by Stan Mason
‘You flew there. On which airline?’
‘Not on an airplane! I got there in my dream! I’m only a mortal. I’m not permitted to enter but my soul did.’
The policeman raised his eyes to the ceiling as if seeking for guidance from above. ‘Did you see where this Goddess went after killing the man who tried to knife you?’
‘She went back to the celestial kingdom of course!’ He was beginning to find the conversation becoming extremely tiresome. They clearly didn’t believe a word of what he told them. It was all so pointless!
‘So you’re telling me this woman doesn’t exist.’
‘Of course she exists but she doesn’t walk the streets like any normal human-being. She’s up there somewhere in the celestial kingdom with all the other Gods and Goddesses.’
Parradine gritted his teeth in anger. He was getting absolutely nowhere with this investigation. The man was a complete nut but he had to pursue his enquiries in the hope of finding some cogent leads. ‘Let’s move on to the other death. A man by the name of Richard Toomey. What do you know about that?’
The messenger shook his head slowly. ‘Nothing really. Never heard of him.’
‘He was found burned to death in his car a short distance from your home.’
‘Ah, yes... the man who had a rifle in his hands. He tried to shoot me. He fired twice by my protector shielded me so that I wasn’t harmed. Yes... that’s right. She did the same thing to him. Burned him to death.’
‘You saw her do it?’
‘Yes... as I said, the man tried to shoot me.’
‘Do you know where we might find this woman... this Goddess?’
‘You’re not listening to me. I told you... in the celestial kingdom.’ He was becoming frustrated at the policeman’s failure to believe him.
‘But you did order her to kill Trevor-Edwards and said that he was an enemy of the Gods, didn’t you?’
Warrior shrugged his shoulders, ignoring the question. ‘What did the bishop think of it all. I bet it blew their minds!’
‘We haven’t interviewed them yet. We’ll do so tomorrow morning.’ Parradine hesitated for a moment to collect his thoughts. ‘Do you know what I think, Mr. Warrior?
‘Not particularly,’ cut in the messenger sharply.
‘I think that this was the third of your appearances on television. Probably your last one. And this time you decided to go out with a bang. You arranged for this woman to appear on the set, maybe through a trap-door, and gave her a blow-torch to kill the presenter in front of millions of people. In that way, you could recruit more supporters to your cause!’
‘That’s a load of rubbish!’ countered Warrior quickly. ‘What kind of trick makes a person appear and reappear. You tell me that. There were not curtains... no apparatus... she simply came and went. And what kind of a blow-torch would be enough to set a man on fire so quickly... enough to kill him? You’re dealing with paranormal powers as yet unknown to the world. You’ve seen it on the video!’
‘In the absence of any other evidence, I think my theory of what happened is the correct one. You know a lot more than you’re telling us, Mr. Warrior.’
‘Ridiculous!’ muttered the messenger adamantly. ‘I told you, you’re dealing with extraordinary powers outside the natural parameters of this planet. Your mind is too closed to accept it!’
Parradine looked towards Briggs who shrugged his shoulders aimlessly. They were completely confused by the messenger’s answers to their questions .and they weren‘t sure how to write up their report let alone complete it. Certainly they were no nearer to finding the murderer of the three people burned to death except to understand that it was carried out by a Goddess of the celestial kingdom. Parradine could visualise exactly what his superior would say if he told him a story of this ilk. He would probably be told to take leave for losing his mind through overwork. Yet the facts were there before them. They knew it was a woman who wore a silver dress and a diamond tiara. She had never been seen in the vicinity and didn’t seem to have any identity. Warrior had insisted that she was a Goddess but who could accept a comment of that kind in a murder mystery? He had never come across anything quite like it in the whole of his career. It baffled him. How could anyone believe that a Goddess appeared with the power to burn people to death? No, Warrior was a mystic who was truly out of his mind. There was a fine line between those who were extremely clever and the criminally insane. Here was a man claiming to have seen visions of the Gods and had travelled to the celestial kingdom... wherever that was located! He told them that he had made love to the Goddess of Love... which was even more implausible! And what about the death of his alleged assassin in the church. He hadn’t contacted the police after the incident because he said that the man was dead and nothing could be done for him. It was all so incredible. Where was this woman with the lethal touch? She was out there on the loose able to kill at whim. If he didn’t find her soon, she would more than likely kill a few more people to become a high-grade serial killer. He turned to the messenger for one final foray.
