Partial Sue became sheepish, almost reluctant to say. “We keep our minds busy.”
“How?”
“We keep investigating.”
Fiona squirmed uncomfortably on the sofa, nearly spilling her tea and disturbing Simon Le Bon, who’d been drifting off into a snooze. “I’m not sure I want to do that. Not after what DI Fincher said. I’ve probably put myself in this position, and the other Fionas, by investigating the murders in the first place.”
“We don’t know that for sure, and like I said, that doesn’t make any difference now. If you’re on the killer’s radar, nothing can change that, but we can still catch them. Get back on the horse and all that. Or we could just sit here and worry. But doing something is always better than doing nothing.”
“That’s easy for you to say. Your name’s not been scratched on a domino. And what are we going to do that we haven’t done already?” Fiona knew Partial Sue was right, but she didn’t want to admit it. Keeping busy and staying occupied was always the right course of action — now more than ever.
Partial Sue scooched forward until she perched on the edge of her seat. “We have new information. Another domino left on the last victim. Another number, a one. That’s got to be worth putting into a codebreaking website to see what happens. Aren’t you curious?”
Slowly rotating her cup of tea with both hands, Fiona mulled it over. She knew it made sense. Sitting around feeling sorry for herself was only going to make her feel worse. The downward spiral loomed, where the only thing waiting for her at the bottom was It. Besides, she was dying to know what the new set of numbers would throw up. “Let’s do it.”
“That’s the spirit.” Partial Sue grabbed her phone. “I’ve got the codebreaking sites saved on my favourites. Here goes.” She typed in the numbers. Two, one, one, one, one. Her face dropped.
Fiona came over and sat beside her, much to the annoyance of Simon Le Bon, who was none too pleased that their snuggling had ceased without warning.
“Nothing,” said Partial Sue. “Apart from what we had before. Just a longer version of ‘baaaa’. I don’t understand it.”
“What about doing a general Google search for the number?” Fiona suggested.
Partial Sue typed the numbers into the search engine. The results were an eclectic collection of meaningless hits, ranging from a zip code for an area in Baltimore in Maryland, to an industrial code of practice for oil extraction. They investigated them all, digging deep into the details of each one. Nothing seemed relevant and no matter how hard they tried or what theory they concocted, any connection, no matter how tenuous, refused to link itself to older people who happened to be offline being murdered in Southbourne.
Fiona couldn’t think of anything to say, apart from an unhelpful, “Well, at least it’s not the angel number thing anymore. Maybe there’s no code to be broken.”
“Then why go to all the trouble of leaving a domino on each victim’s body?”
“To give us the name of the next victim?”
“Could’ve done that with a Post-it Note. Although, the Post-it Note Killer doesn’t have the same ring to it.”
The initial enthusiasm from moments earlier popped and deflated. At least the distraction of disappointment had taken Fiona’s mind off being murdered. It had also cleared it, allowing her to think straight. “I have a better idea,” she said. “Websites and Google searches are never going to be as good as a human being. My great-nephew Dan is studying Further Maths at Surrey University. He’s always loved puzzles, even as a little boy. Why don’t I phone him? Set him this as a little task.”
Partial Sue jiggled with excitement. “That’s a great idea.” Her jiggling ended abruptly. “Oh, wait. What time is it?”
“Five past nine.”
“That’s not too late to call, is it? I have a strict no-calls-after-nine-o-clock policy, both for making them and answering them. Well, apart from the present situation we’re in.”
“He’s a student. It’s never too late for anything.”
“DI Fincher told us to stay off the landline.”
“We’ll be quick, and we’ve got our mobiles if she really needs to contact us.”
“Okay, do it.”
Fiona called Dan and asked him if he could examine the domino numbers. Thrilled at the challenge and the welcome break from coursework, he accepted and promised to call straight back as soon as he had something.
“What shall we do while we wait?” Partial Sue asked.
“How about looking into the game of dominoes itself? We haven’t touched on that.”
“I can’t imagine there’s much to it. It’s not exactly a complicated game.”
Twenty minutes later and they realised how wrong they were. Like chess, it had its own vast terminology, opening plays and finishing strategies.
