THE KILLER OF THE DARKNESS

EPISODE THREE

THREE

My car splashed along the narrow streets, not lit so that the island did not become a target for the German bombers. All the lights out in the shops in the town, also, which made driving precarious during the blackouts.

I glanced at my watch. It was quarter to six, as I passed the fishing boats moored in the sheltered tiny harbour, their masts weaving like pointing knitting needles.

The street gave out into the main square with the squat weathered church dominating the south side, surrounded by railings and a privet hedge.

On the north side was the police headquarters, water pouring from the broken gutter and splashing to one side of the four steps that led up to the door.

We passed into the hall and up the stairs to Roome's office on the first floor.

Roome pointed to a chair by a window with closed black-out curtains.

"Bring that over here - it won't take long." He sat down and reached for his desk intercom. "Patterson, call through to East Suffolk Constabulary at Copdock, and send somebody in here with a notebook - I want a statement taken."

He put the phone down.

"Like a cup of tea?"

I shook my head.

"No, thanks, Terry. How long and my likely to be?"

Roome gave a grunt.

"Ten minutes. Joanne waiting for you, is she?"

I nodded glumly.

"We're supposed to be meeting at seven. Our regular midweek treat is Fish and Chips, though my appetite is a bit blunted."

Roome pulled a pad towards him.

"Don't be so daft - do you good."

He started to write, frowned, and reached for the intercom again.

"Patterson, are there any reports of missing people - islanders - in the last few days?"

"I'll see, sir, but none come to mind."

"Right and I want Doctor Walton on the line as soon as I am finished with the Mainland. Have you got them yet?"

"Not yet, sir, the lines are full. There is a war on, sir."

Roome banged his palm on the desk in exasperation.

"Bloody hell, man, this is urgent. I know there is a bloody war on, but we have got a dead woman with her head missing. Do you not realize that?"

He switched off and turned back to me, his face strained.

I nodded at the intercom.

"How will you find out who she is?"

Roome sighed.

"We can soon check the local populace. If she is not one of us, then God knows where she came from, with the ferry incapacitated. If we can find her head in the morning that will help."

He passed a hand through his hair, his face looking older and tired.

"This is one hell of a thing to happen on Onehouse Island. We've managed to keep the horrors of the war away from these shores."

He shook his head sadly.

"The scars may never heal in our lifetime. I can only hope the maniac is not one of us, but one thing is for sure right enough. We have got to find him. That. . ." He hesitated. ". . . man. . .is not even a normal psychopath, and if he is here on this island, every man, woman and child go in peril of their lives."