinning, with their eyes almost jumping out of their skulls.

As I looked at some of the people around us, I couldn't quite figure out what was with some of the parade participants, as the start of the parade was still more than six hours away, yet here they were all dressed up and ready to go. Perhaps it was the shock factor they were enjoying, or perhaps it was simply the freedom of being able to wear whatever they wanted on this particular day of the year, so they were simply making the most of it?

I wondered how long it might be before I would need to arrest someone for indecent exposure?

Turning down the first street we came to, we were soon confronted with the spectacular sight of a row of Mardi Gras floats, all lined up along the edge of the road, while having the finishing touches applied by an army of workers.

There were about a dozen floats of all shapes and sizes, with people fussing over them as they applied streamers, banners, tinsel, ribbon and just about anything else you could imagine. In the middle of the street other people were rehearsing their dance moves, while along the footpaths there was a curious line-up of onlookers, of which we soon joined the ranks.

'So, what do you think, boys?' I said to them.

'Never seen anything like it!' Nick cheerily replied. 'It's like something out of . . . of . . .' he tried to add, as he searched for just the right word.

I gave him an encouraging pat on the back.

'It's like Disneyland,' he finally managed to say.

'And the Sydney Royal Easter Show, and Christmas, and New Year, all rolled into one,' Adam added.

'Just you wait until the parade starts!' I suggested.

As we continued to stroll down the footpath, the boys went ahead of us, trying to get a closer look at some of the floats, dodging workers and participants and spinning around and around as they would pass them, their mouths open in a constant state of amazement.

Amongst our own kind I felt somewhat emboldened and at one point I reached across and took Adam's hand in mine. At first, I think he was quite surprised, but when he gently gave my hand a squeeze it felt empowering. I couldn't ever recall having held hands with another guy in public like this . . . even with Martin, any signs of affection had usually been kept far out of the public eye. We were comfortable enough to show some affection for each other when his parents were around, but even then, it was little more than handholding, so as far as Adam's and my relationship was going, this felt like something of a big deal.

'Did you ever think that you'd find yourself walking down a street in the middle of Sydney, hand in hand with some guy?' Adam asked me, as if he were reading my mind, as we stopped and leant against the front of an office. We were watching the boys circle a large trailer that was decorated with the colours of a well-known suburban-based gay football club. A bunch of fit, good-looking guys, wearing only their football shorts, were at work around it, and the boys seemed enthralled by them.

'No,' I replied honestly. 'And to be perfectly honest, I don't think I've ever imagined myself being this up close and personal with a Mardi Gras parade either. Just ask Helen what my reaction was when I found out two weeks ago that I would be helping out with the police float.'

'I'll have to try and remember to do that,' he replied with a quiet chuckle. 'I take it that it wasn't the response that she had hoped for?'

'Let's just say I was slightly pissed at the idea, and she was slightly pissed at the newbie showing some attitude!'

'Nice one! Way to go with making an impression there, Detective Constable!'

'Tell me about it!' I laughed.

When the boys moved on to the next float, a pink monstrosity with pom-poms attached all along the sides, we tagged along behind them. I was happy for Nick and Brad to explore things for themselves, provided they didn't get too far ahead of us or in the way of those people working around the floats. I was also particularly pleased that Brad was at least curious about this world his brother seemed destined to become a part of. Even if his own interest in guys changed and he grew out of that as he grew older, and he ended up totally straight himself, Brad would still have an understanding of what it was like to be Nick and would, hopefully, be able to offer him some support as they grew up together.

I mentioned this to Adam as we strolled along, and he agreed with me, although he was doubtful that Brad would end up straight.

'Just look at him,' Adam urged. 'He's into this whole scene just as much as Nick is.'

'Yeah, but he's only thirteen, for fuck's sake. How many times did you change your mind about things between when you were thirteen, and eighteen or twenty?'

'About liking guys? None at all. I knew what I wanted and set out to get it,' Adam replied. 'But about other stuff, well yeah, I guess I did chop and change a bit. My guess is that Brad's just playing the bi card like a lot of guys tend to do . . . Oh no, I'm not totally gay, I dig chicks too, so I must be bi, not gay! Don't tell me you haven't seen guys say or do that . . . then five minutes later go off in search of some new guy to fuck them? They use it as a convenient cover.'

