Hengist. I’d seen the name in Jane’s notes earlier. I thanked the young mum and wished her a merry Christmas as she closed the door.
Hilary and I jogged to the neighbour’s house on the other side, closing Katrina’s gate and opening that of Mr Hengist while being swift about it because time continued to dwindle.
There were lights on in the house, and around the edge of the curtain in the main bow window next to the front door, came the flickering motion one gets from the TV.
The door swung inward mere moments after I knocked, the person the other side yanking it wide in a rush of sudden movement.
The man on the other side was somewhere around sixty and about five feet nine inches tall. He wore a suit, as if just in from work but not a sharp one that a lawyer or a business leader might wear; his looked a decade old and was being worn because work policy dictated he do so.
His hair was thinning and was cut down to bristles so the stubble on his chin was the same length as that on his head. It was a forgettable face. There was a ring on his finger but no sense from the décor inside that he lived with a woman.
Curiously, his eyes were bugging from his head to make him look panicked and for a moment I thought he was going to slam the door.
To calm his nerves, regardless of what might have given them rise, I gave him the same welcome smile I offered Katrina.
‘Hello, my name is,’
‘Tempest Michaels,’ the man provided, effectively halting me mid-sentence.
‘Um, yes,’ I agreed, a little off-balance. ‘This is my associate, Brian Clinton.’ I indicated the form standing in my shadow.
‘Sorry,’ the man’s face became a smile and he thrust out his hand. ‘I recognize you from the papers, that’s all. I’m Harry. Harry Hengist.’ He was still holding my hand but let it go now that he had said his name. ‘I have … I guess you could call it an amateur interest in the paranormal. I have had for years. It’s all so fascinating and enticing to believe there are devious and magical creatures living amongst us. I’m going to guess you are here to follow up on that thing with my neighbour a few weeks ago. Terrible business.’
‘That’s right,’ I agreed again. That he knew who I was and what I wanted was going to speed things up. ‘I’m hoping to ask a few questions.’
‘Of course,’ he encouraged. ‘Fire away. I take it that blonde woman was one of your investigators.’
‘Blonde woman?’ I questioned before realising he meant Jane. ‘Oh, yes. That’s Jane Butterworth. I’m picking up where she left off.’
‘Saucy little thing she is,’ the man commented unnecessarily. ‘I normally go for brunettes, but there was something about her, you know. Did she tell you she tackled me and pinned me to the carpet?’
I had been about to fire a question at him in a bid to alter the course of the conversation away from Jane and her sauciness, but I needed to hear about her getting physical with Karen’s neighbour.
Frowning with my surprise, I said, ‘No. How did that come to happen?’
Mr Hengist chuckled. ‘I was in Karen’s house – she had a parcel come to my place by mistake and I helped her carry it in. Jane saw me, didn’t know who I was, and the next thing I knew, I was getting friendly with the carpet.’ He laughed at his own choice of phrase.
I would ask Jane about it when I had the chance to, but it wasn’t pertinent right now.
‘Mr Hengist,’ I started.
‘Harry,’ he cut over the top of me to insist.
I carried on regardless, ‘I need to track Karen down, has she given you a forwarding address for her mail or any way to contact her?’
I got an apologetic face in response. ‘No, sorry. Nothing like that. We were just neighbours. I don’t know what she is doing about her mail.’
‘Do you have a spare key to her house?’ I had to raise a hand to reassure him when I saw the change in expression. ‘I’m not here to accuse anyone of anything. I’m just trying to establish a few base facts.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t have a key. Maybe one of the other people here does. Have you tried Katrina on the other side?’
I didn’t answer his question. ‘At the time of Jane’s investigation and the fire that broke out, did you see anyone new in the street? Is there anyone who has moved in recently or anyone you ever saw outside Karen’s house?’
Again, Harry shook his head. ‘No. I wish I could help you. This is a quiet neighbourhood. Nothing ever happens here. I don’t even remember the last time I heard about a burglary. I knew nothing about Karen’s situation either. I take it the Sandman is still at large?’
I reacted instantly, the signal reaching my muscles and telling them to move without my brain getting involved at any point. In a flash, I was inside his house and had Mr Hengist pinned to the wall.
‘How do you know about the Sandman?’ I raged in his face. The suspicion that Karen’s attacker had to be someone close to her, either in her life or geographically had remained with me. Now I had the creepy guy next door talking about the Sandman when I was damned certain Karen wouldn’t have told him about it. How did he know it? It certainly hadn’t been in the papers.
Struggling for breath as my right forearm pressed against his throat, he wanted to say something, but I wasn’t waiting for him to get his wits back.
A swift leg sweep took
