DVD Extras Include: Murder (The Mervyn Stone Mysteries, #2)

by Nev Fountain

  Mick impaled a chip, dipped it in some special sauce and dropped it into her mouth. ‘I’ll tell you what changed. That statuette got nicked.’

  ‘Yes. The statuette. Cheryl thought it was all tied up with that statuette. She thought the Godbotherers were after it. She said Marcus thought it held some kind of secret that they would kill for. How are you doing with finding it?’

  ‘You’d like to know how I’m doing with finding that statuette?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Fucking terrible.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Until last night.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I did all the usual police stuff; went through Trace, Bumblebee, looked up the dodgy pawnshops. Sweet fanny fuck-all.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Then I gave up and went on the fan forums. It was much easier. The fan network is much better at tracking down this stuff than any coppers. You’ve got hundreds of experts online, and they all know when something iffy is going on. Can’t keep secrets from the fans.’

  ‘So I gather.’

  ‘There’s a forum called Voices from the Void, and they’ve got a chatroom attached. I got told on the forum last night that some bloke called “SpikeL” had been in the chatroom a couple of nights ago, trying to see if anyone was interested in buying a choice piece of memorabilia, a statuette of the Virgin Mary.’

  ‘Really? Oh fantastic. What’s his name? Spike… Elle?’

  ‘SpikeL. “Spike” with a capital “L” on the end. One word. That’s his username.’

  ‘Do you think he’s selling the statuette so he can buy drugs?’

  ‘“User” as in computer user.’

  ‘Ah. I see. So how do we find him?’

  ‘Only one thing for it; someone has to loiter around the chatroom waiting for him to turn up again.’

  ‘Great stuff. Let me know what you find out.’

  ‘I’m on nights all this week…’ Mick leaned in and looked deep into his eyes. ‘But I will pull a sickie and spend the rest of the week sitting in that chatroom. Because you are Mervyn fucking Stone.’

  Mervyn flinched. He was in enough trouble with the police without encouraging an officer to waste time surfing the internet.

  ‘Don’t worry. I don’t want you in trouble with your superiors.’ He stuck his jaw out with grim determination, and stood up. ‘I’ll go into that chatroom, as myself, and I’ll hang around there all night, as long as it takes. I will use my own name, and I will make small talk about Vixens, Star Trek, Torchwood or even that film with the teenage vampires until I find out what I want.’ He made a dignified exit into the gents toilets, which was made slightly less dignified when he tripped over a mop that was being pushed across the floor by a bored employee.

  Mick watched the toilet door close behind him. ‘Mervyn fucking Stone. There goes a brave man.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  (Fnar) I don’t remember that.

  (Styrob) yes there eyes didnt glow at all

  (Fnar) Ill have to look at my copy

  User Ed 69 has entered the room

  (Ed69) evening all

  (Fnar) evening

  (Styrob) and there voices wer funny

  (Primegurl) evening ed

  (Primegurl) I had spicy sausage pizza from tecos for tea.

  (Primegurl) tescos

  (Styrob) its not out yet on DVD yet

  (Ed69) what’s occurring?

  (Fnar) I have a copy recorded off-air

  (Fnar) My dad kept his video he made in the 80s

  (Styrob) cool

  User Daveboy has entered the room

  (Fnar) My dad fancied medulla

  (Styrob) LOL

  (Styrob) who did’nt?

  (Ed69) I fancied Medula

  (Ed69) and so did my wife

  (Styrob) LOL

  User Mervynstone has entered the room

  (Fnar) Hy Mervynstone

  (Ed69) Hi

  (Primegurl) evening Mervynstone

  (Mervynstone) Hello. Again.

  (Styrob) wb Mervin

  (Ed69) Hi

  (Primegurl) I had a poster of Medula on my wall I fancyd her so much

  (Styrob) Your a girl!!!!!

  (Fnar) wa-hay! *waggles eyebrows at Primegurl*

  (Primegurl) no im not

  (Mervynstone) Sorry to bother all of you…again…

  (Fnar) awww

  (Mervynstone) You’re probably sick of me asking…

  (Mervynstone)… But do any of you chaps know of someone called ‘SpikeL’?

