DI Fincher had strongly urged Fiona to take up her offer of staying in a police safe house for the next few days. Though she was terrified and in shock at the thought that someone could be out to murder her, Fiona didn’t want any special treatment. She declined the offer and told DI Fincher to give it to one of the other twenty-two Fiona Sharps that lived in the area. The detective was not happy about this act of reckless selflessness. She had tried to persuade Fiona to at least stay in a hotel, at the force’s expense. Again, Fiona refused. In the end, they came to a compromise. Fiona would stay with Partial Sue, but before that could happen, DI Fincher would have to inspect the security of Partial Sue’s house to make sure it was up to scratch. Safety Planning had to be satisfied before the detective would sign off on Fiona staying there, which meant going around the house, checking it for any weak points.
Having proudly showed off her window locks, Partial Sue moved on to her smart, composite front door that she’d had fitted last year. Holding it wide open, letting in all the cold night air, she began taking the detective through its sophisticated features, including the less important ones, such as pointing out that its subtle shade of blue-grey was referred to as “pebble” in the sales brochure, leaving Fiona to deduce that there might be a point when the detective would have to include that in her report, should it get kicked in by the Domino Killer. Hopefully with Partial Sue’s level of security it wouldn’t come to that, plus the Domino Killer had never needed to kick in any doors. They’d all opened like magic without a struggle.
A metallic wrenching sound dragged Fiona from her uneasy thoughts. Partial Sue repeatedly yanked the door handle up and down to show off its sturdy five-point locking mechanism. Three chunky deadbolts snapped in and out, along with two rather savage-looking hooks top and bottom that were designed to grip the door frame and never let go.
“Nothing’s coming through that,” Partial Sue boasted.
“Another one ticked off the list,” DI Fincher noted.
Hugging herself, Fiona watched the two of them, her skin growing colder, and not because of the chilly night air blasting in from outside. Her whole body had been enshrouded in shock ever since DI Fincher had informed her that the name Fiona Sharp was scratched into the domino found on the last victim. Up until that point, crime had been an abstract thing that only existed in the pages of the books she’d read and in the box sets she’d watched. Or it happened to other people. Now it was tangible and terrifying and, worst of all, on her doorstep. Fiona wondered if she was making the right decision staying here instead of a police safe house, where her protection would be guaranteed. She knew she’d feel guilty about taking up a spot that another Fiona Sharp might need. Plus, she’d prefer being somewhere familiar, somewhere she felt at home. Fiona had protested when Partial Sue had first suggested staying with her, worried that she might be putting both their lives at risk. But her hardy friend, who had never had a day off work sick and had been known to come into work with broken toes and a dislocated thumb, had waved her concerns away as twaddlish nonsense.
She’d been to Partial Sue’s house on many occasions and knew it well. The compact two-bedroom mid-terrace was huddled on a tight, congested Southbourne Road with residents-only parking out front, another handy deterrent. Anyone with murder on their mind would have one hell of a job finding a spot. Unless they opted for the park ’n’ ride scheme — hardly likely to be the chosen getaway vehicle for fiendish killers.
Inside, an organised clutter ensued, not unlike the storeroom in the charity shop. Newspapers were stacked everywhere, jostling for space with dog-eared, half-finished sudoku and crossword puzzle books. Her staircase had been commandeered as storage for all her hardback crime novels, which formed a trail up the stairs, piled on the left-hand edge of each tread.
When DI Fincher had arrived, Partial Sue had apologised profusely that she had not had time to clear up since this morning — a little white lie, as it always looked in this state, whatever the time of day. Hoping to distract the detective from her muddle of a house, Partial Sue had been quick to mention that it only had one point of entry, a great benefit from a security perspective. She was also hoping the DI would be impressed, as she had referred to it as a “point of entry”, rather than a front door as everyone else did. To a self-confessed crime geek, having a real-life detective in her humble abode giving her security advice was all her birthdays rolled into one and covered in glitter, or icing sugar if that option were available. From the moment DI Fincher had set foot in her property, Partial Sue had hung off her every word.
