The drink and the Kit-Kat all but forgotten, Vincent returned to the text in the main body of the email:
If you cross the man in black, there are consequences: a price to be paid. If you need any further proof, check out what happened in Batley.
You crossed me once, Vincent.
I’m going to give you a fighting chance to see if you can work out who I am, what I’m doing, and when your time is up. To quote your favourite saying, one piece at a time, and you’ll have everything you need.
Clue No:1 The sum of the year adds up to 20. Three people were involved: a sixty-year-old widow, an eighteen-year-old mill-hand and a nineteen-year-old cloth finisher. Seems like you couldn’t trust women even then. Someone didn’t because she ended up with a blade through her. Sergeant English solved it. Can you?
Clue No:2 The sum of the year adds up to 18. A man found dead in a shop doorway. The mystery went unsolved. That would never do for you, would it?
Clue No:3 is the key to your destiny, Vincent, or perhaps I should say demise. The sum of the year adds up to 21 and involves an engine driver with the Midland Railway Company. Do you know what happened?
Anyway, you’re the detective: see if you can work things out.
How good is your memory? Do the names Edwin and Elizabeth Lascelles ring any bells?
I’m watching Vincent. You’ll never know when, or where, but I’ll always be there. As I was today, listening to you talking to John Oldham.
You’ll have to work fast, because I’m enjoying some new-found freedom. I fancy I might do another two before I come for you.
The Man in Black
Vincent sat completely motionless, staring at the computer screen, breathing only because it was automatic. The fact that someone knew a whole lot more about the crime scenes in Batley than he did, and had been following him during the day, left him feeling nauseous.
It could only mean one thing: the killer was taunting him.
Chapter Twenty-six
Gardener’s team filed into the incident room one by one. Their expressions and postures told him all he needed to know: they had worked hard, and they were tired. So was he. Glancing at his watch, it was a little past nine in the evening. That made it a straight twenty-one hours on duty without a real break.
He sipped from his bottled water. The rest of them had coffees; some even carried snacks.
Briggs came in last, with Sarah Gates. She was in better shape than the others, but Gardener doubted very much she’d been in the field for the same length of time.
Briggs closed the door and came to the front with Gardener. As they glanced at the
ANACAPA chart, Gardener studied the updates that had been added throughout the day. Hopefully, some of the mysteries had been solved.
“How have you got on?” Briggs asked Gardener.
“We’ve found out quite a lot, sir.”
Gardener knew the pressure he was under. A normal single murder – if you could call murder normal – occurring in one night would be bad enough, but a double murder made life difficult. If the killer struck again, Gardener hoped he wouldn’t choose another two victims. A niggling feeling at the back of his mind, however, told him otherwise.
“Well, that’s something,” said Briggs. “At least we might be a little nearer catching the killer.”
“Maybe,” said Gardener. “But there’s a bigger shock in store for us regarding Chloe Summerby.”
Briggs’ chest sunk. “Oh God, she’s not dead, is she?”
“Not that I know of, but you’d better sit in till the end, there’s a lot to get through.”
“Okay, bring it to order, then. I don’t fancy still being here at midnight.”
“You’re not the only one,” said Gardener.
Briggs glanced around. “Where’s your sidekick?”