by steve higgs
‘Oh.’ They said more or less together. They looked at each other for a second or so and I wondered if they just needed to think about it or if the question had thrown them because this was all made up and rehearsed poorly. It would not be my first wasted call.
My concern evaporated when they said simultaneously, ‘Like a book.’
‘Okay. Please continue.’
‘Then we heard an awful wailing from downstairs and yelling and more noises like things being thrown around and a noise like you get when you drag furniture across the floor.’ Winston paused to have a slurp of tea. His hand was shaking a little and he used the other to steady his mug.
Hmm, I thought while he took a drink. Someone had done a number on this lovely older couple. They were genuinely scared.
Barbara was watching her husband. Her hands were clasped in her lap and her feet were crossed one over the other and tucked to one side under her chair. I wondered if this was a pose she had been taught as a girl - this is how a lady sits.
Winston put his mug down. His wire rimmed spectacles were a little steamed as he looked back up at me and I took a sip of my tea as he removed them.
I was about to prompt more story when he restarted anyway.
‘So, I went downstairs to see what it was.’
‘Well, we both went, Dear.’ reminded Barbara.
‘Yes, Dear you did come with me. But the noise stopped as soon as we got out of bed and when we got down stairs we found that our living room was wrecked. The furniture had been moved and the pictures were crooked.’
‘Two of my ornaments were broken.’ chipped in Barbara again. ‘One of them was the little crystal mouse my mother gave me. I can’t replace that. How am I supposed to replace that?’
I assumed it was a rhetorical question and pressed on. ‘Was there anything new in the room?’
They looked at me quizzically ‘Something new? Like what?’ asked Winston
I was wondering if the culprit has gone to the trouble of leaving ectoplasmic slime or something of that nature. I had encountered it on a previous case a couple of months ago, collected it and had paid a chemistry teacher at a nearby college to tell me what it was made from. The answer was:
1 teaspoon soluble fibre (e.g., Metamucil psyllium fibre)
8 ounces water
food colouring
glow paint or pigment
Not remotely paranormal and could be made in a few minutes from ingredients found on eBay.
‘I was just curious.’ I offered rather than giving them the full explanation. ‘Was there anything missing?’
‘That was what Winston said.’ replied Barbara. ‘Winston said we had to put the room straight and work out if anything was missing. I was going to call the police, but Winston checked the doors and windows and they were all still locked so Winston said it could not be a burglar.’
‘So, was there anything missing?’ I asked after no one spoke for a few seconds.
‘Oh. Err, no.’ finished Barbara ‘Not that we could see, and we even checked the level of the brandy in our decanter in case it was tearaway kids breaking in.’
‘So, we went back to bed,’ this from Winston ‘But we didn’t really sleep, and we got up around six o’clock.’
‘I checked the living room again in the morning in case we had imagined the whole thing, but my ornaments were still broken.’
‘We pretended like nothing had happened and we didn’t tell anyone because we didn’t know what to tell them.’
‘I almost called our son, but he would have sent for the men in the while coats. I think we both knew it was a ghost even then, but we didn’t talk about it.’
‘Then it happened again a few nights later and again the night after that and we moved out after the third time and went to stay with our Son in Brighton. When we told him we had a ghost he said we were being silly and that we must have imagined it all.’
‘We called the Police but they said they had no time to look into hauntings.’ Barbara said this with a tut. ‘We came home after a day and then it happened again the next night. Winston slept in the living room the night after that and the night after that but the only thing that happened was his back gave out from sleeping awkwardly.’ Barbara gave her husband a look that may have been annoyance that he did not catch their ghost or may have been sympathy. I found it hard to tell.
Winston fidgeted slightly before restarting his story ‘So then I went back to our room to sleep, that would have been on Saturday night and we had the worst attack yet that night.’
‘We couldn’t stay here after that, so we packed a few things and came here.’ added Barbara. ‘It’s my Auntie Margaret you know.’ she stated looking directly at me with a hushed voice like it was a big plot reveal.
‘It’s not auntie Margaret, love.’ said Winston
‘She always resented me getting the clock. It has to be her. Its ten years since she died.’
‘But it’s not ten years to the day is it, love? Margaret died in the July.’
‘What clock?’ I interrupted.
It turned out the clock in question was a family heirloom antique looking thing that sat on their mantel. A glass face that hinged open at one side so the movement could be wound by use of a key. It did not look like it was worth much to me but I acknowledged that I didn’t know much about clocks.
The clock had been passed down through several generations but had gone to Barbara’s mother Ophelia rather than to her older sister Aunt Margaret due to some long running dispute between Margaret and her mother. When the clock was passed down again to Barbara the Aunt had turned up demanding that the clock be turned over to her as it was rightfully her heirloom as eldest child.
Barbara had said no, and the rift continued. Quite why someone would think this might cause a haunting was beyond my comprehension. Clearly it made sense to Barbara though.
I convinced them to return to the house with me right there and then after promising them that I would stay at the house with them at all times.
