The Sandman

by steve higgs

  The Sandman

  Blue Moon Investigations

  Book 17

  Steve Higgs

  Text Copyright © 2021 Steven J Higgs

  Publisher: Steve Higgs

  The right of Steve Higgs to be identified as author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  All rights reserved.

  The book is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  ‘The Sandman’ is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead or undead, events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Steve Short, a long-time advocate of my work and dedicated member of my inner circle. He is responsible for the camouflage jackets Basic is now making a fortune with.

  Thanks, Steve. Top man.

  Table of Contents

  Tempest. Missing Team Member. Friday, December 23rd 1517hrs

  Jane. Unpleasant Sensation. Friday, December 23rd 1518hrs

  Tempest. Pooling Resources. Friday, December 23rd 1519hrs

  Jane. First Steps. Friday, December 23rd 1554hrs

  Tempest. The Blue Moon Office. Friday, December 23rd 1607hrs

  Big Ben. Jane’s Gran’s House in Aylesford. Friday, December 23rd 1622hrs

  Jane. Working the Problem. Friday, December 23rd 1645hrs

  Tempest. The House of Matilda Carpenter. Friday, December 23rd 1648hrs

  Big Ben. A Show of Strength. Friday, December 23rd 1652hrs

  Amanda. Research at the Office. Friday, December 23rd 1652hrs

  Big Ben. Inside Grandma’s House. Friday, December 23rd 1653hrs

  Jane. Muscular Overload. Friday December 23rd 1701hrs

  Big Ben. Jane’s Bedroom. Friday, December 23rd 1709hrs

  Tempest. Karen Gilbert’s House. Friday, December 23rd 1730hrs

  Big Ben. Retaliation. Friday, December 23rd 1735hrs

  Jane. Perseverance. Friday, December 23rd 1740hrs

  Tempest. Wasting Time. Friday, December 23rd 1741hrs

  Big Ben. Surrounded. Friday, December 23rd 1742hrs

  Tempest. A Breakthrough, Finally. Friday, December 23rd 1746hrs

  Amanda. Fingerprints. Friday December 23rd 1751hrs

  Tempest. Closing In. Friday, December 23rd 1812hrs

  Jane. A New Challenge. Friday, December 23rd 1836hrs

  Quinn. Steely Eyed Thief Taker. Friday, December 23rd 1842hrs

  Tempest. Start Talking, Punk! Friday, December 23rd 1903hrs

  The Sandman. Dancing to my Tune. Friday, December 23rd 1922hrs

  Big Ben. More Bad News. Friday, December 23rd 1933hrs

  Amanda. Toby Carter. Friday, December 23rd 1940hrs

  Tempest. Defeated. Friday, December 23rd 1942hrs

  Amanda. Aliases. Friday, December 23rd 1956hrs

  Tempest. Getting Rubbed the Wrong Way. Friday, December 23rd 2001hrs

  Jane. Electricity. Friday, December 23rd 2007hrs

  The Sandman. Listening. Friday, December 23rd 2011hrs

  Amanda. Slipped Right Through our Fingers. Friday, December 23rd 2024hrs

  Tempest. Time for Action. Friday, December 23rd 2031hrs

  Tempest. No Need for Stealth. Friday, December 23rd 2109hrs

  Jane. Not Alone. Friday, December 23rd 2112hrs

  Tempest. Time to go! Friday, December 23rd 2120hrs

  Tempest. Busted. Friday December 23rd 2122hrs

  Jane. A Noise in the Dark. Friday, December 24th 0215hrs

  Ramsey Mitchell. Everything According to his Plan. Saturday, December 24th 0217hrs

