by steve higgs
Before he could recover his composure, I stepped into his personal space, kissed him deeply as I grabbed his hands and placed them on my hips, then broke the kiss and took him to my bedroom.
Alien Quest’s Big Moment. Friday, November 11th 2100hrs
Brett was in the bathroom taking a shower while I waited for the takeaway delivery guy to arrive. I was famished and desperate to get something to eat. If he didn’t turn up soon, I was going to start delving into my chocolate bar stash. I had burned a good few calories this evening and had been hungry long before Brett showed up.
Sitting on my couch wearing a towelling robe, I was trying to find the channel on my laptop that would show tonight’s Alien Quest feature.
I found it at exactly the same point that the knock at my door finally came. I skipped across to the door in my bare feet, snagged the bag of delicious smelling goodness as I handed the delivery guy a handful of notes and closed the door with a brief thank you.
I was trying to do everything at once as I grabbed the laptop to place on the kitchen counter and opened the bag while simultaneously grabbing a plate.
Thirty seconds later I had eaten ten prawn crackers and had a spring roll to my lips as Brett emerged from my bathroom.
‘Hungry?’ He asked as I shoved the rest of the spring roll in my mouth. I nodded. Some of my appetites had been well tended to. For now. But I had ignored the empty feeling in my belly for too long.
‘What are you watching there?’ He had wrapped a towel around his waist and took a seat next to me on the couch where I had taken the plate and was watching Jack Hammer. ‘Hey, isn’t that the guy that was here earlier?’
I cleared my mouth. ‘This is Alien Quest. It's a crap show about aliens visiting earth hosted by an idiot called Jack Hammer.'
‘Jack Hammer? Is that his real name?’
‘Apparently so. My current case…’ I stopped and looked at him. ‘Do you want to talk about this? About what I do?’
‘Sure, I want to know all about you. About what you do and what your hopes for the future are. I guess we have talked plenty on our dates but not about anything significant. I don’t know that much about you.’
I forked a spoonful of crispy chicken satay into my mouth and pressed pause on my laptop while I thought about how to start. ‘You know I am a paranormal investigator, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I investigate cases that have no natural explanation from the client’s perspective. Sometimes they are easy to solve and there is no crime being committed, just a confused person that believes they are being haunted or something. My current case revolves around an alien invasion conspiracy.’ Brett eyed me sceptically. ‘Crop circles led to aliens and spacecraft being seen, milk at the farms starting to glow and a death by apparent freeze ray earlier this week.’
‘You must be kidding.’
‘I wish I was. The farmers are going bankrupt because they cannot sell their produce and they are scared as much as anything else. The frozen person was the wife of one of the farmers.
I made a mental note to call Neville and see what he had determined during the autopsy. I should have done that already but had forgotten to.
‘So, what’s the link with Alien Quest?’ He asked.
That’s what I am trying to find out. Jack is involved somehow. I think he might have faked the alien sighting and the spacecraft footage we are about to see. He might be to blame for all of it, but I don’t see him as a murderer. Not that one can tell from appearances.’
I fell silent.
‘Shall we watch?’ Brett asked.
I forked up some more of the delicious satay and rice as I clicked the play button once more.
Jack was on a stage with a large screen as a backdrop. I didn’t know where they were filming but it looked very professional for once. He was explaining to the audience that what they were about to see was the full, uncut clip captured by Milosz Kyncl just a little more than twenty-four hours ago. While he was speaking, there was dramatic music playing quietly in the background. It was slowly building in volume until it shut off suddenly when he stepped out of the way and the video footage started playing on the big screen.
Brett was quiet while it played. I had seen it before, so this time I was watching more closely, trying to find the thing that was wrong: A wristwatch on the alien, a fuzziness around the outside of the craft where it had been superimposed by a computer over the background. There was nothing though. It was still as convincing as it had been the first time I watched it.
It ended, and Jack launched into more talk about what the viewers had just witnessed and what this meant for mankind.
‘What do you think?’ I asked Brett.
‘I think two things.’ He said, sounding serious for a moment. ‘Firstly, the footage looked very real, so whoever faked it has gone to a lot of effort and therefore has something to gain. Secondly, the Chinese food is gone, and my batteries are recharged so I think it is time you had some dessert.’
When I didn’t react, he whipped his towel off and stood up. Hanging in front of my face was, well, let’s just say it was dessert.
The Awful Truth. Saturday, November 12th 0945hrs
I awoke in bed next to Brett for the second time that week. It was something I could get used to. I was almost giddy with happiness and trying to keep my feet on the ground. When he woke up, we needed to have the conversation about where this relationship was heading. It had almost happened last night when he said he wanted to know all about me, but we had been sidetracked by Jack's show and then by round five. Or was it round six?
I got up to go to the bathroom and found Brett awake when I returned.
‘Hey, babe.’ He said as I smiled at his beautiful face. ‘Did I snore last night? I don’t remember falling asleep. You kind of wore me out.’
I slid into bed and kissed him. Just a peck, not the deep, slow version I wanted because it would be an instant prelude to more rolling around on my bedsheets.
