The Klowns of Kent

by steve higgs

  ‘I will need you to come to the station, Mr. Michaels. You are free to do so at any point, however right now would be as good a time as any.'

  I nodded my head. ‘I’ll be along shortly. Within the hour.’ CI Quinn appeared to be content with my answer, he turned away to deal with other business. I looked around for Jane.

  I spotted her chatting with Basic and sharing his kebab. They were both sat on the bench. ‘Hey, Tempest.’ Basic called as I approached. ‘Why don’t sharks eat clowns? Because they taste funny. Hur, hur, hur.’ I smiled to be polite. Good old Basic.

  ‘Basic, I believe Amanda asked you to hang out with me for a few days.’

  ‘S’right.’ he said around a mouthful of kebab.

  ‘I need to go to the Police station shortly. You don’t need to come with me, I should be safe enough there.’

  ‘Amanda said I was to keep you safe and to thump any of dem Klowns if dey came near you.’

  ‘Okay. Well, I need some lunch so shall we meet in a few minutes?' Basic was already getting to his feet, clearly intending to accompany me wherever I was going. ‘I'm just going in that shop over there for a sandwich, Basic. You can watch the shop from here. Please finish your kebab.' I added that I would be fine since he did not look convinced and left him to finish shovelling bits of meat into his mouth.

  I returned a few minutes later with a turkey and swiss sandwich wrapped in greaseproof paper that was tucked inside my shoulder bag. Basic had finished eating and had clearly wiped his greasy fingers on his jeans to dry them. The empty kebab container was in the bin next to the bench and a pair of pigeons were underneath his seat and edging close to a few scraps he had dropped.

  As I approached, Jane got up. ‘Tempest, I forgot to tell you that I got a call just after you left the office. You have a female client visiting tomorrow morning at ten o'clock.'

  ‘What is it pertaining to?’

  ‘Same case. The Klowns. She was crying a lot so I could not make out all that she was telling me. She wanted to see you in person though, said she had information and wanted your help.'

  Information. I checked my watch. it was entirely possible the information was nothing, but I felt a pull to check it out anyway. I tapped a finger on the face of my watch idly while I debated what to do. CI Quinn was expecting me, and I actually wanted to get him on my side for once. He could be helpful to me if our relationship was less antagonistic.

  Decision made, I hauled my keys from my bag. ‘Ready when you are.' I told Basic, at which he leaped up and off we went. ‘I'll see you in the morning, Jane.' I offered back over my shoulder while we were still within earshot.

  ‘Hey, Tempest. What material do you use to make a clown outfit? Poly-jester! Hur, hur.’

  Maidstone Police Station. Tuesday, October 25th 1413hrs

  The journey to Maidstone Police station was not a long one, but the Medway Towns road infrastructure could be a testing at times and often got clogged up. Usually, it took nothing more than a broken-down car or a goods lorry unloading outside a business, to cause a large tailback. We were fortunate today and suffered no such delays.

  I checked my watch as we got out of the car: 1413hrs. I wondered if I would get anything out of this afternoon or if I would just be stuck here for hours. Basic and I walked around to the front entrance of the station and went inside.

  The Officer on the front desk noted my name and why I was there and asked me to take a seat. A dozen uncomfortable looking polypropylene chairs were arranged in two rows and welded to a bar so they could only be moved as one unit. It probably just kept them tidy.

  I slumped, already bored into one of them, and started waiting. I am not a fan of waiting for the simple reason that it is usually open-ended. The wait stops when someone else decides it should. Today, I was in the hands of CI Quinn.

  He made me wait.

  After thirty minutes, I got up and had another word with the desk Officer, a polite request that he convey to CI Quinn that I was going to leave in fifteen minutes if he had not found time for me before then. I suspected, actually, that it was not CI Quinn I needed at all. I was only giving a statement and thus I could probably give it to anyone.