  (Fnar) Mervynstone: no, still not heard of him. Soz.

  (Primegurl) Im primegurl cos im prime gurl material lol

  (Fnar) u sed it

  (Ed69) SpikeL? Yeah I know him

  User Daveboy has left the room

  (Primegurl) Fnar: LOLZ!

  (Mervynstone) Ed 69: Really?

  (Ed69) SpikeL. Yeah.

  (Mervynstone) Thank god! I’ve been hanging around here for three whole nights!!! I feel like I’m ordering a meal in a Parisian restaurant. Everyone knows what I’m saying but no one wants to speak my language!

  (Ed69) He was on a few nights ago talking about Vixens AFAIR

  (Mervynstone) He had an affair with someone from ‘Vixens’? Was it Samantha Carbury?

  (Ed69) AFAIR. One F. Stands for—As Far As I Remember

  (Mervynstone) Oh, I see. And people saying LOL at me doesn’t mean they’re sitting comfortably and lolling about, right?

  (Ed69) No

  (Mervynstone) What did ‘SpikeL’ say?

  (Ed69) He wanted to sell his stature

  (Ed69) statue

  (Ed69) Said it was a collectors item from the series. Exclussive.

  (Styrob) Primegurl: so u r a boy

  (Primegurl) Yeah sorry

  (Styrob) This posting has been blocked by our obscenity filters.

  (Ed69) was a Virgin Mary

  (Mervynstone) Really? Did you buy it?

  (Fnar) virginlol

  (Ed69) NO WAY! Wanted five thousand for it

  (Styrob) Were al virgins here I bet

  (Fnar) lol

  (Ed69) I told him 2 go 2 big collectors. They might want it

  (Mervynstone) Did you tell him who might want it

  (Mervynstone) ?

  (Styrob) Not simon josh LOL

  (Fnar) Bad karma Styrob

  User Styrob has left the room

  (Ed69) Yes

  (Ed69) E-mail me off list and I’ll tell you who.

  (Mervynstone) What?

  (Ed69) Click on my name in the guest list. You’ll get my e-mail.

  (Mervynstone) Thank you so much. I’m so grateful for this, I am willing to pay you a little something.

  (Ed69) No worries. Glad to help.

  (Mervynstone) Perhaps a signed copy of a script book or something?

  (Primegurl) r u realy Mervin stone?

  (Mervynstone) I am. Nice to meet you, Primegurl. Well, I’m not really meeting you at all, am I? But you know what I mean.

  (Primegurl) LOL

  (Ed69) No need for payment

  (Ed69) I’ll take the statue when you’ve finished LOL

  (Ed69) Signed script book wld b fine

  (Mervynstone) Okay.

  (Mervynstone) What does LOL mean?

  User Ed69 has left the room

  User Mervynstone has left the room

  (Primegurl) He didnt know what LOL ment

  (Fnar) LOL

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  ‘Primegurl’ sat back in his seat and removed his hands from the keyboard.

  At last.

  His mission was so sensitive he couldn’t even risk asking about the statue in the chatroom. Anybody could have been lurking there, hoping to pick up information. After all, that’s what he was doing.

  He had to wait until ‘SpikeL’ blundered in again, so he spent his evenings flirting and talking nonsense, waiting. But ‘SpikeL’ never showed.

  And then along came ‘Mervynstone’.
/>
  It didn’t take much to hack into ‘Ed69’s’ account, look at all his postings and find out who he’d recommended to ‘SpikeL’ as a possible buyer for the statue.

  Time to put the hood back on.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Holland Park was a very nice area of London. There were long rows of Victorian houses lining the streets; none of them had clusters of bells by the door. None of them had been converted into flats.

  It was very pretty. Nevertheless, Mervyn felt unnerved as he strode along the streets, walking slowly in the pools of light flung out by the streetlamps, glancing at his Google Earth map and dashing through the blackness in between. The map was a patchwork of pixels; as far as the view from space was concerned, most of the houses along this street didn’t exist. A sure sign that Mervyn was in the presence of serious money.

