by steve higgs
‘Damn right.’ Agreed Patience. ‘So, we are here to help you slip into something less comfortable and more… exciting.’
‘I don’t want men to stare at me.’ I really didn’t. I got enough of it no matter what I wore.
Charity disagreed. ‘Of course, you do, honey. Men will stare and then they will buy us drinks and the club security will let us in for free. It’s how we roll.’
I looked at Charity and then at Patience and then at their younger sister Hope. They all bore they same hopeful expression of encouragement. With a sigh, I accepted my fate and gave in.
‘Pick me an outfit. Go on.’ I also put my hand out, so Patience could put a drink in it.
I hadn’t drunk apple sours for years.
Bar Nineteen. Saturday, November 12th 2000hrs
By eight o'clock I was on my fifth drink and feeling quite the buzz already. Patience, Hope, and Charity had waited until I accepted defeat and had then stampeded to my bedroom where they proceeded to rip my wardrobe apart.
When they were done, they were good enough to put it all back, but I was left with the slinky, gorgeous and crazy-expensive black dress that Brett had bought me on our weekend in Paris. I told them I didn't want to wear it because of the whole relationship thing with him and in return, I got a lecture about being the woman and not shedding no tears for a man. There was even some finger waggling from the three of them.
Now we were in Bar Nineteen, cleverly named because it was at number nineteen Week Street in Maidstone town centre, and the alcohol was flowing.
There were thirty-two of us in total as several other girls had brought along a friend or friends. One girl had even invited her super-gay brother who was wearing more makeup than any of the girls despite his beard. His gregarious personality and over the top attitude to everything made him an instant hit. Plus, he was some kind of hedge fund analyst in the city or something and was buying all the drinks like it was pocket change.
‘Hey, Amanda.’ It was Paige, one of the younger police officers at the station.
‘Oh, hi, Paige.’ She was already tipsy.
‘How’s the new job going?’ She asked.
I said, ‘Just fine. I prefer it.’ But I could see she had a knowing smile on her face that suggested she didn’t want to ask about my job at all. ‘What?’
‘I saw you on the internet.’ She gushed. A couple of the girls standing nearby heard her and turned their attention our way.
I merely raised an eyebrow, unsure what she was referring to. She had said it as if she had just discovered I used to make porno videos and had kept it secret all these years.
Paige was fishing her phone from her tiny clutch handbag. A tampon spilled onto the tile as she yanked it free. ‘Oops.’ She scooped it back into the bag. ‘I grew up with four brothers that were into Doctor Who and all that sci-fi stuff and I kinda got hooked on it too.’ She was now explaining to a small group as more and more people turned to see what was happening. ‘So, I watch an internet show called Alien Quest.’
Bugger.
‘There's a really good-looking fellow on it called Jack Hammer and…' she made sure everyone was listening. ‘Amanda is the new co-host.'
FFS!
People were congratulating me, even though I was sure most of them had no idea what for. I kept saying that it was a mistake, but no one was hearing me. That was what Paige had meant when she asked me about my new job.
‘The bit where you kicked him in the nuts was priceless.’ Said Paige. ‘Will there be more of that sort of comedy? The show badly needed an injection of entertainment. It looked like you really kicked him too.’
Paige had been fiddling with her phone and had now found the clip she wanted. Faces gathered around the phone, girls near the front scooching down so others at the back could see. Extra faces were joining at the back to see what there was to see, so now we had random men that were in the bar lining up at the back to catch a glimpse. No doubt the men were also propelled by a desire to interact with the horde of ladies in slinky cocktail dresses and this had given them an excuse.
There was near silence in the bar as the clip was replayed. I stood alone on the other side of the phone not wanting to see myself on camera. I heard Jack’s voice though and then my own and there was a collective yay from the girls and an oooh from the men when my foot connected with Jack’s spuds.