'As a cover? So, you're saying that all guys are either gay or straight, but if they say they're bi all that means is they're really gay but aren't able to admit it? It's either black or white, and no shades of grey in between?'

'I didn't say that.'

'So, do you even think that bisexual guys . . . ones who actually do enjoy sex with both guys and girls . . . really exist? Or are they all just gay guys using this as a convenient excuse?'

'They exist. Of course they do. All I'm saying is that some guys who are truly one hundred percent gay just can't bring themselves to admit it, so until they can find the courage to do that, being labelled as bisexual is the lesser of the two evils.'

Looking at Adam's face I could see that he was becoming slightly exasperated by the conversation. Suddenly I stopped and grinned at him.

'Now what?' he asked.

'Did we just have our first disagreement?' I asked him.

'That wasn't a disagreement,' he pouted.

'Then what was it?'

'It was more like a . . . a robust conversation about a topic we both had opinions on.'

'And who was right and who was wrong?'

'Neither of us. If you had been paying attention, you misunderstood what I was saying. It was you who jumped to the conclusion that things were either black or white.'

'Is that so,' I replied.

'The truth is, there are many shades of grey between those two extremes. I just hadn't had the chance to explain that to you. The real trick, is that each of us simply needs to find the shade that we are most comfortable with.'

'So, what about Brad, then? What shade do you think he is?'

'Right at this moment, I'd say he's somewhere in the middle. He's still figuring himself out. But if black is straight, and white is gay, I think that by the time he's eighteen he's going to be awfully pale looking!'

'I guess we'll just have to see about that in five years' time then.'

'Yeah, I guess we will, won't we,' Adam replied, with a lopsided grin on his face, which just didn't seem to want to go away.

'What?' I had to eventually ask him.

'Oh, just that bit about five years . . .'

'And?'

'I'm just thinking how much I like the sound of you still being here then,' he replied.

'You better get used to it,' I said to him, as I pulled him to me and kissed him, much to the delight of some of the boisterous crowd around us, none of whom I could say I knew.

I left the three of them there a short while later, after having given them all instructions to be careful throughout the day and to check in with me regularly, before I then headed for the station and the briefing.

With Adam, I felt safe, and I felt loved. I could see us building a future together, and I had no intentions of letting anybody stand in the way of that happening, and as I walked through the growing crowds I was as happy as I had been for ages, even if there was still that shadow hovering in the background that I knew we still had to deal with today.

When I reached the station and made my way up to our squad room, I found that the team was still gathering. The inspector was waiting, along with Helen, Garry Kwan, Craig Andarakis, Scott Willis and several uniformed officers, whom I was soon introduced to.

That still left Scott's partner, Tom Buckley, plus Jim Harris and Joe Benevetti to arrive.

'Good of you to join us, Cooper,' the inspector said. 'I hope you are ready for what today is going to bring?'

'About as ready as I can be, sir,' I replied.

'Good, good,' he replied.

He was standing in front of a large noticeboard that took up a portion of one wall, and upon which I could see several large street maps, which, even without getting closer to them, I could tell were of the inner city. There were already a number of marks that had been made on them in red marker pen, identifying Hyde Park, Oxford Street and other key locations along the route that the parade would be taking, and it was these I knew we would need to memorise before setting out.

After saying hello to everyone else, I took a seat beside Helen.

'Everything alright with your companions?' she asked quietly. She already knew that Adam, Nick and Brad would be attending the parade, and while she wasn't entirely happy about it, there was little that any of us could do. Even if they had been forbidden from going to the parade, we all knew that they would have found a way to attend, one way or another, so at least by having them chaperoned by Adam we were confident that we would be able to keep them safe from harm.

'The boys are with Adam,' I said to her. 'I've just left them down near the marshalling area, checking out some of the floats. They'll be okay.'