  He had a feeling he was being followed. No, it wasn’t a feeling. He knew he was being followed. He’d heard the throaty roar of a motorcycle engine. He heard it come very close, and then stop. Then, minutes later, he saw someone illuminated by a streetlight; someone in leathers and a biker’s helmet was walking about 40 yards behind him. Walking slowly, not hurrying.

  The biker was off his bike. Why hadn’t he taken his helmet off?

  Mervyn tested a theory. He turned into a side street and picked up speed. He stepped into the drive of an eye-wateringly expensive house and peered around a stone pillar. The biker was at the junction, looking around, left, right and left again. Then the biker walked back along the main road.

  When Mervyn was sure that the biker had gone, he slipped out of the drive and continued on his way. The opulent houses gradually gave way to ostentatious houses, and soon he found himself outside the gates of a house that was about the size and value of a small village.

  He pressed the intercom, there was a chime, and the gates swung open.

  * * *

  ‘Greetings to you, Mervyn Stone,’ said Graham Goldingay. He stood in the doorway, resplendent in an expensive dressing gown, monogrammed slippers decorating his feet. To Mervyn’s mind, with his huge round head and jowly face, Graham looked like Orson Welles, bald cap on head, relaxing between takes on the set of Citizen Kane.

  Mervyn was ushered into Graham’s amazing house. He had never been in such an impressive foyer—not since he’d been to the Natural History Museum anyway. Just staring at the ceiling made him dizzy, it was so high. Wide windows decorated with coloured glass threw patterns across the floor.

  There was another reason why it resembled the Natural History Museum; the middle of the foyer also contained a dinosaur; a cheap flimsy creature hung up with strings and encased in glass.

  ‘It’s a genuine prop from the episode “The Salandrian Inheritance”,’ said Graham. ‘It cost me £20,000. Simon Josh went up to £18,000, but I beat him. That was a great moment.’ Graham looked sternly at him, bunching his features together in a tight wrinkled mass. ‘Now, you said you had something important to ask me. I hope you have decided to end your self-imposed exile in regards to my independent productions…’

  ‘Sorry Graham, I’m hard at work on my first novel.’

  ‘Oh well, I’m sure you wouldn’t deny my production company the first opportunity to adapt your book for the screen?’

  ‘Let’s talk about that when it’s finished.’

  They walked into the bowels of the building.

  ‘I actually want to talk to you about something that may have “fallen into your hands” lately, or offered to you but turned down. Something Vixens-related. It used to belong to a friend of mine and I want to get it back… I don’t know if you remember the item…’

  ‘I remember everything. I can name and tell you the location and owner of every prop currently in the hands of a celebrity, collector, museum or exhibition.’

  ‘You may have got it privately, from someone who approached you specifically…’

  ‘Let me just say first, if we’re talking about Samantha Carbury’s underwear here, then I got them fair and square, with a certificate of provenance signed by the previous owner. I’m very shocked and saddened that an identical pair disappeared from her dressing room during filming in Studio 8 in 1991, but my pair is not that pair, and my ownership of them is completely legitimate and above board.’

  ‘Don’t worry Graham. I don’t think you’d buy stolen knickers.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That would be tacky.’

  ‘I am very glad you think that, as they’re one of my most prized pieces. Come and have a look at them and other prized pieces, and prepare to be amazed.’ He waddled through wide, echo-strewn corridors and into more rooms. ‘I take it this is in relation to your investigation into Marcus Spicer’s death.’

  ‘Now why would I be investigating anyone’s death?’

  ‘A simple deduction, Mervyn, I have read Andrew Jamieson’s book, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Simon’s loss was a great shock, I was delighted that you deduced his murderer.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘But then, to be blunt, I’m also delighted that Simon Josh was murdered. I picked up a lot from his memorial auction. You don’t mind me being blunt, do you?’

  ‘You just do what comes naturally, Graham.’

  ‘We are very much partners in this enterprise. I’m very glad we are both able to help the police with their investigations.’

  ‘Both?’

  ‘Indeed. The police contacted me, and asked me what I knew about the characters involved in the incident.’

  ‘“Characters”… You mean us? Me, Samantha, Brian?’

  ‘Yes, that is what I said, the characters,’ retorted Graham, stroking his beard. ‘I was pleased to say I was very helpful.’ He showed Mervyn his lapel. ‘I had this made, nice isn’t it?’