They changed out of their house slippers and into shoes sort of bumping into each other politely in the confined space of the room and I excused myself to make some extra room.
Waiting for them in the car park I checked my emails and ate an apple from my bag. They shuffled out of the door before I had finished it, both of them getting into a new plate white Vauxhall Astra.
I signalled that I would follow them even though I knew where I was going and it was almost one straight road from the Travelodge to their house.
Four minutes later we were in their road. They pulled onto their drive and I parked in the street in front of their house. It was a 1930s-semidetached place with several period features around the door, windows and roof line. The front garden was well tended with mostly maintenance-free plants and overall it looked like a house that was loved. I noticed though that by contrast the house to which theirs was attached was overgrown with weeds, the windows were dirty and the paint was flaking off.
Inside, the house was pleasant in an older couple sort of way. The décor was dated but very neat and tidy. We went into the lounge straight away without exploring the rest of house. There were lace thingies on the corners of the felt covered sofa and armchairs and more lace under pot plants and the like. The real point to note though was that the room was trashed. If I was making a room up so that it looked burgled this is the look I would have gone for. Pot plants were dumped on the floor, the contents spilling out. Pictures were either skewwhiff on the walls or now sat on the floor with the frame cracked in several cases. Nothing was straight. On the mantelpiece, very prominently as if all the other ornaments were set up to draw one’s eye towards it was the clock. The face was open, and the hands were both bent outwards at a stark angle.
‘When did this happen?’
‘On the third night.’ replied Barbara. ‘On the first two nights, the clock was just moved about or turned a bit.’
‘Have either of you touched the hands of the clock since you found
it like this?’
They looked at each other again. Winston had his left arm around Barbara in a protective stance, perhaps as much for his comfort as hers. ‘I didn’t. Did you?’ he asked.
‘No, Dear. I didn’t even notice it at first. You had to point it out to me while I was cleaning up the dirt from the clematis.’
‘You are both sure?’
They looked at each other again and briefly discussed it but decided that they were indeed sure that neither one had touched the hands of the clock. The clock hands were delicate and made of brass, if a person were to adjust the time they would do so by moving the hands manually but to do so one would press lightly on the edge of the clock hand not grab hold, so the finger print I could clearly see on the reverse side of the big hand was left there by the culprit.
‘Good. My Dear Winston and Barbara there are finger prints on the hands and ghosts do not leave fingerprints so whoever is doing this it is not a ghost, phantasm or spirit from the netherworld.’ While I explained this to them I had my hands fishing around in my shoulder bag from which I produced a basic finger printing kit.
‘Oh.’ said Barbara sounding distinctly deflated. ‘So, who is it then?’
‘I intend to find out.’ I dusted the clock hands and then had them point out a few other items that had been moved so I could take more prints and then took their fingerprints to eliminate them. I had bought a basic fingerprinting kit online when I opened the business and it came with software that would take the scanned images and allow me to match finger prints to them. It did not connect with a criminal database or anything like that, but it had proved useful several times in the past.
I definitely had a third set of fingerprints. Thus I had formed a plan but needed to discuss costs with the couple before we went any further. I sat them down on the sofa to explain how I planned to solve their mystery and what I would need to charge them.
Investigating the Vampire Murders. Thursday September 23rd 1237hrs
Winston and Barbara were staying at their house for the rest of the day now that they were back there. I was to return in a few hours with equipment and would be staying the night at their house. Barbara still seemed quite convinced that it was her Aunt Margaret despite any evidence I had showed her. I just hoped the poltergeist would make an appearance tonight so that I could wrap this up quickly. I did not wish to charge them for multiple nights of me sat on their sofa waiting for the poltergeist to turn up.
Outside their house, I plipped the car open and got inside. It struck me then that I was hungry.
Hmm, what to eat?
I had planned to be healthy today and eat raw vegetables for lunch with fresh humus and perhaps a piece of fruit and a pint of water, but those supplies were sat in my office and that was not where I wanted to go right now. I headed for home instead, letting my stomach and my vanity wrestle over what to eat.
Home was barely two miles away, so I was still debating what was in my fridge and whether I could justify a cheeseburger as part of a nutritious diet if I put enough salad in it when I pulled up.
My house is tucked away in the corner of a village just outside Maidstone. The village is quiet and surrounded on all sides by green fields and open pasture. There is a pub and a village shop that sells groceries and alcohol and all manner of groceries. The village is quite typical of small villages anywhere in England. My house is a three-bedroom detached with a wrap-around garden. I don’t need three bedrooms of course but it means that the house itself is a good size and I never feel enclosed or compressed.
I parked on my drive next to the flower beds and nicely manicured lawn I had put in. On the other side of my door my two dogs Bull and Dozer barked a warning then fussed around my feet as I went into the house.
Bull came to live with me five years ago while I was still in the Army and is both my companion and my sounding board. His brother (same parentage, different litter) came along a year later when I decided Bull needed a companion. They are both fierce and protective, make a lot of noise to deter intruders and are solid muscle from the tip of their noses to the end of their tails. They are also miniature black and tan Dachshunds and weigh about as much as a roast chicken. Arguably not the manliest dogs but I did not care what anyone else thought.