I wanted that but wanted to talk first. ‘Last night we started having a proper chat but didn’t get very far. Can we pick that up?’ I asked. I had come to rest partly on top of him. He was laying on his back, so I had sprawled diagonally across the bed with my chest across his tummy and my face against his chest. He was having to look down his nose at me a little bit but if he felt inclined to move, he made no attempt to do so.
‘What do you want to talk about?’
I met his eyes. ‘Big stuff, I guess. The future. What you want. What I want. Things that might make us incompatible.’
He sat up a little more now, so he could get a better look at me. ‘Like what?’ He wanted to know.
‘Well, like my role in your life and my job. Your comment about me not working was pretty scary.’
‘How so.’ He sat himself up a little more, so he could look at my eyes.
‘I’m independent, Brett. I have lived by myself since I was twenty-two. I earn my own money, I pay my own bills.’ I could hear Beyoncé in my head. ‘I don’t think there will ever be a time when I will not want to have my own income.’
He sighed. ‘You’re right, Amanda. It was wrong of me to suggest it. I got carried away with the big picture and convinced myself you might want to stop chasing bad guys. I like that you are independent. I will never bring it up again. Is there anything else you want to know? Fire away.’
I played with his chest hair. ‘Do you want kids?’ This was the big one for me. I wouldn’t say I was desperate for kids, I still felt that I was young enough to not worry about my biological clock, but I knew that I wanted children. I wanted them more than anything else in life.
I looked back up at him, waiting for his answer. ‘God, no.’ he replied, breaking my heart. ‘Nasty, annoying little things that poop everywhere and then learn to talk. Do you?’
A single tear rolled down my right cheek. I didn’t brush it away and he saw it. ‘That was the wrong answer, wasn’t it?’ He asked quietly. He could see my face.<
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I shook my head, struggling to find words. The perfect man beneath me was everything I wanted him to be but didn’t want the one thing I wanted more than anything else in life.
We were completely incompatible.
Instead of speaking, I lay my face against his chest and closed my eyes. I wasn’t going to cry about it. I was telling myself I should be glad that I had found out now and not later. That had been the point of asking the question.
I levered myself off him. ‘I need coffee.’ I kissed him once on the lips and left the room.
When he found me a few minutes later, I had composed myself and had a mug of hot coffee waiting for him. ‘I made you one, but I wasn't sure how you take it.' I sipped at mine as I offered him sweetener, sugar, and milk.
He asked, ‘Can we talk?’ He looked miserable, but I think he understood that we had reached a wall we could not get over.
‘Of course, Brett. I want kids though, and it’s too late now to tell me that you do.’
‘I might come around to the idea.’ He suggested.
‘I can’t take that risk, Brett. What if you don’t? We get married, I wait a couple of years for you to decide it’s what you want and then you decide that you don’t. Where would that leave me?’
‘But I think I love you, Amanda.’
I hung my head and bit my lip. I wanted to say that I loved him too, even after only a couple of weeks of dating. I wouldn’t though. I stayed silent instead.
An hour later, I was in my apartment alone. Brett had left forty minutes ago after I told him I didn’t think I could see him again. As the door closed, I had started crying, no longer able to keep the wall up that had been holding the tears inside. Now the blotchiness was finally receding from my eyes and I was forcing myself to get on with my day. I still had a case to solve.
I sat down to have a look at the information Jane had sent me yesterday. She had been chipping away at this case with me for the last few days, constantly gathering new details as I asked for them. I thought she was worth her weight in gold, an opinion that was quickly proven when I read through the latest pack from her. The first interesting item I came across was information pertaining to Glen Adongo. I had always doubted his story about being a farmer in Kenya. Maybe the part about his father's farm was true. It didn't matter. The fact was that he had lied about his background. He lied about his past as well. He said he was a farmer back home in Kenya and continued farming when he moved here, but Jane found that he was educated at the University of Nairobi where he received a first in geology. He then went on to teach in Kenya before he moved to London ten years ago.
Jane had been as thorough as she could be, which in her case meant including a full list of all the staff employed across the three farms and basic information about each of them. For some, this was nothing more than birth date, criminal history, and prior employment. She had indicated if she thought any of the people were interesting.
Then I reached the bit about Jack Hammer. As I read the research Jane had performed, the details she had been able to find as she delved into what he was doing, I couldn’t help but let a smile creep onto my face. It was time to confront him. I called the number he had given me.
‘Jack this is Amanda.’ I said when he picked up.
‘Ah, good morning, Amanda. I was expecting your call. The position is of course still open.’
‘What position?’
‘Co-host on my show, of course. that is why you are calling, isn't it? It should be. The phone has barely stopped ringing all night. I am on a BBC 1 talk show tomorrow evening. If you say yes now, I might be able to get you on the show with me. Massive publicity, massive. Watch the sponsors roll in now.'
All I said was, ‘Meet me at the office in Rochester in thirty minutes.’ I never gave him a chance to argue. He had been pursuing me so doggedly this week that I was certain he would drop everything. On top of the information Jane had provided, I had spotted something myself. Something I was going to make Jack look at and try to deny.