  The fifteen minutes passed, so I got up and left taking Basic with me. I was disappointed. I wanted to be involved in what was going on with the Klowns. Two attacks in the space of a few days seemed unlikely to be a coincidence and from the messages I had been given, I was convinced that targeting me was very much planned.

  As I went out the door, I heard my name being called. I turned to see CI Quinn stood next to the Desk Officer. I conceded that it would be simpler to just get on with it now that he was finally ready, so I went back inside and allowed him to escort me through to a back room. Basic remained in reception, content that I would be safe from Klown attack while I was here.

  ‘Mr. Michaels, I will have a PC take your statement shortly, but I wanted to speak with you myself as once again you appear to be causing trouble that I cannot charge you with.'

  If he was looking for a reaction from me I denied him the pleasure.

  He continued regardless. ‘How is it that I find you at the centre of the Klown attacks?’

  Instead of answering a question that I was sure he knew I had no answer to, I tilted my head slightly, examining him as if he were a curiosity. He was being foolish, so I was treating him as a fool.

  ‘I need to speak with the men you have in custody.’ I made it a statement, not a request.

  ‘Certainly not.’ he scoffed.

  ‘They have targeted me twice, Chief. Do you think it a coincidence? I am given to understand that they are being tight-lipped. Do you not think that it might be worth seeing if they open up to speak with one of their intended victims?'

  He smiled at me and gave an amused chuckle. I thought it fake, but it sounded real. ‘I’ll send in that PC.’ he said on his way out the door.

  Giving my statement did not take long, a few minutes only. I collected Basic back at the entrance and thankfully escaped the Police station. I headed into town, there was an errand I needed to perform.

  At the top end of Fremlin Walk, was a florist. There were other florists around, and I could always just order flowers online, but I liked to pick my own. In the florist, I could see which flowers looked good, so that was what I did. I owed Sophie an apology, no matter whether she accepted it or not, or ever spoke to me again, it was right that I acknowledged my failing.

  I selected and paid for a spray of freesias that they would deliver to her address. I had no idea where she lived but I did know where she worked, so I sent them there with a note that I wrote myself.

  I got back to Finchampstead at 1717hrs. Basic was happy to be dropped at home. I watched him go inside before driving around the corner to my own abode. Happy dogs greeted me at the door then scampered off to the back door so they could scare the wood pigeons off the lawn.

  I settled into a peaceful evening routine of feeding myself and getting an early night in the hope that I could make up for some of the sleep I had been missing.

  Outside the Blue Moon Office. Wednesday, 26th October 0853hrs

  Despite the early night and my fatigue, I slept fitfully again. The painkillers kept the ache in my ribs at bay but movement in my sleep woke me every time. My continual grumping and groaning had caused the dogs to get off the bed during the night. They had retreated beneath me, where a folded single duvet provided a refuge in which they were supposed to sleep anyway. I gave up on sleep at 0702hrs, carried the Dachshunds downstairs and went through to the kitchen to find the kettle. Tea would help. It always does.

  The dogs barked to come back in, waking me from my sleep-deprived daze where I had been staring at the mug of tea in front of me. I opened the patio door and followed them back through to the kitchen as they shot through the office in search of kibble.

  A minute later, I was back in my home office firing up the computer while the dogs wolfed down their breakfast. Amanda has sent me a text tel
ling me there had been yet another murder. All Police were now on duty rotation until further notice and all their time off had been cancelled. She had not been able to give me the name of the latest victim because she did not yet know it. However, she would update me later.

  I could find little information online other than the victim lived in Igtham – the second from the same small village and I wondered if they might be connected. I checked my notes again and could not help thinking that I might be missing something vital. Jane and I would put more effort into finding a link between the victims later today, not just the murder victims, but the earlier ones that had just been chased, robbed or hurt.