The footage ended but was replayed over and over by different groups as the crowd watching it through the first time broke into smaller groups for discussion. In some cases, the girls in our group had noticed the boys that had joined us, and pairing was beginning to occur.
‘That was quite the show.' I turned to find the super-gay brother whose name I had yet to learn. He was heartachingly pretty in an almost flawless way. He was tall and thin but not skinny. More like an endurance athlete than a gym goer but his skin was radiant and his perfectly even, white teeth showed constantly as he never seemed to stop smiling. His beard was clipped short and like his hair, it appeared to be fresh from the barber's shop. I might have been attracted to him if it were not for the heavy and ornate eye makeup and dark purple lipstick.
‘It's not what people think.' I got a quizzical face in return. ‘They think I am the co-host for that stupid internet show and the kick was staged. I'm not and it wasn't.'
‘Oh, so you did kick him in the nuts, live in front of millions of people?’
‘I don’t think his viewership extends to millions, but yes.’
‘Is there some history there, love?’ He asked, a smile teasing the corner of his mouth.
‘No!’ Urh. The very thought. Jack was such a slime bag.
‘Fair enough.' He conceded though I was not sure he believed me. ‘I'm Roy. Do you know my sister?'
‘Maisy? Yes, I was a police officer until a couple of days ago.’
We chatted briefly about nothing much, then around us, I saw that the girls were gathering their coats and bags. The group was decamping to the club across the street.
In da Club. Saturday, November 12th 2225hrs
The base was pumping inside the walls of the club. We had a VIP area reserved which meant we could abandon our bags and not think about them as the hulking but silent security guy guarding our booth would make sure they were safe. I was left alone in the booth though. All the other girls had shot off, leaving me with a glass of something fizzy and sweet that was supposed to be VIP champagne. I had tasted proper champagne. Brett had a love for it. I caught myself thinking about him. It was a natural thing to do after a breakup, but the truth was, we had barely dated, and we had only slept together a couple of times. Still, he had been fantastic, an utterly wonderful gentleman. If it were not for the baby thing, I might be getting distracted by the displays in the bridal shop windows. I was confused by it all, by my emotions more than anything else. The alcohol had lowered my defences, letting disappointment and weak thoughts sneak in.
Patience bumped against me as she sat down. ‘Hey, girl. You see all these fine men? Why aren’t you dancing with someone?’
The answer to that question was multi-faceted but was mostly to do with my opinion that no one ever meets anyone in a club. It is impossible to have a conversation over the noise unless one retreats to the quieter bar upstairs and the men came here for hook-ups, not looking for their future significant other. I had no interest in hooking up.
Another big reason why I was sitting in the booth by myself and not mixing was not to do with Brett, but all to do with the alien milk case. There was something there that I was missing. Something about Glen and his wife and the two farmer’s wives…
‘What’s going on inside that big blonde noggin, Amanda?’ Patience asked using her serious tone.
‘Nothing much. Thinking about life. Thinking about Brett. Thinking about this stupid case and what I am missing.’
‘Now is not the time to be blue, Amanda. Everyone is having fun around you. Just stop thinking and enjoy the atmosphere. Answers will come when they are read
y.’
I twirled my drink in my fingers, trying to think of something to say.
Patience sat herself up properly and grabbed my free hand. ‘Tell me. Explain it in simple terms I can understand, and I will share the burden with you.’
‘You would do that, wouldn’t you?’ Patience was a real friend. Not one that would disappear at the first sign of trouble.
‘Of course, sweetie. Sisters share everything.’ She took the drink out of my hand and downed it to prove a point. ‘Except men. Sisters never share men. That creates all kinds of problems.’
What she had said made me think about the case. ‘I have to go.’ I told Patience as I grabbed my clutch bag.
She blocked my way. ‘Oh no, you don't. Missy, we never go out anymore. You are going to stay here with me and you are going to have a good time. You don't have to get close to no man if you don't want to. You can come dance with me and my sisters. Charity is married, and Hope is saving herself because she wants to be Prime Minister one day and can't have a shady past.'
