The Detective Deans Mystery Collection

by James D Mortain

  ‘Give me the card, I’ll call him myself.’

  Sarah greeted Billy Palmer at the front door less than an hour later. As requested, he brought his camera, along with a second padded shoulder bag. Deans waited for him at the top of the stairs.

  ‘Can we start again, please,’ Deans said offering his hand.

  Palmer nervously accepted the gesture and Deans welcomed him through to the living room.

  ‘Look, I’m really sorry,’ Deans said. ‘I overreacted and I really do apologise for my actions.’

  Palmer rolled his head – somewhere between a nod and a shake.

  ‘How much footage do you have of me?’

  Palmer looked at Sarah who had come alongside him.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘Let me explain. You know about Andy’s wife, don’t you?’

  Palmer’s timid eyes glanced Deans’ way. ‘Yeah… yes. I’m aware.’

  ‘The killers are still out there,’ Sarah said gesturing with an outstretched arm towards the window. Palmer’s head followed her pointing fingers.

  ‘I need the footage,’ Deans cut in. ‘All of it. You don’t realise, but you have been my personal CCTV operator.’

  Palmer shook his head. ‘I don’t understand.’

  Deans stepped forward, took Palmer’s elbow and walked further into the living room.

  ‘I believe I’m being followed. And in the process of filming me, you may have unwittingly filmed the killers.’

  Palmer glanced towards Sarah; he was seeking her constant reassurance. She nodded as such, but Palmer brought the camera closer to his chest.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Deans said. ‘We can view it here with you and if it’s obvious nobody else is there, you can have it straight back.’

  ‘It’s extremely expensive equipment,’ Palmer said turning his body away from Deans. ‘It’s irreplaceable.’

  ‘We’ll take good care of it,’ Deans smiled. ‘I promise.’

  Palmer shuffled his feet further back from Deans.

  ‘Can we have at look at some of it now?’ Deans asked.

  ‘We can connect it through the TV,’ Sarah suggested, picking a hand controller up from a coffee table at the side of the sofa.

  ‘Do you have cables?’ Deans asked.

  Palmer looked instinctively at the second padded bag hanging from his neck.

  ‘Great,’ Deans said. ‘Turn it on, Sarah.’

  ‘It’s not a normal video recorder,’ Palmer said defensively. ‘You… you won’t appear normal.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Deans asked.

  Palmer was hugging his equipment close to his chest.

  ‘Let’s just connect it up, shall we,’ Deans said keenly.

  Sarah took the connecting cable from Palmer’s reluctant grasp and fiddled with the back of the TV until the cable hung down ready to connect to the camera.

  ‘Take a seat,’ Sarah said to Palmer, pointing to the armchair.

  The TV screen came to life and Deans and Sarah sat down together on the sofa.

  ‘I’ve got a remote for the camera,’ Palmer said giving in to the fact Deans and Sarah were not going to be swayed. ‘It’ll make it easier to navigate.’ He rummaged through the camera bag, removed a small black controller and clicked through a sequence of commands until the screen showed the familiar image of the road beneath Torworthy Police Station.

  ‘This was yesterday?’ Deans asked.

  ‘Yes. Before you stopped me.’ Palmer “rinsed” his hands in a display of anxiety.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Deans said to him. ‘Relax.’

  Palmer scratched the side of his nose and rocked back and forth in his chair.

  ‘Play it,’ Deans said.

  Palmer caught Sarah’s eye, faltered for a beat and then pointed the controller towards the video camera. The image on the television rewound at a fast pace and then began playing with cars driving by in both directions as Palmer panned along the length of the slope leading to the elevated position of Torworthy Police Station. The camera quickly switched back to a car leaving the station grounds. Deans immediately recognised the maroon Ford Focus they had been using that day. He watched as their car drove past the camera position, slowed, and then stopped abruptly as break lights glowed on the screen. Deans saw Sarah exit the car and make her way quickly towards the camera. He leaned in closer to the screen and gave Sarah a sideways glance. She was still looking at the screen with a bewildered expression. Deans turned back to the TV, Sarah had a deep amber glow around her body. His car door was open and the camera swiftly zoomed in on to Deans’ face, all twisted and determined.