Just then, Jim Harris and Tom Buckley arrived, which only left us waiting for Joe. I think we were all wondering whether he would show up or not, but moments later he entered the room, his dark mood evident for all to see just as soon as he opened the door.

'Joe! Glad you could make it,' the inspector said with a smile.

'Where else would I rather be?' he mumbled, while casting an icy stare in my direction.

'Alright then. Take a seat you lot and we'll get down to business,' the inspector ordered, before picking up a bundle of buff-coloured folders from a nearby desk and starting to hand them out.

According to what I had been able to gather from my colleagues in the past couple of weeks, it was apparently unusual for the inspector to be so hands on with cases in his command. In those two weeks, however, he had been there when we had taken down Andy Jarvis, and he was now taking an active role in this investigation. Nobody in our command had seen him do this before, or at least not in recent times, and it definitely had people wondering.

In due course, the inspector handed me one of the folders, giving me a wink as he did so. Looking at the front of it I quickly noticed a label fixed to the centre of the front cover, which read, Operation van Gogh .

'Van Gogh, sir?' ventured Jim Harris.

'Our quarry is an art teacher, is he not? And an obviously insane one at that . . . I thought it was a good fit, Jim,' Richardson replied, with a wry smile.

'Whatever you say, sir.'

'Now,' the inspector began. 'As you can see, we have several visitors here today, being Sergeants Lee and Spataro, from uniformed branch, who will be helping to coordinate everything from their end.'

Everyone nodded in their direction, receiving acknowledgement in return.

'I have given this operation the title of Operation Van Gogh , the reasons for which I have already outlined. Now, as you are fully aware, a threat has been made against Detective Constable Cooper, here, and by a man who we believe is the perpetrator of numerous crimes over the past five years, including several murders. Our aim today is to try to draw out the suspect and make an arrest, with minimal disruption to the Mardi Gras parade, or impact on the public. Is that understood?'

Murmurs of consent echoed around the room.

'Very good,' the inspector responded. 'Now, each of you has an outline in front of you with the details of our suspect, along with a plan of action. Those of you in this command will already be familiar with who we are dealing with here, while those of you from outside this division will need to bring yourselves up to speed quite quickly, as well as distribute copies of the image we have of the suspect to your own men.'

'We have already done that, inspector,' one of the visitors remarked. 'Detective Wheeler had forwarded the photo to us a few days ago, along with an outline of why he is wanted, so our men already have some understanding of who we are dealing with, and in fact have already been looking for him in recent days.'

'Thank you. That is good news,' the inspector replied. 'And nice work, Wheeler.'

While this exchange took place the sound of papers being shuffled could be heard, as the rest of us skimmed through the information in front of us. I knew it all, of course, as I had already lived through it, but for some of the others there were still a few surprises. We had also previously discussed a plan of attack for the day, even if only briefly, which was also outlined in the papers. Basically, this revolved around each pair of detectives in our command covering one city block along Oxford Street, with one officer on either side of the road, ready to call on any other available officer if, or when, a situation arose.

'Sir, if I may?' offered Garry Kwan.

'Yes, Garry?'

'It occurs to me that Corcoran was well aware of Cooper and Wheeler's involvement with the police float for the Mardi Gras . . . which the attack on Jimmy Tan can testify to . . . so I suspect, at the very least, he will be expecting Cooper to be somewhere in the vicinity of that float.'

'That's a reasonable assumption,' the inspector responded.

'But the float will be moving, so how do we allow for that? Unless, of course, Cooper is on the float . . .'

'Which can't happen,' Joe Benevetti interjected, 'as he is the bait and needs to be accessible.'

Bait?

I don't think that I had really thought about it like that before. But that was exactly what I was.

'So, how do we get around that?' asked Scott.

'That's fairly simple, we all just move with the float,' offered Helen. 'There are four pairs of us, plus the inspector, plus uniformed branch. If Cooper and I tag the police float and move with it, what we then need is for you other D's to be stationed in front of and behind us. Inspector Richardson will be stationed in the control centre, monitoring the security cameras, ready to relay anything back to us that may be of use. I think we need two teams covering the blocks in front of us, and another team handling the block behind us, and for everyone to keep moving at the same pace and staying the same distance off us at all times.'