I am not a big man, but carry a reasonable amount of muscle and have at times been ridiculed for having such small dogs. The chaps weigh less than seven kilos each but have character and attitude far beyond their size. I have had to point out to people that I do not need a big dog and also that stereotyping would say that small dogs are ladies dogs and thus that ladies like small dogs. If this case proves correct then ladies will be attracted to the small dogs and since I am attracted to ladies I fail to see where the downside is.
Anyway, I patted their heads and gave each a small treat from a jar in the kitchen. Their bottoms disappeared around the kitchen doorframe as they trotted off to the garden content with their efforts and left me to sort the mail. Nothing of interest. No bills, no postcards, just a few pointless pizza flyers and some opportunities to transfer my credit.
I settled on a fresh tuna salad for lunch, which killed my hunger but did little to satisfy my meat cravings. Dirty plate and mixing bowl went into the dishwasher and as the dogs reappeared I settled in front of my computer to research the recent vampire murders.
I used general search engines to find almost all of the information I wanted, but found excellent information on the paranormal web pages that would not appear anywhere else. The paranormal press services online were run by various oddballs who reported anything that might have a vaguely supernatural connection. A lot of it was conspiracy theory and crazy ideas, yet I found truth amongst the outlandish as well and I was learning to sift the content.
Forty-five minutes on Google and other sites had revealed all that I felt was going to be available online. The first murder had occurred fourteen days ago on the outskirts of Aylesford. The victim’s name was Brian Grazly, a single fifty-seven-year-old groundsman at Chilwell Castle. His body was found at night and still bleeding, so the murder must have been very recent. I really needed to get a look at the police report if I was to gain better information. The body had been found by Mrs Stephanie Dunne on her way home after closing down the staff kitchen at the castle. The report said that she generally took a shortcut past the onsite cottage where Mr Grazly lived as groundsman and had found him lying on the path. I wondered if she had screamed and drawn attention or screamed and drawn no attention at all and had then had to calm down and go looking for help. The second victim was Rita Hancock, sixty-eight. A retired school secretary at Aylesford primary school. Found by a Liam Goldhind while walking his dog, Simon at just before 0600hrs in the morning. Leaves behind two children and seven grandchildren. Lived in Allington and was last seen at a friend’s house following a night playing canasta with a small group of other old ladies. Her body had been left in bushes to the side of the road. The cause of death was massive loss of blood from trauma to the throat i.e. jugular punctured. This one came two days after the first so more than a week between second and third victims. The third Victim was killed last night making it three linked deaths in a short period. A serial killer in Maidstone.
The vampire case presented a chance to make headline news. If I could get in and solve it first of course. The case was right on my doorstep. The serendipity of its geography too fortuitous to ignore. I was not used to tackling murderers though, the worst my line of work had thrown at me so far were some unsavoury thieves and a few persons happy to commit grievous bodily harm on either random persons or indeed their own supposed loved ones. Each case somehow fell under the banner of mysterious or supernatural goings-on and had either never been reported to the police or had been dismissed by them upon initial investigation because it was ‘Very clear Mr Harding that the Loch Ness Monster is not living in your pond’.
I was also curious about the Bluebell Hill Big Foot but not curious enough to do anything about it until someone of
fered me money or some other reason why I should.
Adding up what I knew about the vampire case didn’t really give me anything.
Tea!
Tea always helps so I left the computer to put the kettle on. Bull followed me just in case it was treat time again. I picked him up for a fuss and was rewarded with a lick to the nose. The lick was probably designed to elicit a treat rather than deliver a specific message. I hugged him and popped him back on the floor. No good making him fat with tit bits so he could wait until 1700hrs when his evening meal would arrive. The problem with Bull was that he was above average intelligence. I don’t mean above average for a dog, but above average for a human. Now you may scoff but I have watched this little dog working things out before. Not blessed with opposable thumbs he still does his best to defeat me when I try to keep him out of a room that he wants to be in or put food where he cannot conceivably reach. Also, I know some pretty thick people and he seems quite a bit brighter than them. Dozer however, was thicker than a whale omelette and had an appearance to match. Where his brother has defined features and a quizzical brow that seemed to be considering everything and possibly plotting world domination, Dozer had slightly fat chops and over size front paws that made him look a bit special. If I drew a cartoon of him the thought bubble would be empty.
Tea made I drifted back to the iMac and started again. The key to solving most crimes was finding some kind of link or motivation. For the vampire case this theory worked unless the killer was a total nut bag and was killing at random, which seemed entirely plausible. I researched vampires and Maidstone in the same search bar and got hits for groups that met up for role playing and such like and a couple of groups that met up specifically to discuss vampire TV shows. I expanded it to vampires+kent but the results here were not much different. I was not even sure what I was actually looking for. I tilted the computer chair backwards and closed my eyes to consider the subject…
…and woke up over an hour later. I checked my watch to find it was1530hrs and time to get on with doing something constructive.