  Deans slowly rose from his seat as he watched the large screen TV. The footage jiggled and blurred, and veered away ending up at Palmer’s own feet as he took evasive action, the camera still recording.

  Deans was motionless. His mouth gaped wide and his arms dropped to his sides.

  Nobody spoke.

  Deans lifted a saggy arm and pointed it at the TV. ‘What is that?’

  ‘I told you,’ Palmer spluttered. ‘It’s not a normal video camera.’

  Sarah was gawping at Deans with disbelief etched into her face.

  Deans turned to Palmer. ‘Why do we have a kaleidoscope of colours around us?’

  ‘That is your auric footprint.’

  Deans blinked. ‘Auric footprint?’

  ‘We all have an aura that denotes our vibrations with the Universe,’ Palmer said.

  Deans’ eyebrows were reaching for the ceiling.

  ‘Our spiritual DNA, if you like.’

  ‘How do you—?’ Deans struggled with his question.

  ‘We use a special filter – it’s probably the best way to describe it. Anyone’s aura will be displayed in a similar manner.’ Palmer pressed rewind on the remote control and then froze the image of Deans outside of the vehicle coming towards him. ‘But yours is very exciting.’

  Deans turned to the TV again. His head was surrounded by a hue of indigo, violet and pink light.

  Palmer stood up from his seat. ‘Up until now, only still photographs have been available using electrodes on the body. But this camera brings an aura to life. I have witnessed your spiritual transformation over an extremely short period of time.’ He pointed to the TV screen. ‘Just two weeks ago, you were something quite different. Something… almost normal.’

  ‘Almost normal?’ Sarah repeated. ‘That’s a bit of an insult, isn’t it?’

  ‘Have you sensed it?’ Palmer asked Deans. ‘Are you… aware?’ His voice was excitable.

  ‘Aware of what?’ Sarah asked looking confused at Deans and Palmer in turn.

  Palmer was alight with energy. ‘Mr Deans is at the very highest level of vibration with the Universe. He is perfectly in tune with the spiritual realms. A conduit of spiritual energy and enlightenment.’ He beamed a broad smile.

  ‘What?’ Sarah giggled.

  Deans shuffled his way to the couch and slowly lowered himself down.

  Sarah watched him, her face contorted.

  Deans rested his forehead into the palms of his hands and gently rocked back and forth.

  ‘Andy, why aren’t you saying something?’ Sarah’s voice was crackling with stress.

  Deans rubbed his face and peered at them both through bloodshot eyes.

  Palmer fast-forwarded the footage and paused the screen on a full-frontal image of Deans. They all stared up at the television.

  Palmer approached Deans and lowered a soft hand onto his back. ‘Look at the aura,’ he whispered. ‘Look at the colour and shape surrounding your shoulders. It’s not a trick of light and it’s not a mistake.’

  Deans looked deeply into Palmer’s eyes.

  Palmer nodded. ‘They walk among us,’ he whispered. ‘You, walk among us.’

  Deans and Sarah were alone. Billy Palmer had agreed to leave all of his recordings on the basis that he could spend more time with Deans at a later date. Sarah had opened another bottle of wine and was doing a fine job of seeing it off all by
herself.

  ‘This is a joke, right?’ she said between rushed sips.

  Deans shook his head. ‘Afraid not.’

  ‘You communicate with the dead?’

  ‘I have done.’

  Her eyes bounced around his face with an awkward urgency.

  ‘How exactly?’

  ‘I don’t know. It just happens.’

  ‘When? When did you start seeing ghosts and when were you going to let me in on this little secret?’

  Deans returned his head to his hands.

  ‘I suppose she knows?’

  ‘Who?’ Deans said into his wrists.

  ‘Denise Moon.’

  Deans slowly peeled his face from his hands and turned to Sarah.

  ‘I don’t want this. I don’t understand this and I certainly don’t need this, but it’s real. I’m not sleeping at night because I’m seeing things I don’t want to see. I’m scared to close my eyes because of what they show me.’

