‘We’re going to go now,’ I announced turning around to face the door. ‘The rest of the team are working on identifying who the Sandman is. Did Jane ever discuss that with you? Did she ever come up with a hypothesis for who it could be?’
It felt like a long shot, but also entirely possible that Jane would chat about such things with her gran while they ate their dinner or did the washing up.
‘No, love, sorry. She did talk about it, but that was because the case was frustrating her. She said it had to be an older person.’ Granny’s eyes rolled up toward her skull as she dredged her brain for more information but came up blank. ‘I think she believed he was someone who avoided social media and was probably killing the women because of something that happened to him many years ago, something traumatic. She could only guess what that might have been, but those books she was reading all pointed to him recreating the act or trying to compensate for what happened.
Gran backed away from the door so Basic and I could leave, but as she started back along the corridor, she paused, remembering something.
‘Jane gave me a number to call. She said if anything happened to her, I should make sure someone called this number. Now where did I put that?’
My eyes flared. Would this be something of use?
Following her as she went back to the stairs and started down them, I asked, ‘Do you remember who the number was for?’
‘Hmmm? Oh, yes. It was Karen something or other.’
Tempest. Karen Gilbert’s House. Friday, December 23rd 1730hrs
A call from Amanda diverted my return to the office and sent me shooting past Rochester on a northward trajectory. I hadn’t been to Karen Gilbert’s burned-out house in New Ash Green but though I had no idea where it was, Amanda was able to give me the address from Jane’s file and Hilary used the satellite navigation on his phone to get us there.
I pulled up outside the house and shot my cuff to check the time. The street was alight with Christmas. At least fifty percent of the homes were bedecked with lights outside. There were fancy ornaments, lights in trees, lights on roofs. Even the more modestly decorated houses bore lights in their windows where the Christmas tree filled the gap between the curtains.
I found myself filled with a desire to be tucked up in my own place. It was sort of decorated, the lack of effort attributable to how hectic the last few weeks had been. I could be snuggled on the couch with Amanda and the dogs, watching an old movie while ingesting unnecessary calories.
It sounded heavenly, but out of reach until we found Jane. Remembering the man sitting to my left in the Lotus’s passenger seat, I said, ‘You ought to be at home with your kids.’
He didn’t argue, but said, ‘What we want isn’t always possible. Nor is it always the right thing to do.’
I had to agree with him. Opening my door, I said, ‘Let’s get this done.’
In horrible contrast to all the other homes in sight, Karen Gilbert’s house was covered in a tarpaulin where the fire had eaten away part of the roof. No work had started by the look of it, the house abandoned as she fled to get away from the serial killer stalking her.
No doubt she was having great fun going through the process of claiming on her insurance policy to get the house repaired, but even once liveable, I doubted she would want to move back home unless the Sandman was caught.
That was my job. Self-appointed, but my job, nevertheless.
Out of the car, I looked to my left and right and picked a house at random. Her neighbours might know something, but I doubted it. I was here to get a feel for the case as much as anything else. Jane’s investigation was never completed, the client dropping us when she ran away. In hindsight, I should have teamed up with Jane to tackle this sooner. Something else always got in the way though. There was the werewolf case, and then the crazy ex-soldiers.
The Sandman slipped down my priority list and this is where my lack of vision landed us.
I knocked on the door of Karen’s neighbour to the left and stood back to wait. A light came on moments later, illuminating the hallway behind the front door and it opened to reveal a woman in her early thirties. She had a baby hooked under one arm and bags under her eyes. She glanced at me, then beyond me to Hilary, who gave her a wave and made a face at the baby, and then back to me.
‘Terribly sorry to bother you,’ I started. ‘I’m not selling anything. I’m helping your neighbour, Karen. Can I beg a few moments of your time?’
The neighbour’s name was Katrina Farthing. She remembered Karen and the night of the fire vividly. Karen had been her neighbour since Katrina moved in two years ago, but they never exchanged more than a few words to be sociable when they passed each other. Katrina could not comment on Karen’s social life – boyfriends, friends, anything that might have been of use in fact, and she had no idea what might be happening to her neighbour’s mail.
My hope that I might uncover something bore no fruit and after a couple of minutes it became clear the lady just wanted to close her door and go back to whatever she had been doing.
‘One last question,’ I begged. ‘I believe Karen has a cat. Do you know who looked after it for her if she ever went away or couldn’t get home at the end of the day?’
Finally, I asked a question she could answer. ‘That