  The clock on the computer told me it was 0742hrs so I needed to shower, eat and leave for work. Normally, I eat a healthy diet devoid of processed food, low in unhealthy fats and stodgy white carbs and I complimented that with getting plenty of exercise. Now that I could not exercise though, and arguably needed to eat less or control my diet just a little bit more stringently, I found myself craving food that I would not normally entertain. This morning I wanted sausages, like a big sausage baguette or something equally filling and satisfying. Thankfully, I did not have the baguette or the sausages in the house, a deliberate ploy on my part to help me avoid such foods but it was a grumpy version of myself that made a veggie omelette.

  The dogs appeared, offering to clean the plate as I was scraping up the last piece of courgette, so I left them licking at it on the floor as I headed for the shower. In the bathroom, I inspected my ribs in the big mirror that dominated the wall above the bath. Bruising was starting to colour, so that where it had just been dark red across an area of about fourteen inches diameter it was now tinged with yellow at the edges. Washing my hair was still a task I had to manage one-handed, but it reminded me of the many servicemen I had witnessed without limbs that got up every day and just got on with life. I kept my mouth shut rather than whine about how hard some tasks were currently. Instead, I attempted to emulate their attitude.

  The air outside was dry but cold this morning, barely more than a few degrees by my estimate. I put coats on the dogs and took them for a brisk stroll around the village to ensure the lazy creatures got some exercise. They had been reluctant to leave the warmth of the house but tugged willingly at their leads to drag me forward once they had accepted the inevitability of it.

  Soon enough, they were getting back into their bed in the lounge and I was going out the door to work. My car had been set to warm itself up and scare away the frost while I grabbed my bag from the house.

  Twenty minutes later, I pulled up next to Jane's car. She had beaten me to work as she often did but she was sat in the car still so must have just arrived. Getting out of my car, I spotted a fresh dent and a two-foot-long scrape along the front left wing and passenger's door. The leading edge of the passenger's door had been peeled back slightly and I could see mud and bits of grass stuck in her wheel arches. I rounded her car to the driver's side to check she was okay. She had obviously been in an accident of some kind, then I found a further scrape along the right rear quarter, also fresh. The car looked like it had been savaged by a bear. Possibly one made of rocks.

  ‘Are you okay?' I asked, opening the driver's door.

  Her face swung towards me, her expression all shock and bewilderment. There was mascara on her cheeks where tears had carried it south and her blonde wig was on a bit skew-whiff.

  I offered her my hand. ‘I think tea is required. Come along.' I hauled her out of the car, opened the office and got her to sit in the office chair upstairs where the trauma of whatever had happened would be far less present and memorable. I busied myself with the kettle and mugs.

  ‘It was the Klowns.’ Jane said in a quiet voice. I stiffened.

  I handed her a hot mug of tea and pulled a chair up to sit right in front of her. ‘Tell me.’

  Jane sipped the drink and clasped it between her hands as if needing to warm them. Then she started telling me about her journey to work.

  While I was at home getting ready for work, Jane was kissing her boyfriend and leaving her flat to get to work. The pair of them rented a small flat in West Farleigh on the banks of the river Medway. I had never been there but had a vague idea where their apartment was. Jane had once shown me a picture of the view from their bedroom window. Their view was the river Medway winding through the countryside not far from the local park. Okay, they didn't own the place, but it looked like a very nice place to live.

  The route to Rochester from West Farleigh was about twelve miles and took about half an hour most days. Jane slid being the wheel of her 2009 Ford Fiesta and wished, yet again, that she had a garage. The car was cold this morning and she hated scraping frost from the windscreen. By the time the task was done her right hand was thoroughly frozen and the steering wheel was as cold as ice to touch.

  She turned the heating up to full blast, now that it was starting to show signs of producing some warmth and pulled away. The inside of the windscreen was misted up, the blowers inside just beginning to clear the bottom portion so that she had to duck her head to see out. She got to the end of the street she lived on and turned onto The Hunt. By then, enough of the screen had cleared that she could sit up in her seat again. As she moved to turn left onto Smith's Hill, she thought she saw someone move in the trees on the other side of the road. She paused and looked again but there was nothing there. Had she looked up she might have seen the red balloon floating away but she decided she must have been mistaken and pulled out from the junction.