“Okay, you can close the front door now,” DI Fincher said. “I’m satisfied with your home security. The overall level is good.”
Partial Sue obeyed. “Oh, thank you, Detective.”
“One suggestion I would make to improve it—”
“Yes, yes.” Partial Sue couldn’t wait to hear.
“Install a doorbell camera, as soon as you can.”
“Right you are. Excellent idea. Duly noted.”
DI Fincher turned her attentions to Fiona. “How are you doing?”
Fiona forced out a reluctant smile. “As good as anyone who has a serial killer after them.”
“Don’t worry. This is a good place to stay. The police safe house would be better, but I’m satisfied with the setup here. There’s two of you. Plus, you have your dog. A dog is a great deterrent.” After a beat she asked, “Can we sit down somewhere?”
Partial Sue darted towards the lounge. “Follow me.” She quickly did a round of the whole room, tidying and shifting books and newspapers out of the way so all three of them could sit.
DI Fincher perched on the edge of an easy chair, teetering piles of books beside her. “Fiona, I have to ask you the same question I did when I first spoke to you about Sarah Brown’s death. Do you have any enemies? Anyone who would want to threaten your life?”
Fiona wanted to say Malorie, after she’d given her and Partial Sue lifetime bans from the community centre, but she wasn’t relevant anymore, not after the last victim had been killed around the same time that they had left her little disinfectant-smelling flat-roofed kingdom. She shook her head.
“I need you to think hard about this. None of the other victims had anything in common, but you knew Sarah Brown. Is there anyone who may have had a problem with either of you?”
Fiona foraged through her fear-addled brain, desperate to make a connection with someone, anyone who might have had it in for the two of them. “I’m sorry. I can’t think of anyone. I usually get on well with everybody.”
“Well, not everybody,” Partial Sue muttered. “What about Sophie Haverford?”
DI Fincher shot her a questioning look. “This is the manager from the Cats Alliance across the road.”
“Yes,” Fiona replied. “Although I wouldn’t say we’re enemies. It’s more like an unfriendly rivalry. She’s irritating and annoying, but that’s it.”
DI Fincher thought for a moment. “When I questioned her, she said the box containing the knife had been outside your shop, not hers.”
Fiona shook her head. “Not true. I saw her carry it across the road and dump it outside mine.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because she’s a cow,” Partial Sue replied.
DI Fincher, having met and questioned Sophie Haverford, appeared to be suppressing a knowing smile. “Go on, Fiona.”
“I don’t know if she knew the knife was in there or not. If I’m honest, I’d say she was being cheeky.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Partial Sue interrupted.
“Cheeky?” DI Fincher asked.
“You know, like sneaking rubbish into a neighbour’s bin when yours is full. It’s rude but not serious.”
“I see. And does she do this a lot, dump her unwanted donations outside yours?”
Fiona shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe she’s been doing it for years and that’s the first time I’ve caught her.”
DI Fincher began scribbling in her notebook. Both Fiona and Partial Sue craned their necks, almost cricking them, keen to spy any conclusions the detective was making about their nemesis. The second DI Fincher looked up, they snapped them back as if they had been doing nothing. The detective moved on to a different matter. “Last time we spoke, you were doing your own little investigation of Sarah Brown’s murder.”
“That’s right.”
“Have you told anyone about what you were doing?”
“Er, no, not really,” Fiona stuttered.
“Have you mentioned her murder, or any of the murders to anyone? Given them details?”
“We’ve been very discreet,” Partial Sue said.
“Haven’t mentioned any murder,” added Fiona. “Not that I can remember.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Fiona replied. “Why?”
“I didn’t want to mention this because I didn’t want to add to your fears, but as you’ve declined the offer of the safe house, I feel I must. There’s a slim chance that you may have made yourself a target by investigating Sarah Brown’s murder.”
The blood drained from Fiona’s face.