  ‘What do they show you?’ Sarah’s tone softened and she bounced closer towards him, her knee resting on top of his leg, her hands wrapped around his.

  Deans rocked his head and clenched his teeth. ‘Disturbing. Brutal. Tragic. Personal things.’

  ‘Are you seeing crimes being committed?’

  He nodded. ‘Probably.’

  ‘Any that you… know?’

  He bunched his eyes and lowered his chin.

  Sarah gripped his hand tightly and pulled herself close in to him. ‘Andy,’ she softly spoke. ‘You’re not alone in this. Let me in. I can help you.’

  Deans could feel her breath on the side of his face. His heart rate quickened and he breathed in her sweet scent, and held it deep in his chest. He felt a light hand rest on the inside of his thigh. Eyes still closed, he swallowed deeply and turned his head into her breath, and felt the warm moisture of her lips upon his.

  Chapter 19

  Deans began to cough long before he opened his eyes. He rolled over and pulled a pillow over his face. He knew he had to sleep. Today was going to be a significant day and he needed to be fresh. He’d even refused an alcoholic drink from Denise. He hadn’t stayed with Sarah. Her lips were like daggers to his heart. He wrapped his arm over the pillow and pulled it tight to his face, but it was no use. He opened his eyes, his eyelashes brushing the white cotton case as he blinked. His breathing became shallow and his heart pounded loudly against the warm duvet. He tossed the pillow to the base of the bed and eased himself up onto his elbows with a groan, and spluttered as his eyes cut through the sludge of darkness towards the window.

  He stared motionless for a disoriented second and then tossed the duvet aside, leaping to his feet with a start as a glow from the window drapes brought flickering light into the room. A bright amber flash of light blinded him, and he stumbled backwards into the dressing table as one of the thin material curtains flared instantly into flames and a cloud of black smoke tumbled its way up to the ceiling and rolled towards him like a large breaking wave.

  He ducked down and looked towards the door. It was closed.

  ‘Denise,’ Deans shouted. ‘Denise. Denise.’

  Another explosion of bright flame forced him to shield his face. He quickly looked around. A tall glass of water had been left on the bedside table. He grabbed it and directed it above the flames, careful not to waste any on the wall. The fire erupted as if he’d just thrown petrol and he was forced back by the blast of hot light.

  ‘Denise,’ Deans screamed, his voice now as desperate as the situation demanded. He wrapped his neatly folded suit jacket around his knuckles, pulled it tight between his hands and lunged towards the fire in an attempt to starve it of oxygen. He felt the material melting onto his skin and heard the crackle of singeing hair on the backs of his hands. He grimaced in pain and immediately dropped the coat.

  ‘Jesus! Get out, Denise. Get out of here.’

  The fire was now well beyond his control, and he then made out a face peering in at him from the outside of the window. It was Sarah Gold.

  ‘Get away, Sarah.’ He waved frantically. ‘Please, get away from the window.’

  A huge rolling ball of flame passed inches above his head and he sank to his knees. He gawped helplessly at the devastation. The door burst open and Denise stepped inside the room and turned on the light.

  ‘Get back,’ Deans screamed.

  Her calming smile confused him. He shot a look back to the window. The curtains were drawn. There was no fire… and there was no danger.

  His chest heaved as he came to terms with his latest night terror.

  ‘Andy, you’re okay. You’re safe. There’s nothing to fear.’

  Deans stared between Denise and the window. He struggled for breath, like he’d just sprinted to the room. He was standing beside his bed, just as he had been in the dream.

  He gulped air and perched on the edge of the bed.

  ‘You’re okay,’ Denise comforted and sat down beside him. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘Was it Maria again?’

  Deans licked his lips and shook his head. ‘No,’ he uttered.

  Denise smiled. ‘It’s alright. You’re perfectly safe here.’

  Deans blinked focus back into his eyes and steadied his breath.

  ‘What was it this time?’ Denise asked.

  Deans groaned, shook his head and dropped back into bed, pulling the sheets tight beneath his chin.