  Mervyn looked. Fastened to Graham’s jacket was a badge with ‘Police Adviser’ printed on it. Mervyn’s face suddenly grew hot. He’d made a connection. ‘Did you tell the police about my relationship with Cheryl Spicer?’

  ‘Of course I did. I told them everything I had in my files, the information I gave them on Samantha Carbury alone should keep them busy for weeks.’

  Mervyn considered acting outraged and shouting at Graham, but just sighed and stayed silent. Explaining tact and discretion to Graham would be like the captain of the Titanic explaining shipping routes to the iceberg. As they approached a stairwell, Graham produced a plastic badge on a clip and gave it to Mervyn. ‘You’ll need to wear this.’

  ‘Graham, I am not pretending that I’m in a science fiction convention. Much as it might give you a thrill. Sorry.’

  ‘The badge stops you tripping my motion sensors. They’re situated on all corridors adjacent to my museum of memorabilia. I have them sewn into every garment I own.’

  Mervyn dutifully pinned on a badge, and they entered a huge wood-panelled library. Graham pulled a switch, and the lights plunged them into a deep blue, like they were suddenly at the bottom of a swimming pool.

  ‘We have to switch to ultraviolet light. Normal electric light will fade everything.’

  There were about a dozen glass cabinets glowing, illuminated by blue spotlights. The cabinets were beautiful; the contents were ugly. Shabby lumps of polystyrene. Warped bits of molten plastic. A crudely painted crash helmet with a shower hose attached to the back.

  ‘You’ll remember that,’ said Graham as he passed it. ‘That’s the space helmet from “Day of the Styrax”. The one Medula sabotaged. That…is television history. I got that from Simon’s estate. He said I’d only get it from him if I prised it from his cold dead hands. And he was right.’

  Mervyn was treated to an impromptu tour of tat. By the end of it he knew the history of two hairdryers, a kid’s torch glued to a TV remote control and a shrivelled condom sprayed green.

  ‘That was the larval stage of the Qu’arzal Wasp, believe it or not. It looks a bit different now. With some of my exhibits, it helps if you willingly suspend yo
ur disbelief.’

  ‘I’m just about suspending my disbelief. Just don’t tell me how much you paid for it.’ He examined one of the hairdryers. ‘Do you know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say these “disappeared” from the set shortly after we wrapped. I always suspected Bernard Viner of taking them but we never found out—’

  Graham jumped like a scalded cat. ‘That’s vicious slander.’

  ‘Graham, I’m not saying…’

  ‘If someone comes to me with merchandise and proof of provenance, then I don’t ask questions. I always assume good faith.’

  ‘You said. I’m sorry I mentioned it.’

  ‘You will be. I attain lawyers like I collect merchandise. I have 23, and they’re all very valuable, and very collectable.’ Graham sat in a huge leather chair, and tapped his desk absently with stubby fingers. ‘So, what is this piece you’re so keen to track down?’

  ‘Someone called “Spike” or “SpikeL” might have contacted you. You were recommended to him by a guy called “Ed69”. God, I’m sounding like a footnote in Lord of the Rings. Anyway, it’s a small statuette of the Virgin Mary from “The Burning Time”.’

  At the mention of the statue, Graham’s piggy little eyes went cold. ‘I don’t know anything about any statuette.’

  ‘But you just said you knew everything about every prop. Where they were, who owned them…’

  ‘Let me rephrase that, I know nothing of the whereabouts of any prop that used to be owned by Marcus Spicer.’

  ‘But I haven’t told you who owned it yet.’

  Graham stopped, blinking. He’d been caught out.

  ‘Another simple deduction. The statuette was from “The Burning Time”. You knew Marcus Spicer and you’re investigating his death. It had to be the one which belonged to him.’

  ‘Of course. How obvious.’

  ‘It takes a lot to get past me.’

  ‘I can believe it.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  The hooded man pulled up some dustbins and clambered over the wall around Graham’s house. It wasn’t hard to circumvent the security cameras; they were stubbornly fixed on the side nearest the conservatory, daring any fortune hunters to break into the museum.