“Well, for a serial killer, dominoes is a rich vein for sinister names,” Partial Sue remarked. “Listen to this. Putting two matching dominoes together is called a hook, and dominoes not in play are called sleepers. And if you play on your own without a partner, you’re called a cut-throat.”
“How about this,” Fiona replied. “Dominoes are also called bones because they were originally made from bone. And the pile you pick your dominoes from is called the boneyard.”
Partial Sue winced. “That is sinister. Perhaps the killer is creating his own boneyard. A domino set made out of dead people, sleepers. Three so far, another twenty-five to go.”
Fiona looked up. “Jeez. I didn’t think of it like that. What a terrifying thought. Have you found anything else?”
“A few things. The last domino, a one with a blank, is called an ace, and there are names for every type of move. For instance, the first double put down is called a spinner.”
“Sounds like a folk trio,” Fiona remarked.
“You’re thinking of The Spinners, and they were a quartet.”
“Weren’t they on Morecombe & Wise once?”
“Don’t think so. I remember seeing The Beatles on there, way back in the sixties.”
“I used to love Morecombe & Wise.”
“Wasn’t Christmas without them.”
“Oh my gosh, yes! Sitting on the sofa, Christmas evening, the whole family in a food coma and Morecombe & Wise on TV. Proper telly.”
Before either of them had the chance to be enveloped by that softest of comfort blankets, nostalgia, Fiona’s phone rang, making them jump. She was relieved to see that it was her great-nephew calling her back.
“Hi, Dan, I’ve put you on speakerphone. My friend Sue is with me.”
“Hello, Dan,” Partial Sue said loudly, worried that he wouldn’t hear her. “Thank you for helping us.”
“How did you get on with the numbers?”
Dan cleared his throat. “Well, firstly, thing is with numbers is that any given bunch can have a pattern to them. That’s the beauty of maths, you can find patterns everywhere if you play with the numbers in different ways — adding, subtracting, square roots, et cetera. Even with this small set, you can get tons of patterns.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Yes and no. It’s a case of quantity not quality. I can make the numbers do lots of things but getting any meaning out of them is a different matter, apart from the most obvious pattern, which I’m sure you’ve already spotted.”
Partial Sue and Fiona stared at each other. Maybe he was referring to the angel number, although that wasn’t exactly a pattern of numbers, more of a numerological symbol. Plus, it wasn’t relevant anymore, not since the last domino had been added. “Er, what’s that then?” Fiona asked.
Dan cleared his throat. “Okay, so if you add together the two numbers on each domino, you get a sequence of three numbers. First domino has two and a one on it. Add them together, it gives you three. If I do the same with the second domino, add one and one together, that gives you two. And the third domino is one and a blank. If we assume the blank is zero, that gives us just one. You get a sequence of three, two, one — a countdown.”
Fiona felt the floor drop away from her and her head spin. How did they miss this? It was so simple, so obvious and so terrifying. She had been scared before but now her heart and her head had been ensnared by absolute panic. A countdown? To what? Countdowns always ended in something big and spectacular — or in this case, diabolical. Would this be the killer’s crescendo, rounding off their killing spree with something imaginative and inventive with Fiona at the centre of it? The fear of what was in store petrified her. She couldn’t move or speak.
Dan broke the silence. “I’ll keep trying. Test out lots of different things, but it’s ‘how long is a piece of string?’ And if I do find something, there’s no guarantee it’ll make any sense. Is that okay?”
Fiona remained silent, eyes wide with shock. Partial Sue had to speak for her. “That’s great, Dan. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, Sue. Bye, Auntie.”
“B-bye,” Fiona managed to croak. As soon as she’d hung up, she shook her head rapidly from side to side, a metronome of oncoming madness. “This is bad. Very bad. Countdowns always lead to something big. Domino Killer’s got something big and nasty in store for me. I just know it.”
Partial Sue tried to soothe and calm her friend as best she could. Not her greatest strength. “It could just mean our killer’s winding things down. To their last victim, I mean.”
“That would be me.”
“We don’t know that, Fiona.”
Simon Le Bon gave an impromptu grumble, as if he disagreed with them.
They ignored him and were about to continue when he raised his head, all alert and vigilant. He grumbled again, louder this time. Both his ears pricked up and he let out a long, low growl.
From outside they heard a noise. A biscuit being squished had never sounded so menacing.