The Phantom of Barker Mill

by steve higgs

  ‘Tempest.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I have a question.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Do you fancy me?’ The question was asked softly like she was trying to be kind to a small child and extract a truth they might not give up if they thought it would land them in trouble.

  My face coloured. I had no idea how to answer the question. I wanted to blurt out the truth: that I was utterly, utterly besotted by her, but I couldn't get my lips to move.

  ‘I ask because I saw that you have me listed on your phone as PC Hotstuff.’

  Oh, God.

  ‘And I catch you looking at me – like, a lot.’

  Ground swallow me now.

  I was staring at the floor trying to form a coherent sentence. Beside me in the driver's seat, both physically and metaphorically, Amanda kept quiet and waited for me to answer.

  I finally found some gumption. ‘I. I, ah. The PC Hotstuff thing I put into my phone when I didn't know your name. I never got around to changing it.' This bit was true. ‘But… I find you attractive. It would be ridiculous for me to deny it, I guess. I am a single heterosexual man and you are a very attractive single woman and, honestly, it didn't help when you kissed me.'

  ‘I kissed you?’ she was frowning, trying to remember having done so.

  ‘In my house. In front of my mother. Remember?’

  ‘Oh. Oh, yes. But that was just a peck on the lips to trick your mother.’

  Try telling Mr. Wriggly that.

  ‘I am a man. We are easily confused.’ I was still struggling to express myself but needed to regain some control of the situation. ‘Look. This is not going to be an issue. I had a totally normal reaction to meeting an attractive woman. We work together now. We didn’t then. Things have changed.’

  ‘Are you attracted to… sorry, I cannot remember her name. The girl from the coffee shop.’

  ‘Hayley? Mr. Wriggly is.'

  ‘Mr. Wriggly?'

  Oh, shitty death. I just said that out loud.

  ‘Who is…’ she tailed off as her cheeks started to flush. ‘Oh. Silly question.’ She said putting two and two together. ‘I have never heard of one called that before.’

  I considered just getting out of the car. We were doing seventy miles per hour, but it still seemed to be a better option than staying where I was.

  ‘It won’t be a problem.’ I said again.

  The rest of the journey was quiet and uncomfortable. As she dropped me off by my car we both sort of mumbled a goodbye and avoided looking at one another. She did not look back as she drove off. I stood in the car park pondering my life. I would not indulge myself enough to allow self-pity in, but I was a little miffed at how unable I was to manage something as simple as my own love life. I had finally ended my dry spell only hours ago. The woman involved was an absolute delight, but even trying my damnedest, I could not shift my infatuation with Amanda. I had intended to keep it under wraps, but she was savvy enough to see through me. Perhaps though, what I thought passed for calm, suaveness came across as dribbling stupidity to Amanda.

  Amanda was… I didn’t even have the words. There were women everywhere and she stood out like a beacon in the dark among them. She could have any man she wanted, and I suppose Brett Barker was proving that point. He was better looking than me, a little younger, a little trimmer and a multi-millionaire with his own helicopter. He probably had his own plane and private island as well. It was a package I could not compete with. Finding evidence to prove he had killed his grandfather might not make Amanda fall into my arms but it felt like a good idea anyway.

  I headed up to my office. I was going to get my teeth into this case and crack it. I was going to put thoughts of Amanda out of my mind and I was going to be the man I wanted to be, dammit. Then maybe I would deserve Amanda.

  I sat at my desk and plotted a brief plan of what I would do for the next few days. The plan would be reactive depending on what I found out along the way.

  My first task was to stake out Owen Larkin. Then tonight I would stake out the Mill. Tomorrow, I would meet with Mrs. Barker and ask her about the other person her husband had considered as the alterative heir to the Mill.

  I checked my watch, did some mental calculation and headed home to walk the dogs.