'Do we still split and take one side of the street each?' asked Scott.

'Yes, I think so,' answered Helen. 'Your role will be to keep a look-out for Corcoran, so by splitting we'll maximise our chances of spotting him, yet we'll all still be close enough to our partner to be able to help if needed . . . we'll just have to cross the street to get there.'

'And what are your thoughts, Cooper?' the inspector asked me.

'I know that I don't have a great deal of experience in operations like this, sir, but it's the only way I can see it working,' I replied. 'Provided we are all in contact with each other, and have the back-up of the uniformed officers, then we should have most bases covered.'

'I agree,' the inspector concurred.

'There is one other thing that I think everyone needs to be aware of, sir,' I added.

'Which is?'

'Corcoran has recently taken to changing his appearance, so if we are looking for him today chances are, especially for anyone who hasn't actually seen him yet, that he could walk right by us and not even be recognised. He has become something of a chameleon . . .'

'So, what are you saying now?' Scott asked.

'Just that no matter how hard we might try to look for him, we might never actually find him. Rather than it being a case of us finding him, it could quite possibly end up the other way around, with him finding us, when he's good and ready, or when the opportunity presents itself.'

There were a few moments of silence as everyone digested that information. This exercise was going to be like finding the proverbial needle in the haystack, yet as difficult a task as that might seem to be, we all knew that it was one that we couldn't fail to complete.

For the next half hour we went over and over the details, discussing all manner of possible eventualities, until we were all comfortable with our roles and what each of us needed to do.

Tom and Scott would be the lead team, with Craig and Garry following them, ahead of Helen and me. Jim Harris and Joe Benevetti would have our backs, which in itself made me nervous, but this was something that the inspector insisted upon, for reasons I wasn't entirely sure of. The inspector himself would be in the Mardi Gras security command centre, while uniformed officers would also be stationed on each and every block along the route.

'Now, there are two more things that I want everyone to ensure they are up to speed with,' the inspector added. 'The first of these is that everyone needs to be in contact with each other, so we are all going to be carrying radios. The second is that even though this operation is out amongst the public, I want everyone to ensure that they are carrying their weapons.'

'Do you think that is wise, sir?' asked Garry Kwan.

'I think it's essential. I don't want anything to be taken for granted here, as we already know how dangerous this suspect is, and if worse comes to worst we must be prepared for every eventuality. The tactical response team will also be on standby, so all in all the parade will be well covered, with the greatest concentration of officers being around the police float. At the end of the day, I fully expect our suspect to be in custody.'

'Or dead,' Jim Harris gravely added.

When we hit the streets sometime later it was mid-afternoon and the crowds had grown significantly in the few hours since we had been locked away inside. Helen had been held back by the inspector, and so while I waited on the street, I called Adam to see where he and the boys were. For quite a while it went unanswered, but just before I was about to give up Adam finally picked up.

'Sorry, babe, it was hard to hear the phone,' he said, rather apologetically. 'There's quite a crowd here now.'

'Where are you?'

'Still by the floats. We found the police float . . . it's a shame you won't be up on it dancing!'

'Smartarse!'

'I try. So, is everything organised?'

'About as well as it can be. Now we just sit back and wait . . .'

'Well, at least make sure you enjoy some of the parade in the meantime.'

'We'll see. How are the boys? Behaving themselves, I hope?'

'Just like two little angels.'

'That'll be the day,' I laughed.

'They're having a ball.'

'Alright then, just call me if you need me.'

'Will do. You just make sure you take care.'

'You too,' I replied.

As I slipped my phone back into my pocket, I was joined by Helen, looking a little harried after her private audience with Inspector Richardson.

'Everything okay?' she asked.

'Yeah, so far so good. But it's still early days yet. What did the old man want with you?'

'Gave me a lecture about keeping a close eye on you . . . nothing is allowed to happen to the Golden Boy,' she gently teased. 'So, where are your boys at?'

