Fiona shivered, cold sweat forming in the gap between her shoulder blades. She hadn’t thought of this. Had she inadvertently put herself on the killer’s radar? Fired a flare saying, “I’ve decided to poke my nose into things that don’t concern me; you should kill me next.”
Partial Sue fidgeted in her seat. “If that’s the case, why can’t we have an officer outside to guard Fiona?”
“Firstly, we don’t know if the killer is targeting Fiona specifically,” DI Fincher replied. “Like I said, it’s only a slim possibility, especially if no one knows about your investigation. Secondly, I have a list of twenty-two Fiona Sharps that need protecting, some more vulnerable than others, but far too many to protect with the limited resources at my disposal. I do not have the option nor the authority to take officers off the street to guard them. What I do have is space in a safe house. That means I have to prioritise my list of Fionas. Right now, you are the top of that list, which is why I strongly recommend you take the offer of the safe house.”
Fiona shook her head. Though she was still trembling with fear, there was an obstinate and stubborn side of her that refused to let this idiot with his dominoes dictate how she lived her life. She’d stay at Partial Sue’s, but that was as far as she was prepared to go.
Fatigue came over DI Fincher’s face. “Fiona, once I leave, the offer of the safe house will go to the next Fiona on the list.”
“Give it to her,” said Fiona. “I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re sure.”
“The only reason Fiona would be top of the killer’s list is if we were getting close,” Partial Sue remarked.
“That’s correct,” DI Fincher replied. “Which leads me on to my next important question. Have you made any breakthroughs that you haven’t told me about? Something that may have made the killer take notice?”
Fiona swallowed hard, hoping to mask the new terror she felt, and squash the unbearable idea that she could have brought this on herself. “But that’s just it, we haven’t found anything. We thought we had, but it turned out to be a dead end.”
“Tell me about that,” DI Fincher said.
Fiona gave the detective a condensed version of their investigation into Malorie, her motivation and the missing dominoes from the community centre — leaving out the part where Partial Sue stole them, of course — and how June’s online name also matched the numbers on the dominoes.
“Trouble is, it all came to nothing,” Partial Sue finished. “Sharon Miller’s time of death put the kibosh on them being suspects. We were with them roughly around that time, give or take ten minutes. Certainly not enough time for either of them to have popped off to Poole and back and do the dirty deed.”
“Okay, that’s good,” DI Fincher said.
“It is?” Fiona spluttered.
“Yes. I’d already dismissed Malorie and June from our initial inquiries. Neither of them was in the area when Sarah Brown was murdered. But I’ll admit I did not know about June’s online profile name matching the numbers on the dominoes, though that’s probably because I also ruled her out at a very early stage.”
Partial Sue uttered a disappointed, “Oh.”
Fiona had never felt more like an amateur. The police had removed Malorie and June from their inquiries early, simply by verifying their whereabouts at the times of the murders. Something they should have done from the outset, instead of their clumsy, toe-stubbing investigation of the community centre. A rookie error. Before Fiona could wallow in the self-pity of her own incompetence, DI Fincher pulled her out of it. “However, you’ve just given me something that I wasn’t aware of, something quite crucial that puts a different complexion on things.”
“We have?” Partial Sue said.
“The killer has possibly tried to set up two different people as the murderer, June and Malorie. It’s too much of a coincidence otherwise. So I need to look at who Malorie and June may have annoyed.”
“Good luck with that,” Partial Sue remarked.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I can’t speak for June — she’s miserable, but everyone loves her, thinks she’s a saint. However, Malorie manages to annoy everyone.”
“How come?”
“She’s bolshie and bullish,” Partial Sue said. “A bulldozer in Barbour. Doesn’t take no for an answer. Everyone’s scared of her.”
“I see. And what about June? You said everyone loves her.”
“June’s sort of the same but the opposite,” Fiona replied. “She can’t say no to anyone. Suffers in silence. Resents running around after her neighbours but won’t show it to their faces.”
“I see. I will look into these two further, might be a lead in there somewhere.” DI Fincher scribbled away in her notebook again then snapped it shut. “Okay, I have all of your phone numbers including the landline to this property. Make sure your mobiles are fully charged and there’s plenty of credit on them. If not, I can provide credit. I can’t stress how important it is that all your phones are in good working order. They could save your life.”
“We’re both on contracts,” Partial Sue informed her. “And my landline is all paid up every month by direct debit.”
“Good. They are literally your lifeline. Now I’ve put an electronic flag on this address and your mobile numbers, so any 999 calls you make will be given top priority, and I’ll be instantly notified. If you do call, just make sure it is urgent. We’ve had people in your position calling 999 to say they’ve run out of milk for their tea. I know some people would consider that an emergency, but please only call if you believe your life is threatened, otherwise it could reduce the chance of another Fiona Sharp getting the help she needs.”
“Understood,” Fiona said.
“One other thing.” DI Fincher pulled a device from her pocket that appeared to be an old-style mobile phone, except a little smaller and fatter, and it had a large button in the centre. She handed it to Fiona, who regarded it with grim curiosity. “That is a personal GPS alarm. Keep it on you at all times. If you get any trouble, hit the button. It’ll ping us your whereabouts so we can respond. Again, like the phones, only use it for a real emergency. Not if you need a lift back from the supermarket.” DI Fincher produced a sheet of paper and handed it to Fiona. “I also need you to sign this official threat-to-life document. It’s called an Osman warning.”
“Like Richard Osman?” Partial Sue said. “I like him. Thursday Murder Club and Pointless.”
“Not that Osman,” DI Fincher replied. “Ahmet Osman was shot dead by Paul Paget-Lewis in 1988. Police had information that Paget-Lewis was a danger to Osman but didn’t warn him. Now we issue Osman warnings whenever we can to stop it happening again. Fiona, you need to sign it, please. Just to say that you’ve listened and understood my suggestions to keep you safe while your life is possibly in danger.”
Fiona shuddered at those last six words. The most trouble she’d ever been in was attending a safe driver course after being caught by a speed camera. Compared to that, this seemed like she’d fallen into a parallel universe. It was all unreal and uncomfortable, jarring with the genteel life she’d built for herself. She took the document and tried to read it but couldn’t get past the first sentence. She’d been having trouble concentrating since she’d first heard that someone had scratched her name on a domino and left it on a corpse.
“I don’t have a pen.”
Before Fiona could blink, DI Fincher had handed her the pen she had been writing with. Fiona took it, signed the form and handed the two items back.
DI Fincher slotted them both into her bag. “I’d better get going. I’ve got five more homes to check tonight. DI Thomas and the rest of my team are out doing the others.”
Before she could get up, Partial Sue asked, “Is there anything significant you can tell us about the case?”
The detective hesitated. Clearly there was.