‘You’ve been in this sort of trouble before, haven’t you, Mr. Warrior?
The messenger stared at him with a puzzled expression on his face. ‘How come?’
‘I pulled a file on you off the computer. Twelve years ago you were arrested on two charges... one of arson and one of murder.’
‘I was cleared of those charges!’ retorted Warrior angrily. They caught the man who did it. He’s serving a life sentence.’
‘It seems odd that the word ‘arson’ keeps cropping up when you’re around,’ pressed the policeman. ‘Three bodies... all burned to death. Have you devised some sort of weapon that makes people catch fire?’
‘Don’t be absurd!’
‘Well I’m not satisfied with your answers! Not at all. I don’t believe for one moment that the woman involved in those deaths is a Goddess. I think she’s a real persona and you’re hiding her identity. I believe you know how she appears and disappears. I’d like you to come down to the police station for further questioning!’
‘But I told you all I know,’ bleated the messenger tiredly. ‘I’ve explained everything to you!’
‘Not to my satisfaction, I’m afraid.’ Parradine glanced at his Detective Sergeant and they both stood up.
‘You’ll have to arrest me if you want to take me to the police station!’ declared Warrior adamantly.
‘Very well, Mr. Warrior. I arrest you as an accessory after the fact of the death of an unknown person at St. Michaels’ church found on the seventeenth of February earlier this year and also before the fact at a television network this evening. Anything you say will be taken down and used in evidence against you. Now will you accompany us to the police station?’
‘You’re wasting your time!’ insisted Warrior. ‘I’ve told you everything I know!’
‘We’ll see about that!’ returned the police officer curtly.
The messenger shrugged his shoulders before raising himself up from the armchair. ‘Aren’t you going to put handcuffs on me?’
Parradine smiled easily. ‘You’ve been watching too many American films,’ he replied. ‘You’re a television celebrity. I’m sure that if you escaped someone would identify you.’
They left and climbed into the police car. Warrior realised that he was in for a rough time and would certainly have to sleep in a prison cell that night. He would be interviewed constantly with different teams of police, none of whom would be able to make any sense of anything he told them.
When he arrived at the police station, he was taken directly to an interview room. They didn’t want to waste time in coming up with the solution for the death of Trevor-Edwards. He was an obvious suspect for having given the order for the presenter to be killed, even though they could see that Xantha Vesta committed the crime. They were going to ask h
im the same questions over and over again. He reckoned that he was in a very tough spot that would last most of the night!
***
It was just after midnight. Mark Sutter, the reporter for The Bulletin newspaper, had just dropped off to sleep. It was a very short slumber, however, because he was rudely awakened by the constant ringing of the telephone. With a wry expression on his face as he picked up the receiver to answer the call, instantly recognising the voice of the caller. It was one of his informants who told him of incidents at the police station.
‘Have I got a scoop for you, Mark,’ said the caller eagerly. ‘Guess what! They’ve arrested that fella Warrior as an accessory to two murders. I think you ought to get down there to find out more.’
Sutter almost fell out of bed reaching for his pen and notepad. News of this kind was like a gift from Heaven. ‘Gimme more details,’ he asked excitedly.. There were two phrases which the reporter loved to use. The first was ‘Follow that car!’... the second was ‘Hold the front page!’ It was time for him to use the second one. Without delay, he contacted the newspaper printing office. ‘Hold the front page!’ he told the man at the other end of the line. ‘I’ve got a real blockbuster! Keep the front page clear. I’ll contact you later.’
At last he could sweep away all the mundane boring stories and replace them with something sensational. This time he had a real scoop! He dressed quickly and drove at full speed to his office at the newspaper, turned on his computer, and started writing the story even though he had only the bare bones of what had occurred. The distribution of the newspaper would take place in six hours time. He had to write a story covering half the front page in a very short period of time. It was necessary to be concise but, at the same time, he had to write a full article relating to all the facts concerning the incident at the television studio and the arrest of the messenger. There was tremendous mileage in the story and it could run for some considerable time. He was the reporter who was at the head of the scoop. It belonged to him... and only him!