  Driving along Smith's Hill and down towards the junction where the road joined the B2163 at the Tickled Trout public-house, she saw a car in her rear-view mirror. She noticed it was because it was going so fast. It was a battered looking Land Rover which seemed oblivious to the frosty conditions, the driver unconcerned about ice on the road.

  Slowing as she reached the junction to check for traffic, it was apparent that the Land Rover was not slowing down behind her. It closed the last fifty metres in no time at all but recalling it later she would say that it also seemed to take forever. The certainty of the crash made her heart rate spike but when it came she had already taken her foot off the brake and was moving forward.

  The impact forced her head back into the headrest, violently snapping her neck as the force transferred forward again. Then before she could consider what to do or whether she was injured, the Land Rover was forcing her car forward across the street. Looking now in the rear-view mirror, Jane saw a Klown at the wheel, its unmistakable, twisted makeup stretching the mouth into an awful permanent grin. In the passenger seat was another Klown and between them, leaning though from the rear seat was yet another.

  Panicked, Jane stamped on her brake, but the small car was unable to arrest the forward motion being caused by the large four-wheel drive car pushing from behind. She tutted at her stupidity, threw the gearstick into first gear and dropped the clutch to leap forward and away from the menacing car.

  She had to twist the steering wheel savagely to avoid the trees on the far side of the road as she shot forward but succeeded and barrelled off down the road toward the Teston bridge with the Land Rover full of Klowns chasing hard behind. She turned toward the Teston bridge and realised her error with a growing dread. The bridge could only accommodate one car going in one direction at a time. If there was anything coming the other way she would be in real trouble.

  The Land Rover took the hard-left-hand corner behind her on two wheels and careened after her. As she turned the next corner she held her breath waiting to see if the bridge was clear. A car was on it and a Luton van was coming down the hill on the opposite side of the river.

  A half second of hesitation, then she gunned the accelerator and threw the gearstick into third. Working the little engine far beyond its intended limits, she shot past the back end of the oncoming car just as it cleared the narrow bridge, clipping her paintwork on the right-hand side as it caught against the stone. The bridge was centuries old an
d thus built in an era when a mode of transport more advanced than a horse was inconceivable. It was medieval stonework and as solid as can be. It was also humped in the middle to create an apex for taller boats to slip under. As she hit the apex, her wheels left the ground and she lost all ability to control where she landed.

  The van coming down the hill had not been paying attention and had not slowed to allow her to pass. Only now, as it was about to reach the entrance to the narrow bridge, did the driver see the approaching danger. The wheels of Jane's tiny Ford bit into the road as it came back to earth and smacked a glancing blow against the stonework on the left-hand side of the bridge before Jane could wrestle the wheel back under control. The poor car was battered but she knew then that she had escaped.

  The van could not stop in time but she was at the exit from the narrow portion of the bridge, so swept past it without touching either it or the widening stonework. It was not her that the van was trying to avoid though for the crazed Land Rover full of Klowns was still right on her back bumper. It slammed headfirst into the Luton van as she sped away up the hill to safety.

  A hundred metres after the bridge the road reached a tee junction where traffic forced her to stop. Glancing in her rear-view mirror, she could see the Luton van reversing out of the way. The crash looked to have been convincing, but she was not going to hang around to find out whether the Klowns could continue their pursuit.

  She pulled into traffic at a more normal pace and the Land Rover was soon lost from sight.

  By the time she arrived at the office in Rochester, her heart rate had almost returned to normal and she had finally stopped shaking. The adrenalin had diffused back into her bloodstream and left her feeling spent. She stopped the car and turned off the engine but remained in the driver's seat trying to gather herself.

  That was when I had turned up. She had not called the Police, so I did that next. However, I called Amanda rather than dialling 999.