  Quinn. Learning from a Master. Saturday December 24th 1127hrs

  Tempest. Cautioned and Released. Saturday, December 24th 1206hrs

  Tempest. When the Truth Finally Dawns. Saturday, December 24th 1310hrs

  The Sandman. Valerie’s Pain. Saturday, December 24th 1327hrs

  Tempest. The Blue Moon Office. Saturday, December 24th 1336hrs

  Quinn. Dissection of a Serial Killer. Saturday, December 24th 1348hrs

  Tempest. Locksmiths. Saturday, December 24th 1406hrs

  Tempest. A Note from the Sandman. Saturday, December 24th 1417hrs

  Jane. Hard Choices. Saturday, December 24th 1424hrs

  Tempest. Hidden Things. Saturday, December 24th 1428hrs

  Quinn. Reason to get Excited? Saturday, December 24th 1441hrs

  Big Ben. Tooling Up. Saturday, December 24th 1520hrs

  Quinn. Updated Information. Saturday, December 24th 1603hrs

  Tempest. A Plan. Saturday, December 24th 1605hrs

  The Sandman. Preparation is Everything. Saturday, December 24th 1618hrs

  Big Ben. Full Assault Mode. Saturday, December 24th 1623hrs

  Jane. All the Fuel I Would Need. Saturday, December 24th 1627hrs

  Jane. Behind Every Great Man. Saturday, December 24th 1638hrs

  Big Ben. How it Went Down. Saturday, December 24th 1630hrs

  Tempest. Ambush My Ambush. Saturday, December 24th 1638hrs

  Jane. The Final Fight. Saturday, December 24th 1640hrs

  Tempest. Grey Hair. Saturday, December 24th 1648hrs

  Tempest. Doing Something I Probably Shouldn’t. Saturday, December 24th 1715hrs

  The Golem in Block C

  Author’s Notes

  What’s next for the Blue Moon Crew?

  A FREE Rex and Albert Story

  More Urban Fantasy by Steve Higgs

  More Books by Steve Higgs

  Free Books and More

  Tempest. Missing Team Member. Friday, December 23rd 1517hrs

  Amanda and I were all but running as we left the ward. My clothes were on - having dressed in a world record time – but crazily dishevelled and my hair had to be sticking out at all angles because that was what it always did until I tamed it.

  None of these things registered in my head as both Amanda and I started talking.

  We were having two different conversations, and neither was with each other. I was on my phone to Big Ben. Amanda was on her phone to Hilary.

  Two minutes earlier, Chief Inspector Quinn had left my hospital room after dropping a bombshell about Jane. Jane is the third detective at my firm, Blue Moon Investigations, and she was missing. He didn’t say she was missing, that would be poor form for a police officer, a senior one to boot, unless he was already doing something about it, but what he did say was enough for me to believe she was in desperate trouble.

  Chief Inspector Quinn revealed that Jane had music playing when her phone was answered but there was no one there to talk to. Anyone else would most likely think that was odd, yet dismiss it. Amanda and I knew what it meant, and it sent ice through our veins.

  The piece of music was Mr Sandman by The Chordettes, and it was the signature of a serial killer we had dubbed The Sandman. Jane stole one of his recent victims before he could kill her and got a threat through the mail only days later.

  It read: I’m going to sing you to sleep, and it came with a copy of the record to remove any ambiguity about the sender’s identity.

  Ever since, Jane had been working on her caseload while never really taking her eye off her investigation into who the Sandman might be in real life
. I had left her to get on with it, never really paying enough attention to how great a threat the psycho posed. There had been no further threats from him, and no messages or signs that Jane was being followed. We also had no client for the case and lots of paying work to keep us busy.

  I was going to blame myself if anything happened to her, and since she was most likely the captive of a serial killer already, I had to accept that something already had.

  Big Ben’s sleepy voice reached my ear. ‘Hey, normal sized man, what’s happening?’ Big Ben is an old buddy from the army. He’s six feet seven inches of toned, lean muscle with a face that could sell aftershave. He never misses a chance to be a dick.

  I cut through all his nonsense fast. ‘Jane’s been taken, Ben. It’s the Sandman.’

  I got a beat of silence before he said, ‘Where do you need me?’ The tone of his voice and entire attitude had switched in a heartbeat. We were dealing with serious business and he was ready.

