must admit, it didn’t click when he came into the café. He just came across as angry. Now I think of it, he must have been hungry. I feel as though I should have slowed down a little and analysed that situation better.’
‘Don’t think that. He came in with a right temper and was scaring everyone in the café.’ Briggs caught her gaze, then looked away.
‘Okay. June also mentioned that she and Cyril have tried to speak to him before. She gave him some change and he said his name was Al. It’s not much, but it’s a start. I still can’t get that moment out of my mind when I saw him at the back of the gardens on Monday evening. He was lurking around there and I can’t think why. We really need to put out a search for those kids too but I know how hard that will be. Then, get this: our vicar, Sally Stevens, saw a person by a grave in the middle of the night on Wednesday.’
Briggs sniggered and scratched his nose. ‘It’s all sounding a bit Halloween if you know what I mean.’
She smiled. ‘I know exactly what you mean.’
His phone beeped and he checked it. ‘The press are already having a field day. First headline is in and guess who reported it.’
‘Bloody Lyndsey Saunders. Go on.’ Gina took a swig of her coffee.
‘“Man Buried Alive – The curse of Cleevesford strikes again. More murders per square mile than Inner City London.”’
‘That’s a total lie!’ Almost choking as she swallowed, Gina began to laugh as coffee almost escaped from her nose. She coughed a few times to clear her throat. ‘What on earth? More murders than Inner City London. Curse – what the hell is she on about?’
He clicked on the article and shook his head. ‘Looks like she’s been speaking to the locals and our vicar, Sally Stevens. Apparently, Sally mentioned the figure in the graveyard and our Lyndsey has put two and two together and come up with a curse. If you read on, she mentions the ghost of a boy who buried a girl alive because she didn’t love him – all backed up by the locals of course. In Lyndsey’s words, all the dead girl ghosts come out to haunt the woods and get their revenge on Halloween. Anyway, that’s ridiculous. Her reputation should be out of the window by now but people seem to lap it up. Thinking of other things, maybe it’s a ritualistic killing or someone took the ghost story a bit too far.’
Gina rubbed her temples as she finished clearing the coffee from her windpipe. ‘It all sounds ludicrous but we have to consider it. Our victim was buried alive with a bell. The bell didn’t have a clapper in it. Our victim was never meant to be found. Imagine him in that coffin, pulling away in the hope that someone would come? This murder is so ritualistic. We found three matches and a matchbox. This case is warped. Coffins, matches, bells and clappers. It has odd written all over it. Ghosts – no. Someone is playing on the haunted thing and we need to find out who.’
‘You’re right. I just wish they’d concentrate on our victim more than sensationalising everything. Poor Al’s photo is no bigger than one you’d use on a passport. I know it isn’t the clearest but it could have been at least double in size. He’s playing second fiddle to a stock footage photo of a creepy druid that has nothing to do with the case.’
‘It’s all about selling papers. Lyndsey doesn’t care about people. She’s shown that to be true in the past.’
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.’