  Staking out Owen Larkin. Monday, 11th October 1402hrs

  I parked my car across the street from Owen Larkin's house and wondered, not for the first time if my car was too distinctive for being unobtrusive. Bright red, sleek and sporty, the 2009 Porsche Boxster S with a full Porsche body kit and a big spoiler on its back end, was a car I would glance at or would remember having seen. Maybe I needed a Ford or a Vauxhall so that I could blend in better. Too late now though, so I sat in my car and watched his house.

  This was not my first stake out, but I had only felt the need to commit to them a handful of times before. I was thankful for this as they are boring, and I have a natural inclination to go to sleep, making the very act of staking someone or somewhere out quite pointless. However, there was something off about Owen Larkin and I wanted to devote some time to watching him.

  His car was parked on the road in front of his house. I had found out what car he owned by getting Amanda to do a quick search. The police have access to some very useful information. If his car was there I expected that he would be also but there was nothing happening, so I sat and waited.

  To pass the time I called Frank.

  ‘Tempest.’ he answered. ‘Unexpected pleasure. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Good afternoon, Frank. What do you know about the Phantom of Barker Mill?’ I asked.

  ‘Ooh, research.' he responded excitedly. ‘It is not a subject I have read much about although it does appear in a few books I have on my shelf. Britain's most haunted buildings by Edgar Toomly has a section about it. I shall see what can find and get back to you.'

  ‘Thank you, Frank.’

  ‘Will you be in later?’

  ‘I’m not sure what my movements might be, so you will be best to call first.’

  Frank disconnected, and I went back to staring out of my window hopelessly hoping something would happen. I took to theorising what had might have happened when there had been a Phantom attack. Old Sam had told me about his mate Barry and Mr. Miller the shift supervisor. That particular incident was over fifty years ago now, so the trail was quite cold, but Old Sam's mate might still be alive and able to answer questions. I doubted I would be able to delve much further back than that and still be able to find persons to interview so it was my oldest available incident and as such formed a start point of sorts.

  The Phantom was either shadows or superstition or more likely it had started out as a shadow, a half-seen something that an excitable individual had then embellished to create a fanciful story. It might have started as a bit of a laugh but from it, the story of the Phantom had grown and soon it was a popular way to explain mistakes: What happened to this broken equipment? Oh, it must have been the Phantom. The individual that had broken it thus gets off scot free. But after that, I felt it entirely plausible that people had used the story of the Phantom to cover up more sinister events. If you had a love rival and wanted them out of the way you could saw through some walkway bolts and then arrange for the intended victim to go across the walkway. Would anyone even look at whether there was a culprit? Or would the Phantom be instantly blamed by one and all?

  One stage further was to assume that people might dress up as the Phantom. It was described in very loose terms after all - cloaked figure all in black. Not hard to replicate. Satisfied that I had fleshed out some basic ideas for how the Phantom sightings had stretched over a century, I glanced down at the clock. I had been staking out Owen Larkin's house for twelve minutes. It felt like three hours.

  Two more minutes dragged by slowly.

  ‘Bugger this.’ I said out loud and turned on the ignition. I checked the road before pulling out to see there was a car approaching. I recognised the driver. It
was Owen Larkin. I had not considered that he might have more than one car.

  I slunk down a little in my seat, turned off the ignition and watched. The car went past mine and on further down the road until the driver found a parking space large enough to accommodate his car. A few seconds later he emerged onto the pavement and walked briskly in my direction. He had his phone to his right ear and was talking loudly and with great animation. He was clearly agitated.

  As I listened, I realised he was talking to Brett Barker. It was obvious in fact because he referred to him by name more than once.

  ‘It wasn’t me, Brett. I didn’t go to the Mill on Saturday night.’

  This was getting interesting. As he passed me by and went up his driveway I eased out of my car keeping as quiet as I could. I was wearing brogues that would make too much noise on the road and paths, so I slipped them off and deposited them in my car, then crossed the road keeping low in just my socks.