  Denise stood in the doorway. ‘Shall I leave the light on in the hallway and half-close the door?’

  Deans nodded and within seconds had drifted back to sleep.

  Denise was waiting for Deans at the breakfast table. A steaming mug of coffee and two poached eggs on toast were on the place mats opposite.

  ‘Morning,’ Deans said and took his seat.

  ‘Morning.’ Denise sipped from her cup and smiled at him. ‘I’ve got something for you,’ she said and handed Deans a department store carrier bag.

  He looked inside and found a twin-pack of pale blue shirts, three pairs of white boxer shorts and three pairs of black socks.

  ‘I forgot to give them to you last night. I thought they would probably make you feel better.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Deans said and slurped from his mug.

  He removed the shirts, checked the size of the collar and chuckled.

  ‘Did the spirits tell you?’ he asked.

  ‘No. I looked at your shirt label when you were showering yesterday morning.’

  He lifted a pair of the boxers and checked the tag. ‘Thank you. I really appreciate the gesture. How much do I owe you?’

  Denise raised a hand and then hid behind her mug, watching Deans.

  ‘Do you want to talk about last night?’ she asked after half a minute of silence.

  ‘Thank you for cooking breakfast,’ he said evading the question.

  Denise smiled with her eyes, but continued to stare at Deans with intensity.

  ‘It was nothing,’ Deans eventually answered.

  ‘But it was different to the others?’

  Deans glanced at Denise from beneath his lids and started cutting into his breakfast.

  ‘You were calling my name.’

  Deans nodded as he chewed his first mouthful of perfectly poached egg.

  ‘So it involved me?’

  Deans bobbed a shoulder and took some coffee.

  ‘Andy, it’s important.’

  Deans placed his knife and fork down onto the plate and interlocked his fingers.

  ‘Do you think it meant something?’ he asked.

  ‘I won’t know unless you tell me. It might. Your skills are developing all of the time.’

  He wiped a finger across his lips and held her gaze. ‘There was a fire in my room – from the curtains.’

  Denise leaned forwards.

  ‘It was so real; I could feel the heat on my face. I was choking from the gasses. It was really happening.’

  ‘Yes, that’s evident from your reaction.’

  ‘I was aw
ake. I could see everything.’

  ‘That is usual in night terrors; as if the dream crosses over with reality.’ Denise narrowed her eyes. ‘There’s something else?’ she said.

  Deans nodded and lifted his coffee mug from the table.

  ‘I saw Sarah Gold looking in at me from outside the window.’

  Denise leaned back slightly in her chair. Deans picked up on the gesture.

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  Denise shook her head. ‘I don’t know – what was she doing?’

  Deans blinked his heavy lids. ‘She was grinning.’

  Denise shook her head. ‘I can’t help you there, other than to say it’s okay to be interested in somebody else—’

  ‘I’m not interested in Gold.’

  ‘I see you both together. There’s energy.’

  Deans shrugged. ‘I disagree.’

  He finished his breakfast and thanked Denise again.

  ‘Go on…’ Denise said. ‘There’s something else bothering you.’

  Deans smiled. Denise was good. He twisted his mug a couple of times to give him some thinking time.

  ‘Ever heard of auric photography?’ he asked after taking a measured sip of his drink.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Do you believe in it?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘So, it’s real?’

  ‘Completely.’

  ‘Can it show…’ he coughed behind his hand. ‘...if somebody was… different?’

  ‘Different how?’

  ‘Can we use your laptop; I want to show you something?’

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, reaching for the laptop charging on the kitchen worktop behind her.

  ‘I’ll show you.’

  Denise opened the laptop, tapped in a password and turned the screen towards Deans.

  He placed a memory stick into the USB and found the sequence Palmer had used in Sarah’s home. He found the still image he was hunting for and turned the laptop back towards Denise.

  She looked at the image. Deans studied her reaction and she looked over the top of the screen at him, stood up and left the room, returning with a smile and her spectacles on the end of her nose. She sat back down and looked closer at the screen.

  She carefully removed her glasses and placed them down on the table between herself and Deans.