‘Best if I tackle this one,’ I announced loud enough for them to hear. Then I stripped off my jacket to reveal the tight t-shirt I wore beneath.
You would too if you looked like me. Trust me on this.
Making sure to flex and look dramatic, I paid the young ladies no attention at all but made it clear I was about to kick my way into the house by calling out, ‘Don’t worry, Granny. We’re coming!’
The ladies were watching me. I didn’t have to check to make sure - all women watch me, it’s just one of those things I learned to accept a long time ago. They were watching me, and their hearts were going pitter-patter as their eyes picked out the stark outline of muscle moving under the single layer of thin cotton covering my torso.
Having no doubt the door would require extra welly if I were going to burst the lock with one kick, I thrust off in a charge. Three paces later, I swivelled on my left foot, brought my right up and drove it through the door about two inches above the handle.
Except I didn’t.
I bounced off and felt like I broke my leg in about eight places.
The door didn’t shift so much as a hair’s breadth, but I was right that the ladies were watching me.
I could tell by their laughter.
The right thing to do at this juncture was deliver a cool line about them not making doors like that anymore, but I kept my mouth shut for fear I might squeak if I attempted to speak.
Mercifully, the ladies decided they were getting cold watching the muscular buffoon who was now lying on the ground wishing he’d let Basic have first dibs after all.
‘Dat didn’t work, Ben,’ Basic pointed out helpfully.
I staggered back to my feet, still unable to speak.
‘I fink ders someone coming,’ Basic commented just before the house’s outside light came on.
‘Won’t be a minute, love,’ came a wobbly old-lady voice from behind the door.
We could hear someone grunting with something heavy inside. Was there something behind the door?
The familiar sound of a lock tumbling preceded the door opening.
‘You’re supposed to text when you are on your way, Jane,’ wobbled the voice. Then the door opened enough for the lady inside to look out. ‘Oh,’ she gasped upon seeing Basic looming and me rubbing some life back into my right leg.
Before she could slam the door shut again, I gave her a friendly smile and wave. ‘I’m Ben, this is James,’ I indicated Basic who did his usual goofy grin that always made him look harmless. ‘We’re friends of Jane. Can we come in?’
Granny looked rightly uncertain about agreeing to my request. ‘She’s not here,’ Granny told us. ‘Maybe you should call her.’ Jane’s grandmother wore house slippers and a long, thick winter coat which she held closed with one hand at the top rather than do all the buttons up just to answer the door.
Her hair was getting thin and had turned to an almost pure white, but there was plenty of it. Either freshly permed or naturally curly, I suspected the former to be true, it made her head look like a snow-covered novelty microphone.
I wanted to deliver our news and have a chat with Jane’s grandmother inside the house, not in the street. Not just because of the cold outside, I had serious concerns about delivering my bad news and what it might do to the old dear’s heart.
However, faced with little option, I said, ‘Her phone is in her handbag which is in my car. I found it in her car along with her laptop and other things. We believe the Sandman has her.’
The old lady gasped and gripped her coat more tightly to her neck.
‘You’ve heard that name before,’ I stated. It was clear from the way she gasped that she understood the significance of my claim.
She took a step back. ‘You’d better come in, boys.’
Amanda. Research at the Office. Friday, December 23rd 1652hrs
Rightly or wrongly, Jane had not entered any details in the file, hardcopy or electronic, by which we could contact Karen Gilbert. I hoped Tempest would get what he needed from the couple in Chartham Hatch, but would try to solve the problem here too if I could.
That Karen, the Sandman’s most recent target that we knew of, could provide us with any helpful information was debatable. However, she presented a worthwhile target for our efforts and we needed to speak to her. If she were able to identify the Sandman from a picture, it might prove pivotal.
I was working in my office using my PC while Alice and Jagjit were next door using the computer in Tempest’s office.
I left them to it, compiling a list of likely people who might be able to lead me to Karen’s current whereabouts. I had already tried her listed place of work only to discover she quit three weeks ago. I had to feel sorry for the woman. She’d been to the police and reported her night time home invader only to have her claims dismissed. As a result, she was in hiding, sleeping on someone’s spare bed probably, and had no job.
She had several living relatives including a sister in Dudley. I started there, but the woman I got through to was both evasive and rude. My guess was that Karen had briefed her to not give out any details so it was no great surprise when the phone went dead in my ear.
Usually, when we have a task like this it falls to Jane. She has a natural skill that allows her to find details via the internet the rest of us might never uncover. I knew she used social media to track people down a lot of the time. Once inside