Patience’s face was imploring. I wanted to get home and do research, but she was right, we didn’t go out much anymore and I was already here. Was I becoming boring?
Concerned that I was turning into an old spinster, I let Patience take my hand and pull me onto the dance floor where her two sisters were throwing shapes and getting the attention of half a dozen men. To be fair, I think most of the attention was directed toward the tall, athletic and gorgeous Hope, but the men were not making it too overtly obvious.
I promised myself I would stop drinking at that point, so I could have a clear head by the time I got home. I would enjoy a couple of hours out with some friends, get home late for once and then, when I got in, I would sift through the pack of background information James had sent.
I would solve this crime before I got into bed.
A Discovery. Sunday, November 13th 0915hrs
I heard my phone beep. It woke me, although truthfully, I was already mostly awake but electing to remain in bed where I was warm and cozy and didn’t have to find out how my head felt. That would happen when I sat up.
The phone beeped again, which it always did if I didn’t read the message it had beeped about the first time. I glanced at my clock. It was after nine. I groaned both internally and physically as I tried to remember what had happened.
I could distinctly remember deciding that I was going to stop drinking as I could then come home to do research. We had been dancing… Shots! Someone had shouted for shots and one of the boys we had been talking to, appeared with a tray of them. I had tried to resist… That sounded right.
What had happened then? Clear memories of the night were failing to coalesce. I had woken alone, which was something to be thankful for and as I gazed around the room, I could see my dress hung on the wardrobe door on the little hanger it came with, so I had been alert enough to deal with basic admin tasks when I came in.
Ruefully, I started to get up, moving slowly in anticipation of my head beginning to pound. I had been wearing nothing beneath my dress last night, the dress didn't really allow for it, so it was no surprise that I was naked. I found a small bruise on my left thigh which I had no explanation for but otherwise, I was fine. My head even seemed to be devoid of hangover. I would get some water in me anyway to fight latent dehydration.
Remembering that I showed all I had to Jack and Uncle Knobhead just a couple of days ago, I slipped on a dressing gown before I opened my bedroom door and peeked out. There was no sign of anyone.
I looked about for my phone. Its beep had woken me but now it was silent, and I couldn't find it. My clutch bag was on the kitchen counter, but the phone wasn't in it. I gave up searching and picked up the kettle instead. I made coffee and stood blowing the surface of it. I wanted it to be cool enough to drink.
My phone beeped. I froze, trying to pinpoint where the noise had come from. I knew it would beep again in just a few seconds. I held my breath. The beep came, I spun to face the direction of the noise but still couldn’t see it. I started lifting things to look under them and found it next to the oven and under the oven gloves.
What were they doing out?
The message was from Kieron:
Amanda, sorry, things have changed. Your services will no longer be required. Please provide a final bill.
I read it twice, which didn't take long and wondered what had happened. Was he bored with my lack of progress? I was getting somewhere with the case now. I had only been at it for three days after all. I had explained that it would take time to piece it all together. Maybe the milk had gone back to normal? Maybe the culprit had been caught red-handed putting pills into the cows feed.
I called him to at least obtain a clearer picture. I got no answer though. I tried once more with the same result then replied to his text message. A simple question:
Did you solve the case?
While I waited for an answer, I sipped my coffee.
‘Do I smell coffee?’
The sudden and unexpected voice made me jump and spill my drink. Patience was on my sofa. She had clearly slept there and was now struggling to lever herself into an upright position.
I had totally forgotten that she had decided to come back to my place last night. Why had that been a good idea?
Then I remembered the pizza. We had been discussing food and as soon as we started talking about it, we were both too hungry to not eat. Everywhere except the greasy kebab place was shut so I had suggested the frozen pizza that I had at home.
That was why the oven gloves were out.