  Owen Larkin was good enough to have grown a hedge that shielded me from view but allowed noise to penetrate. Overhearing his conversation was easy. Then I heard the door open and as I peered through the trees I could see Owen was stood halfway through his door. He was listening to Brett on the other end of the call again.

  ‘Yes.’

  A pause while he listened

  ‘Make sure Furnace B is out of action.

  A pause.

  ‘Ok. I’ll do it tonight.’

  A pause.

  ‘Yes. You told me that already.’

  A pause.

  ‘I don't think we need to worry about Tempest Michaels. He clearly has no idea what happened to your grandfather.' Owen laughed then. A shared joke of some kind. ‘Well, your grandfather had it coming, but there is no chance they will ever tie it to you.'

  This was solid gold!

  ‘Okay. I'll see you tomorrow.'

  A pause.

  ‘Yes.’ Then he disconnected. I was still crouching behind a bush.

  ‘What are you doing?' asked a voice from behind me. The voice belonged to a little old lady walking her equally old Jack Russell. I turned in horror at the question. It was loud enough for Owen to have heard and through the tiny gaps in his hedge, I could see him looking in my direction now. He knew my voice! I could not dare to answer the lady. It seemed rude but, in my hesitation, Owen appeared to be moving back towards the street from his front door.

  Needing to move fast and not sure how to do so without exposing myself, I took a few fast steps and dived through the neat hedge of his next-door neighbour. I came to rest just as I heard heavy footsteps hit the pavement where I had been. I held my breath, waiting for Owen to spot me, finally exhaling thirty seconds later when I heard the front door close. The old lady had found me boring thankfully and had gone on her way.

  I needed to get up and get moving, the full realisation of what I had just heard now hitting me. Owen Larkin was the Phantom, he had been guilty all along and his actions were being orchestrated by Brett Barker himself. Not only that but he had suggested that Brett was guilty of his grandfather's murder. I didn't know what they were up to with all the Phantom nonsense, but Owen was going to be at the Mill tonight to perform some task at furnace B. Now that the street was quiet again I risked a glance over the short hedge I had hidden behind to make sure Owen was not looking out his front window. I could neither see nor hear anyone moving, so I got up, maintained a crouch until I was back out onto the street then ran across the road and dived into my car.

  Tea and Biscuits Monday, 11th October 1607hrs

  The Mill was so vast I needed everyone I could get my hands on to help me cover it if we were to catch Owen Larkin in the act. On my way home, I had called Big Ben and Amanda and then Jagjit and Basic and finally Frank. They were all up for a bit of Ghostbusting and Frank had assured me Poison would be coming too. The exception was Amanda who was on shift tonight. I called her, not because I wanted to see if she could join us, but because I specifically didn't want to call her. It felt cowardly to avoid speaking with her now, so I had set my jaw and made the call. I told her what I had heard and what I planned to do. Surprisingly though, Amanda questioned whether going into the Mill to catch Owen was a good idea.

  She also could not believe that Brett was behind the crimes. ‘Brett hired us, Tempest.’

  ‘I cannot explain his strategy, Amanda. However, I heard what I heard. Owen is hitting the Mill tonight on the instruction of Brett Barker.’

  ‘Are you going to clear it with anyone that you will be at the Mill tonight? You cannot ask for Brett's permission to be there.'

  ‘I don't want people to know we are coming. I do not know who else is involved so I cannot speak to anyone. Except maybe Mrs. Barker.'

  ‘Well look, Tempest. Basically, if you do not have permission to be on the premises you will be breaking and entering. Even if you do not break anything in the process.’

  ‘Understood. I think you are worrying needlessly. If we catch Owen Larkin the Phantom case will be sewn up – case solved in record time. Faced with taking the blame himself, Owen will implicate Brett and I expect to be able to ascertain then whether Mr. George Barker was murdered and how.'

  ‘Tempest, I am advising against this course of action.’

  I was struggling for words. I was going. I knew it was the right thing to do and my best chance to catch the man responsible. Catch Owen sabotaging the Mill and dressed as a Phantom and there would be little he could do to wiggle free.