I had dressed already, but I was unhappy with my outfit choice. Today's tasks demanded something that suggested I shouldn't be messed with. Off came the comfortable boyfriend style jeans, t-shirt and Jack Wills hoody I had been slouching around the house in, and on went sheer, black tights, my red and black checked form-fitting dress with the mini-skirt and cuffed sleeves and a pair of black Caterpillar boots that looked like they could kick through doors. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail as if I were going running, added a swipe of mascara and a three-quarter length black leather jacket. My reflection screamed killer-bitch and the boots would be handy if there were anyone that needed to be kicked today.
A little voice from inside told me I was compensating for the loss of yet another promising boyfriend and trying to look tough when I wasn’t. It got kicked in the whatnots and told to shut up. I was going to win.
Somehow, I was going to win. Winners make it happen, right?
Rochester High Street. Saturday, November 12th 1115hrs
Saturday morning in Rochester High Street is much the same as any other morning. As a tourist destination, it attracts people from all over the world, but its proximity to Dover meant that most of them were European. On any given day, a walk through the historic streets of Rochester will yield a plethora of accents and dialects. I was a big fan of the place myself, it was so pretty with its centuries old buildings and quaint cobbled streets. The pokey alleyways that hid wonderful shops selling baked goods or artwork were all marvels to explore. Somehow, when winter came, it was even more romantic and when it snowed it looked like a fairy-tale setting.
There was no snow today, but I had been too miserable to eat breakfast when Brett left and then too determined to get out of the house to remember that I hadn’t eaten. Now it was nearing lunchtime and I was hungry yet again.
The car had been left in its usual spot behind the office, but where I would then normally open the back door and go inside, I went around the building to the High Street in search of sustenance.
In a few weeks, the Christmas markets would be here every day, giving Rochester a new feel and smell as the scent of Bratwurst and onions or Gluewein filled the air.
For now, I would settle for a warm sandwich from the coffee shop. The bell tinkled as I pushed my way into the warm interior and joined the short queue at the counter. I checked my watch to see that I still had ten minutes before Jack’s half hour was up. I didn’t know where he had been when I spoke to him, but if he was too far away to arrive in thirty minutes, he hadn’t messaged to say so.
The queue moved forward, giving me a view of the sandwiches neatly wrapped inside the glass stand beneath the counter. I checked to make sure the brie and bacon panini I wanted was there and snagged it as the person in front of me took another step forward.
Serving at the counter was Hayley. I knew her name because it was written in big swirling letters on a badge pinned to her chest. I was fairly certain Tempest had enjoyed a fling with her a while back. They gave off a distinct vibe whenever they got near each other. Thinking about that though reminded me that Tempest never seemed to have any luck with his relationships either. He was seeing someone now, at least I thought he was, but if that was the case, he didn't talk about her and showed no signs of having had an amazing night the night before. I wondered about Tempest sometimes. He was good looking and successful and above all he was nice. He was just a really nice guy. I started to wonder what he thought about having kids when Hayley called "Next, please" and it was my turn to be served. It broke my train of thought and I squashed the idea when it resurfaced again after my order was placed.
I had just broken up with Brett, I didn’t need to start something new anytime soon and certainly not with my employer.
Five minutes later, I was inside the office and wishing I had come in earlier to switch the heating on before going for food. The timer was sensibly set to off for the weekends when typically, none of us came in. We could work from home if we were in
volved in a case. However, I wanted to confront Jack here rather than at my apartment since every time he went there, I was either naked or very nearly naked.
As I chomped through my sandwich, the warm cheese threatening to spill out, I powered up my computer.
A knock at the front door drew my attention. Expecting the person outside to be Jack Hammer and not a hopeful customer with a new problem, I stuffed the last bite of sandwich in my mouth and wiped my lips with the napkin.
‘Good morning, Jack.’ He was stood outside with his usual jovial expression as if nothing in the world could possibly dent his happy mood.
I was going to give it my best shot.
‘I know about the Polish driver.’ I said as he came inside.
I watched his face to see how it reacted, but his smile seemed to be painted on. It didn’t crack at all. He said, ‘Whatever do you mean, Amanda?’
‘The driver doesn’t exist. There is no such person as Milosz Kyncl. Who was the driver Jack? Was it Bob?’
‘What do you mean the driver doesn’t exist? I spoke with him myself.’ Then his expression finally changed as his eyes widened in disbelief. ‘Oh, my God. They got him already. Twenty-four hours and they already made him vanish and erased his identity. Oh, that poor man.’
‘What are you talking about, Jack?’
‘You think he doesn’t exist because he doesn’t. He did, but they will have kidnapped and murdered him and then destroyed all trace of him having ever existed. I bet if you went to his house you would find a new fake family living there now that would claim they had been there for years.’
Once again, Jack had an answer that defied logic but also made sense and he was sticking with it.
I wanted to ask who he meant when he said they but asking the question would just elicit another tirade of utter nonsense.
Instead, I asked, ‘Just how deep in are you, Jack?’
‘You have me all wrong, Amanda?’ I could hear the fake innocence dripping from his voice.