I opened the oven, unsure what I would find. The answer was frozen pizza. Or more accurately, defrosted frozen pizza that was just as cooked as it had been when I put it in there. It hung limply over the bars of the oven shelf at the edges. At least I had taken it out of the packaging even though I hadn’t turned the oven on.
I shrugged and cranked the dial on the oven as I closed the door. Pizza for breakfast sounded really good and my stomach gave a growl at the thought.
Patience had managed to get to her feet. Her dress had gotten all turned around as she slept in it, so she was fighting to straighten it out without taking it off.
‘I might have drunk too much last night.’ She admitted, then yawned deeply, lost her balance as she closed her eyes and fell over.
I flicked the kettle back on to make more coffee.
Just as the clock flicked over to ten o’clock, Patience came out of my bathroom with a towel wrapped around her hair and another around her torso. ‘I need bacon.’ She announced.
‘You just ate half a pizza.’ I pointed out.
She raised her eyebrows. ‘That little thing? That was barely a snack. It’s breakfast time. Patience needs bacon.’
I changed the subject. ‘I’m going to the houses of the college kids this morning. You want to see them again?’
‘You damned skippy I do. I owe that skinny, little dick a smack in the trousers. Bacon first though.’
‘There’s some in the fridge.’ I looked at the clock. ‘Tell you what, I’ll make you a bacon sandwich, you dry your hair and get dressed and we’ll set off once you have eaten, okay.’
‘Fine by me.’ Patience flounced into my bedroom as I pulled out my grill and loaded it with bacon rashers.
The hair drier came on as Patience began singing to herself.
Five minutes later I walked the bacon sandwich into my bedroom to find Patience back in her outfit from last night.
‘You’re going out in that?’
‘Patience looked at herself in the mirror. ‘Yeah. I look hot.’
It was not the adjective I would have used but I went with it. ‘Not exactly the outfit for investigating crime though. Will you be comfortable?’
She slid her feet into four-inch-high heels and stood up. ‘It’s what I’ve got. If you want me to change, we need to go via my house for a new outfit.’
I was closing in on the case, but I had plenty to do today without add
ing in delays and detours. ‘You look hot.’ I agreed. ‘Let’s go kick some ass.’
Patience grabbed the sandwich, took a hefty bite from it and let her eyes roll back in a display of ecstasy.
Thirty minutes later I stopped the car in front of 54 Hopkirk Drive in Twydall. It was just before eleven o'clock on a Sunday morning in a pleasingly well-tended housing estate. The houses were all detached with garages and neat front lawns. There were lots of trees and the cars parked on driveways were mostly new. The ones that weren't new were most likely the property of teenage children. It looked like a nice place to live.
The driveway of the house had a fifteen-year-old French-made P.O.S. car on it that had to belong to Christian Rogers. This was the house of his mother. A fast check this morning had revealed the father had absconded some years ago.
Patience accompanied me to the front door which was answered before I could knock. The woman inside was in a business suit and heels with a briefcase under her arm. She looked like a lawyer. We caught her by surprise as she was clearly opening the door to leave, not because she had seen us.
‘Oh!' She exclaimed. ‘You gave me a fright. Sorry I was just leaving.'
She looked the pair of us up and down. If she thought Patience’s outfit choice for this time on a Sunday was odd, then she kept it to herself. Patience flashed her police ID. Since she had it with her it seemed the simplest way of getting the woman’s attention.
‘Mrs. Rogers?' I asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Is Christian home?’
The question seemed to catch her off guard. ‘Has he done something?’
Patience spoke, ‘That’s what we hope to find out.’
‘What do you know about his dealing with crop circles?’ I asked.
The woman was hovering, half in and half out of her door, keys in one hand and briefcase still tucked under her arm. Until I asked that question, she had looked like she was going to push through us at any second. Now she sagged. ‘I knew it. I knew that device would cause problems.’
‘What device?’ Patience and I asked simultaneously.