  He got the short answer. ‘The office. Amanda is with me. We are just leaving the hospital to get to Rochester. We need to go over Jane’s notes first. She’s been trying to work out who this guy is for weeks. It’s time to finish her work.’

  ‘Okay.’ I could hear movement in the background and a woman’s voice. Strike that, I could hear at least two different voices – two women. At least. ‘I need a few minutes to organise myself. I’ll meet you there.’

  With that call complete, I called the next number on my mental list. I have a circle of friends just like anyone else. Unlike most people, mine were all heroes. They chose to involve themselves in my work, coming with me when I needed extra muscle or extra brainpower. It rarely goes well.

  I called Jagjit, a man who I met at school on my first day. Our careers diverged when we left school, he went to university and I went off to be a soldier. When I left the army and returned home, he was still there, and we picked up where we left off.

  Amanda caught my arm to get my attention as the phone rang in my ear. We were still negotiating our way through the crowded hospital and I looked around expecting to see that she was trying to steer me away from something.

  It wasn’t that; Amanda had something to tell me and a question to ask. ‘Hilary is on his way. His wife is not happy.’ When was she ever? ‘Do you want me to call your parents?’

  My mum and dad are kind of kooky. Dad is retired Royal Navy and is the kind of man who gives his son a stupid middle name because he believes it will help him in life. It didn’t. Mum crosses herself thirty times a day, tipples on gin and wine and dreams up ways to annoy my father. She vehemently disapproves of my career as a paranormal investigator – my activities cause at least half of the crossing she does – while dad thinks my job is brilliant and keeps joining in.

  He has nearly died while helping like eleven times already. He’s probably the reason mum finds the need to tipple.

  I pursed my lips and shook my head. I didn’t want them dragged into this. It is only a day until Christmas, and they are heading to my sister’s place in Hampshire for the big day. We would have enough people to go over the information I expected to find.

  Having given Amanda my answer, I continued planning in my head. The exit was ahead but we had to slow down as we reached the press of people in the hospital’s reception area.

  Jagjit finally answered his phone. ‘Tempest, what’s up?’

  Oh, yeah. I should probably introduce myself. My name is Tempest Michaels. I’m a six-foot, one-hundred-and-ninety-pound former British soldier and current paranormal detective. The current job came about by accident but has stuck because it seems to suit me. I employed Amanda because she asked me to, and I said yes because she is a drop-dead gorgeous blonde and the thing in my pants makes decisions for me all too often.

  This story is about me. Kind of.

  Jane. Unpleasant Sensation. Friday, December 23rd 1518hrs

  I awoke with a dry mouth. That was the first thing my brain chose to notice, but it took no more than a heartbeat for it to catch up with some of the more pertinent information. Such as my hands being tied behind my back. A ball of cotton wool filled my mouth, hence the dryness, and the moment I felt it there I began to gag. It was held in place by a rag which was tied tightly around my head.

  Forcing myself to calm, I got the gagging under control and ran a mental checklist to see what other problems I might have. I couldn’t see anything, but I wasn’t blind, I was simply in a room devoid of light. I was lying on a bed. A comfortable bed at that; not that being comfortable was giving me any comfort.

  Doing my best to think logically, I worked back through recent events. I’d just arrived home late last night, only leaving Frank’s super-creepy house in the countryside once I knew Tempest, Amanda and the others were safe. They’d been tracking a team of ex-special forces guys and it had all got a bit tense for a while.

  They lost Tempest in the woods and couldn’t get hold of him. I stayed with Frank until we heard he’d been found, cold, but unharmed.

  So I left Frank’s house, driving my car back to Gran’s house in Aylesford … but then what? I had a vague sense of arriving home. Exhausted, starving, and wanting a bath even though it was something like two in the morning, I …

  What did I do? I asked myself the question as I wriggled around and tested my bindings. My ankles were tied too, but not my knees which meant I could shuffle my legs around. The ropes – it felt like rope – around my ankles were tight, but had been tied over my boots. I was going to be able to get my feet free if I worked at it.