'Down by the floats still. It sounds like they are having fun, so at least some of us are enjoying Mardi Gras.'

'Don't worry, Cooper. You'll get your chance to play dress-up next year.'

'Geez you're a funny woman!'

'Come on, let's hit the streets and check out how things are going. I want to get a look at the route while the place isn't totally packed out.'

Looking at my watch, I could see that we still had more than three hours before the parade would be starting, so I set off after her.

By now, most of the streets had been cordoned off with barricades, designed to keep crowds at bay, though in places there were gaps in the fencing, to allow access for security and essential services. Security itself was being handled in the most part by the Mardi Gras organisation's own team, which was made up primarily of qualified volunteers, all of whom were clearly identified by their distinctive uniforms with fluorescent vests, while there was also a visible police presence.

When the chance arose Helen and I ducked though an opening in the barricades and onto the street, as it would be easier to walk along an empty street rather than having to dodge pedestrians, but no sooner had we done this when we were confronted by one of the security officers.

'Hey. What do you two think you're doing?' the burly looking guy said to us. 'No public allowed on the streets.'

I guess that we both looked common enough in our loose-fitting casual clothes – to cover up what we were packing beneath them – to have been mistaken for members of the general public. Helen and I both whipped out our badges and flashed them his way, which had him quickly back pedalling. At least he was doing his job. I just hoped he was still being this vigilant in about five or six hours' time.

Continuing on our way along Oxford Street, we quickly realised that it would be impossible to allow for every contingency. There were simply too many lanes and streets that joined Oxford, from which Corcoran would be able to come or go, and quite likely without being seen by anyone on our team. With thousands of spectators, hundreds of dancers and performers, and a trail of floats cruising slowly along, it was as if the whole scene had been constructed just for him, so that he could come and go, and make his play, totally at will.

'Jesus, how the hell are we expected to be able to find one person in all of this?' Helen complained when we had stopped at an intersection, just as a council vehicle towing a trailer loaded with portable toilets came right past us, before turning down one of the side streets after a security officer moved a barricade aside. 'When those sidewalks are wall to wall with people it'll barely be possible to walk along there, let alone chase a bad guy and arrest him, or stop him from getting his hands on your lily-white arse!'

'It's not hard to see why he said that this would be where he saw me again. It could happen anywhere, at a time and place of his choosing.'

'Yes, but it would have to be at a specific place, he will have had to have mapped it out, planned it so that he knew just when he would come face-to-face with you . . .'

'And then he would need to be able to get away, hopefully with me chasing after him . . . and everyone else getting caught in the melee.'

Helen walked out into the middle of the vacant intersection and stood there, doing a complete three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn and looking at everything around us.

'What about a place like this?' she asked.

'There'll be too many people, because they'll be on the actual street across the intersection, so there's a danger he would get caught up in them himself.'

'So, where then? Where would you choose?'

'A smaller side street. Somewhere where he can stand out and be easily seen by me as the parade passes by, then get away relatively cleanly. Then it would need to have lanes leading off it, so that he could duck down those to try and lure me further away from any support that might be coming to help me.'

Helen stopped turning around and just looked at me.

'You've been giving this some thought,' she said.

I didn't want to tell her that I had spent most of the last few nights tossing and turning, as I weighed up the options and tried to get into Corcoran's head to figure out just what he might do. It had left me drained, and confused, yet in some way I believed I had actually started to think a little like him, which was another thing that had scared me.

When you get inside the head of a killer and can understand the way that he thinks, does that mean you could potentially become a killer too?

'Kind of,' I eventually replied. 'But I don't think it has helped much.'

'You might be surprised, kiddo. You're the only person we have who knows him, so you're the only person we have who might be able to figure him out.'

Suddenly it dawned on me why we were out here on the street and everyone else was off biding their time and reading up on their case briefs, while waiting for the parade to start.

'I should have known,' I chuckled.

'Come on. Let's find ourselves a drink, or something, before the real excitement starts,' she suggested.

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We support Ukraine — Мы поддерживаем Украину — Ми підтримуємо Україну

We support the Palestinian people in their struggle against oppression

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