  ‘I fail to see the flaw in my logic, Amanda. I will call you when we catch him.’ I heard Amanda sigh at the other end of the line. She had no further warnings to give though so she wished me luck, which sounded quite forced and false and she disconnected.

  I counted my team. I had seven live bodies. It was far too few, but it was what I had.

  I had a stack of simple two-way radios that I had bought from a sale of Army goods more than a decade ago. At the time, I thought I might just be able to flog them on for a profit as they had been virtually giving them away but had never actually got around to doing so. Now they were in a box in my loft gathering dust and should only require a charge to make them functional.

  The loose plan was to get to the Mill early, spread out with large fields of vision around and between the various building so we could watch most entry points and thus spy the perpetrator arriving or leaving. Brett had told Owen he wanted it done tonight which to me meant after dark when the Mill was shut down and there was no one there. As a former employee, Owen would know his way around the Mill and probably had been given keys or passes or whatever by Brett so that he could get in. I was making assumptions, but they felt sound.

  Catching him in the act, together with my testimony that I had overheard Brett issuing him with instruction to sabotage equipment, ought to be sufficient to wrap up the case. However, I expected that Owen would cave in and give us the full story. Better yet, Amanda still had her Police ID and was still actually a Police Officer, so could arrest him and hand him over to the local Police once we had what information we needed. What would the full story be though? Had they also conspired to kill the late George Barker also? Honestly, at this point, I still had no idea how they had achieved it, although I could easily convince myself the two crimes were connected and perpetrated by the same person or persons. It would be nice to wrap up both cases together and get a fat cheque from Mrs. Barker. Hold on though, Brett had taken the firm on to catch the Phantom. When I proved that he was orchestrating the Phantom's actions would I still get paid? Who would I send the invoice to? You should have taken a fee upfront, Tempest. Silly boy.

  Never mind though. A case is a case and I wanted to solve this one.

  I was nearing my house and felt the usual elation I get when I can feel a case coming together. I had never expected to find solving silly mysteries so gratifying.

  I turned the final corner into my street and saw my parent's car parked in front of my house. This was not particularly unusual, they lived only a few miles
away and liked to borrow the dogs to go for a walk in the countryside. I had given them a key when I moved in, so on occasion, which is to say every other week or so, they would just turn up. If I was in, we would have a cup of tea and a chat and we might all go out for a walk together. If I was out, as I had been when they arrived today, they would simply take the dogs and head off into the local countryside by themselves. I was being a bit too generous there. More typically mother would spend half an hour weeding my garden, so she could moan at me for not staying on top of it and then she would take the dogs for a walk and would return via the village pub for an industrial strength gin.

  I parked beside their car and went inside. In a rare change from the usual, no dogs came rushing to greet me. I went to the kitchen window and peered around the back garden. Since they were not there either, my parents must be out walking them and would return soon enough. I flicked the kettle on to make myself a cup of tea and headed to the loft.

  I believed that I knew where the box of radios was in my loft, but I was wrong, and it took five minutes of searching under other items to reveal their location. I bumped my head twice on wooden trusses during my rummage and found an old Play Station 2 that I had not seen in years but brought out of the attic with me anyway. It would be fun to play some of the old games on it, maybe have a lad's night with Mortal Kombat and Need for Speed. I took it and the radios back downstairs and set the kettle to boil again.

  While the tea infused, I dusted the radios off and plugged each one into the base charging unit I had got with it. In all, I had twelve radios and eleven of them showed the little red light to indicate they were charging but not charged. They would display a green light when they were fully charged, which if my memory was correct, would take about three hours. I poked the twelfth radio with my technology ignorant fingers, but it steadfastly refused to be raised from its dormant state.

  Behind me, the front door opened as my parents returned with the dogs. They all spotted me at once, the little dog's tails prescribing a fast arc as they strained at their leads to get to me.