Gina flinched as the office door burst open and Jacob entered. ‘Guv, we have a lead on Al. One of the George Street residents called in, she’s free to talk to us for the next hour before she starts work. She saw our victim on Tuesday of this week. He was arguing with a woman at the back of her house.’
‘Just what we needed.’ Gina smiled back at Jacob, grabbed her phone and stood. ‘Get your coat.’
‘One other thing, guv.’ Jacob half-turned back to the door.
‘What?’
‘Social media has gone ballistic with the news of this murder. They are blaming ghosts, druids, cult members and Satanists. The list goes on. O’Connor is keeping abreast of it all just in case our killer is relishing being the star of his or her own show.’
‘Great.’ Briggs stood and nudged past Jacob. ‘Keep me posted. I’ll see you both later.’ She wanted to call him back, tell him that she needed to speak to him about the letter, but Jacob was waiting.
Gina grabbed her coat from the back of her chair. She popped her phone in her pocket along with all the other rubbish that was building up inside it. ‘That’s all we need. All thanks to Lyndsey. I suppose at least with the public being panicked like this, everyone should be on their guard. It won’t hurt them to be vigilant. Let’s go and find out what our witness has to say. I want to know who Al was arguing with.’
Chapter Sixteen
I ring the bell that dangles from the wall of my cupboard. I stare at the photos on my wall and hit the bell. The ringing takes me back to a time I remember fondly. I fall into my seat and close my eyes as I think back to a time less complicated. I’m there. I can smell and hear everything, just as it was.
As I walk through the workshop, treading in wood shavings, sawdust and random screws, I feel a sense of peace. The click, click, clicking of a staple gun fills my head and the smell of varnish hits the back of my nostrils and throat. I can almost taste it.
I watch as my mother staples the lining into the casket, a deep red satin – like shiny blood. Bespoke and beautiful, she always says.
My mother thinks that the dead have souls and that they watch her while she works on their final resting place. She believes that these souls enter their coffins way before their bodies do. I shiver. I’ve never seen a soul, but you don’t see souls – at least I don’t think you do.
I stare up at the ceiling, imagining that the old man whose coffin my mum is working on is floating above. I trace a shadow with my finger, wondering if that’s him or if it’s just a shadow. It’s nothing. My mother is wrong, I’m sure of it.
I look out of the window and hope that darkness falls quickly. Once it falls, we go home.
The staple gun comes to a stop. ‘Beautiful. Dear Lord, bless this soul.’ She makes the sign of the cross and smiles as she knocks one of the bells that are suspended from a frame behind her.
I’m not sure how I feel about God, about anything spiritual but I copy her and make the sign of the cross. There must be something. There can’t be nothing. I don’t know how I feel about there being nothing. It scares me. My mother always repeats something from the Bible when she’s attempting to ward off evil. ‘Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.’ She smiles at the casket. ‘The devil won’t be devouring you, Mr Appleton.’
I lean back in my chair and stare at the photo in front of me. It’s time to go. I snatch the clapper from the bell, breaking it clean off with my gloved hands. It is now prepared. What do I believe? Like my mother, I believe the devil always prowls and he’s in us all, just waiting to be let out. I never thought I would open the door to the devil but there’s no going back now. I close my eyes and channel my inner roaring lion. I need strength. We are one and the same.
Chapter Seventeen
Gina walked slightly ahead of Jacob on the thin path along the bottom end of George Street. She’d only just managed to slot the car into a space on the road. The old-style lamps flickered as the trees swayed in the wind.
‘Here it is. Number ten.’ A chip wrapper blew past and settled in the gutter next to them.
The three-storey house looked like one fromAmityvillewith its protruding dormer style window coming from the roof. Everything about the house looked rickety and a torn net covered the front window. Gina peered in. There was a light coming from the back of the house.
Jacob knocked the gargoyle tapper. ‘Creepy.’
She had to agree. Ever since they’d found the body, everything felt creepy. A door banged, followed by another as a gust whipped up behind them. The neighbour’s gate continued to creak and crash against the post.
A woman with short, ginger hair and a wide smile answered the door – not what Gina expected. She’d half-expected Lily Munster to answer.
Gina held up her identification. ‘I’m DI Harte, this is DS Driscoll. Thank you for calling us Miss Hanson. May we come in?’
‘Call me Celia – and of course. I have to leave for work in fifteen minutes, so we’ll have to be quick.’ They followed the woman across the tiled floor into the long galley kitchen. An old range stood to one side and a stained Belfast sink faced the window. A stack of washed Pot Noodle containers rested on the draining board and were threatening to topple at any moment. The door at the end of the room stood ajar, exposing the Victorian-style downstairs bathroom.
Gina inhaled the smell of bubble bath mixed with bleach. ‘We’ll try not to keep you too long. You told one of our officers that you saw this man around the back of your house on Tuesday?’ Gina pulled the photo from her bag and held it up.
The woman nodded. ‘I didn’t think too much about it. We have a lot of problems around here so it was nothing unusual. There’s an old access road that runs at the back of this street and it eventually reaches the high street.’ Gina knew that to be the case. It was the same road where Gina had come across their victim, Al, only a few nights ago, although she’d bumped into him much further up. ‘Some people drive up it to park their cars out the back and access garages, others dump things. I keep a look out. We’re sick of people leaving old mattresses and bin bags by our houses so we take it in turns to keep watch. It was my turn on Tuesday night, that’s when I saw him.’
Jacob pointed to the photo. ‘This is the man you definitely saw. Is that correct?’
She nodded, her chin doubling a little as she scrutinised the photo. ‘Hang on.’ She opened a drawer stuffed full of oddments and pulled out a pair of glasses before placing them on. ‘The photo isn’t good but it’s definitely the same man who was outside my back gate. I also took a photo from my bedroom when he was here. You can tell by his stance and what you can see of his features.’ The woman pulled her phone from her pocket and scrolled until she found what she was looking for. She held her phone up.
