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nights.’
    â€˜You’ve had notes?’ Bert’s interest quickened. There were possibilities with notes. People gave things away when they committed themselves to paper.
    Jason Ramsbottom went into the kitchen, opened one of the top drawers in the row of compact cabinets, lifted out a cutlery tray, and extracted two sheets from beneath it, using a pair of salad tongs to avoid contact with his fingers.
    Bert said admiringly, ‘You know all about fingerprints, then. You’re familiar with our procedures.’
    Jason grinned ruefully. ‘I read detective novels. I watch crime series on TV. It’s hard to avoid them, nowadays, but I also enjoy them. You’ll find these things have got my prints and Lisa’s prints on them, though. We handled both of these before we knew what they were. You don’t expect that this sort of thing will ever happen to you.’
    â€˜Of course you don’t. And it never does happen to most people, despite today’s more violent society.’ Bert took the salad tongs and handled the two significant items with the same care Ramsbottom had shown, laying them down carefully on the table by the window, where the light was brightest.
    â€˜That was the first one.’ Jason pointed to the thin white card nearest to the window. The message said simply: YOU ARE LINING YOURSELF UP FOR DEATH. The letters were all capitals and had been cut from newspapers or magazines.
    Bert glanced up into the two anxious, expectant faces. ‘Where and when did you receive this?’
    â€˜It was delivered here on the sixth of April. It was there when I got up at seven twenty in the morning. We reckon it could have been delivered at any time after seven thirty on the previous evening. We hadn’t been to the door since then. My first thought was that it was a belated April fool joke. It seemed so outlandish, and we simply weren’t prepared for it.’
    Jason poured out his information quickly. It was plainly a relief to speak about something which he had hugged to himself for weeks. Hook checked the date in his mind. ‘That was a Saturday.’
    Lisa nodded. ‘The Saturday after Easter. The site was crowded. We reckon there were certainly well over a hundred people here. It could have been anyone.’
    â€˜Which may have been why the sender chose that day. If it was a he, that is.’ Bert looked carefully at the second message. The method was almost identical, with letters cut from printed material and stuck to what seemed to be an identical thin white card. HEED YOUR WARNINGS. THE TIME IS NEAR.
    â€˜That was behind the door when we arrived here on the fourth of May. It could have been dropped there at any time in the previous five days. Or it might have been only there for an hour or two. It was a Saturday once more, so the site was crowded with people again.’
    Bert shook his head sadly. ‘Which could imply that the person who delivered this is normally only here at weekends, or that someone who is here much more frequently merely chooses to make himself more anonymous by sheltering within the crowd. I’m sorry if I’m stating the obvious: you’ve probably worked these things out for yourselves.’
    Lisa said quickly, ‘But it’s good to have some sort of official confirmation. You’ve seen this sort of thing before, but it’s totally new and merely shocking for me and for Jason. Jenny, our daughter, hasn’t seen them and we’d prefer that she doesn’t get to know about them.’
    â€˜Do you think these might be in any way connected with Jenny? Moonstruck teenagers and even young men can become quite unbalanced by pretty girls. It usually passes mercifully quickly.’
    Lisa glanced at her husband. They exchanged quick, nervous smiles. ‘We think it’s highly unlikely that these have any connection with Jenny. She hasn’t been here very much. She has her own circle of friends