are.”
“Let’s crack on then – tell all.”
Dee’s smile broadened. “Well, the biggest difference between police detectives and a psychological detective is that you analyse the crimes, the crime scene, the MO. You attempt to detect the crime.”
“So? Isn’t that what it’s all about?” Ted sounded puzzled.
“Well, yes – and no.” Dee replied. “A psychological detective attempts to detect the man – the criminal.”
“So what’s the difference?” Ted asked.
“Let me postulate,” She said.
“Get fined five pounds for doing that on a bus.” Groat said.
Dee looked at him sharply.
Groat hurriedly continued, “Sorry – do carry on.”
Dee frowned, appeared confused, but obviously determined to stay on track – “You go to the scene of a crime. You say, ‘this looks like the handiwork of John Smith,’ you find out if he’s out of prison at the moment and if he is, you get him in for questioning. With any luck you’ll get a confession and a fingerprint or two. Yes?”
Groat frowned. “Something like that. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, if he coughs it and it is actually his fingerprint. But what happens in the case of our serial – robber?”
“Robber; burglar.” Groat filled in.
“OK, whatever, you have no suspects and it’s an unknown MO.”
“Wouldn’t say that.” Ted said.
“But you can’t put a name to it, to him. If I say to you, ‘Who commits burglaries with this MO?’, you can’t come up with a name.”
“Not even after seven years.” Groat added.
That seemed to spark a sense of inevitability about the situation that imperceptibly nudged them towards a determination to actually do something, to move away from the juvenility of ‘my gang’s better than your gang’ and see if an open mind could create progress, where closed minds and old fashioned methods were failing.
Ever since Ted was first landed with his project and Groat had told him how things really stood, he likened the experience to swimming in treacle, with the added distraction of someone occasionally poking him in the eye with a sharp stick, or belting him around the earhole with a rounders bat. He was starting to feel cautiously optimistic, when Groat spoke again.
“Course, there’s two very big problems with all this.”
Ted and Dee looked intently at him.
“By telling you about this,” Groat gestured towards the pile of documentation Ted had brought with him, “by allowing you access to this information, Ted would be – we would both be contravening the Official Secrets Act.”
Neither spoke, the unasked question about the second ‘very big problem’ hung in the air between them.
“Secondly, if anything ever comes of it and we – ” he looked pointedly at Dee – “you – actually contribute to the arrest and conviction of the perpetrator, how do we explain it? What do we tell the job, the courts?”
“I can answer that,” she said brightly. “My gap year – I worked for the VSO people in Africa – a project sponsored by the Foreign Office. I signed the Official Secrets Act for that.”
“OK, but what do we tell people if you – we – achieve any degree of success?”
“Nothing.” She replied. “I haven’t begun to explain what it is I intend to do, or how I will go about it. Suffice to say for now, that any work I might do would be entirely behind the scenes. I will give you information in such a manner that you will be able to present it – to whoever you have to – in such a way that it could be an idea you have come up with. For example, you will be able to say, ‘Let’s look here for our suspect, or how about we look for this sort of person.’ O.K. for starters?”
“There’s actually something else, as well.” Groat said, uncharacteristically practical for once. “What do you get out of all this?”
“That’s easy.” She grinned. “When it’s all over and the dust has settled – one way or the other,” she added hastily,
“Let’s crack on then – tell all.”
Dee’s smile broadened. “Well, the biggest difference between police detectives and a psychological detective is that you analyse the crimes, the crime scene, the MO. You attempt to detect the crime.”
“So? Isn’t that what it’s all about?” Ted sounded puzzled.
“Well, yes – and no.” Dee replied. “A psychological detective attempts to detect the man – the criminal.”
“So what’s the difference?” Ted asked.
“Let me postulate,” She said.
“Get fined five pounds for doing that on a bus.” Groat said.
Dee looked at him sharply.
Groat hurriedly continued, “Sorry – do carry on.”
Dee frowned, appeared confused, but obviously determined to stay on track – “You go to the scene of a crime. You say, ‘this looks like the handiwork of John Smith,’ you find out if he’s out of prison at the moment and if he is, you get him in for questioning. With any luck you’ll get a confession and a fingerprint or two. Yes?”
Groat frowned. “Something like that. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, if he coughs it and it is actually his fingerprint. But what happens in the case of our serial – robber?”
“Robber; burglar.” Groat filled in.
“OK, whatever, you have no suspects and it’s an unknown MO.”
“Wouldn’t say that.” Ted said.
“But you can’t put a name to it, to him. If I say to you, ‘Who commits burglaries with this MO?’, you can’t come up with a name.”
“Not even after seven years.” Groat added.
That seemed to spark a sense of inevitability about the situation that imperceptibly nudged them towards a determination to actually do something, to move away from the juvenility of ‘my gang’s better than your gang’ and see if an open mind could create progress, where closed minds and old fashioned methods were failing.
Ever since Ted was first landed with his project and Groat had told him how things really stood, he likened the experience to swimming in treacle, with the added distraction of someone occasionally poking him in the eye with a sharp stick, or belting him around the earhole with a rounders bat. He was starting to feel cautiously optimistic, when Groat spoke again.
“Course, there’s two very big problems with all this.”
Ted and Dee looked intently at him.
“By telling you about this,” Groat gestured towards the pile of documentation Ted had brought with him, “by allowing you access to this information, Ted would be – we would both be contravening the Official Secrets Act.”
Neither spoke, the unasked question about the second ‘very big problem’ hung in the air between them.
“Secondly, if anything ever comes of it and we – ” he looked pointedly at Dee – “you – actually contribute to the arrest and conviction of the perpetrator, how do we explain it? What do we tell the job, the courts?”
“I can answer that,” she said brightly. “My gap year – I worked for the VSO people in Africa – a project sponsored by the Foreign Office. I signed the Official Secrets Act for that.”
“OK, but what do we tell people if you – we – achieve any degree of success?”
“Nothing.” She replied. “I haven’t begun to explain what it is I intend to do, or how I will go about it. Suffice to say for now, that any work I might do would be entirely behind the scenes. I will give you information in such a manner that you will be able to present it – to whoever you have to – in such a way that it could be an idea you have come up with. For example, you will be able to say, ‘Let’s look here for our suspect, or how about we look for this sort of person.’ O.K. for starters?”
“There’s actually something else, as well.” Groat said, uncharacteristically practical for once. “What do you get out of all this?”
“That’s easy.” She grinned. “When it’s all over and the dust has settled – one way or the other,” she added hastily,
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