  There was nothing holding me to the bed which meant some more shuffling got my legs around to the edge and I was able to carefully sit up. In the dark, I was fearful I might encounter a low ceiling, but found nothing but free air.

  Okay, I was sitting up. Now what?

  Still dredging my memory, I could not recall getting to my house. Everything went blank when I parked the car.

  A sudden burst of light burned my eyes as the lights in the room came on. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all bright white and the lights set into the panels above my head were like those erected in a surgical theatre.

  My eyes screwed tight shut to defend themselves, but even through my eyelids it still hurt.

  ‘Ah, I see you are awake,’ came a disembodied voice. Like the lights, the suddenness of it startled me, making me jolt. It was coming over a speaker, the voice containing that electronic not-quite-rightness and sounding distant even though it was right in the room.

  I looked about but could not see the speaker. Guessing it was plastered into the wall, as they can be, I hopped to my feet and tried to find it.

  ‘I hope you are feeling well,’ the voice continued, ‘and rested. Though not too rested because you will sleep again soon.’

  I froze to the spot, my blood turning to ice because in that instant I knew who I was listening to. The Sandman had me. He threatened to sing me to sleep and now I was his captive.

  A chuckle came over the airwaves. ‘Did you just work it out, Jane Butterworth? Yes, I can see by your body language. There is no reason for alarm, Jane. Nothing terrible is going to happen to you. I merely wish to sing you to sleep. You probably expect me to harbour a grudge because you stole Karen Gilbert from me, yet I do not. I will find Karen again in time, and she can hear her song then.’

  I looked around, trying not to appear frantic even though that was exactly how I felt.

  Had I not been gagged I might have thought up a witty repartee or launched a salvo of expletives and threats. Since I could do neither, I focused on what I could do – I listened.

  He sounded confident, that was the first thing that stuck in my head. His voice was that of a middle-aged man; someone the wrong side of fifty perhaps. His accent was local and educated, by which I mean he sounded like he had attended a private school and came from money. Kent has a gulf of divide between the multi-millionaires living in huge country houses and the breadline living-wage workers stuffed two families to a tin
y house. The two live almost next door to each other in some areas.

  There was also something familiar about his voice. My brain insisted I knew who I was listening to or that it was someone I had once met. If that were true, I could not yet connect a face to the voice.

  The Sandman continued to prattle on, chatting away happily like we were sharing a conversation over a coffee. ‘There is no point in looking for a way out, Jane. I’m afraid escape is quite impossible. You should rejoice though for all your worries are over. All the petty concerns you held for relationships, bills … the future. All will melt away when I sing you to sleep for the final time.’

  I hopped back to the bed but continued to look around the room until I spotted the camera lens. It was tiny - a fraction of an inch, no more. A small fraction at that. He could see me, he could hear me, and he held all the cards.

  Well, maybe not quite all. My research led me to be convinced he had only ever killed women. According to everyone, my small frame makes me look scrawny when I am dressed as James. To be fair, I get what they are saying. I weigh not much more than a hundred pounds and I’m nearly six feet tall. However, when I choose to become Jane, the attributes change and suddenly I am thought to be willowy or slender – positives for a woman. Is it any wonder I spend more time as my feminine persona? Getting my voice to sound right took some time, but I was willing to bet the Sandman, whoever he was, had no idea about my true gender.

  If I could find a way to use that to my advantage, I would.

  Tempest. Pooling Resources. Friday, December 23rd 1519hrs

  Not paying enough attention to where I was going, I bumped into someone just as the call to Jagjit connected.

  I bounced off the hard shoulder that hit my chest and all but fell backward. My phone was jerked from my hand to go skittering across the tiled floor of the hospital’s reception area.

  Thrusting a leg back to arrest my motion, I turned to see who I had bumped. A man with a buzz cut was glaring at me. He was in his thirties and dressed like a monk. Sort of. His cassock – I believed that was the right word for his thick floor-length robe – was black. A large hood fell behind his head and his sleeves hung low beneath his arms which were tense and ready to rise into a fighting stance.