The Bulletin was distributed at six forty-five that morning. It was hot news straight off the press. Many people had watched the television programme and it was fair to say that they were rather confused at the end of it. The had seen the Goddess of Love appear and believed it was a gimmick and then the burning of the presenter which seemed to be something special put on by the network. Was it a stunt? Was it something special to gain their attention? ‘Hot Shot’ was that kind of sensational programme... extroversion... showy... full of surprises! The events were yet another ploy to shock them. They really had no idea that Trevor-Edwards was dead. However, the newspaper article covered the whole story from start to finish. No one who read it would end up confused any more. But who was the woman who appeared,... the one who actually killed the presenter? And how did she do it? There was no apparatus on the set. She simply pointed a finger at the man and he was cremated. It didn’t seem real! It was her presence and disappearance that bemused Sutter. She was a mystery woman who had murdered a man in cold blood in front of millions of viewers. He racked his brains to try to find a solution as to how it was possible. All the police had was Warrior, a man of religious views claiming that the murderess was a Goddess who lived in the celestial kingdom. They were able to connect all three murders to the same operandi... each person having been incinerated within seconds but no one could determine the means by which it had been done. It was a complete mystery but an idea situation for a newspaper.
The police continued to grill Warrior throughout the earlier part of the morning before committing him into a dark grey cell. It stank and was extremely unpleasant, offering him only a bed and a bucket which had been placed in a corner. He lay back on the paper-thin mattress allowing the vents of the day to pass through his mind. Things hadn’t worked out the way he had anticipated. He didn’t believe that he would end up sleeping in a prison cell. At seven o’clock in the morning, a constable woke him, pushing a tray of food and a mug of tea inside the cell. Fifteen minutes later, the cell door opened and Detective Sergeant Briggs beckoned to him. He led the messenger to the same interview room and Warrior sat down to face Parradine and Briggs once more.
‘I’d like to go back over your past history,’ began the senior policeman intending to break the resolve of the prisoner in the hope that he might come forward with some reasonable explanations. ‘Twelve years ago you were charged with arson and having killed your parents.’
‘We’ve already been over that! The man who did it in serving time in jail! Can’t we end it there. I don’t want to talk about it!’
‘Arson’s a serious crime,’ continued Parradine. ‘They charged the man who killed your parents but they didn’t pursue the charge of arson. You burned down the house when you discovered that your parents were dead, didn’t you? You couldn’t help yourself, could you?’
‘Load of crap!’ snapped Warrior carelessly. ‘Either get me a solicitor or let me go!’
The senior officer seemed put out by the messenger’s comment. Although he intended to run the interview according to the book, the last thing he wanted was a solicitor to preventing him to continue as he wished. The prisoner was entitled to legal support but it would certainly hamper the investigation.
‘All right,’ he went on unperturbed, ‘Let’s go back over the story of what happened at St. Michael’s church. Who asked you to put up a banner?’
‘It was something I decided to do.’
‘Who else was with you at the time?’
‘Myself and two henchmen. Maidley and Guildenstern.’
‘Guildenster!’ repeated Briggs slowly. ‘Just like the character in one of Shakespeare’s plays?
Parradine and Warrior allowed the question to become rhetoric failing to answer.
‘So you actually broke into the church,’ ventured the senior officer. You were trespassing and you were confronted by a man holding a knife. He might have been a voluntary caretaker looking after the church. If he was, he might have been holding the knife to protect himself form burglars who had broken in to the church. To wit, you and your henchmen. There were three of you and he had to protect himself. How did you set him on fire?
Warrior smile tiredly. ‘None of this is real, is it?’ he muttered. ‘What you’re saying is pure speculation. The man was no more a caretaker than I was. Although three of us were there, I was in the church alone. He wielded a knife in his hand and was about to kill me. It was only Xantha Vesta who saved me. She torched him.’
‘Torched him? How did she do that?’
’She simply raised her arm, pointed her finger, and a beam of light came from it. He burst into flame, was incinerated in seconds, and fell dead on the altar.’
‘And what happened to this Xantha Vesta after that?’
‘She disappeared. Don’t ask me how but she did.’
‘What you’re saying is that there are no witnesses to this incident. What were your henchmen doing?’
‘They were putting the ladder back on the roof-rack of the van. They weren’t in the church at the time.’
Parradine scratched his head solemnly. ‘We don’t seem to be getting anywhere do we, Mr. Warrior?’ he said menacingly.
‘That’s because I’m telling the truth!’ stated the messenger loudly. ‘I didn’t sleep a wink in your damned cold cell last night. You didn’t need to keep me here. I wouldn’t have done a runner!’
The two policemen continued to grill the prisoner for another two hours going over the same ground again and again. Suddenly, there was a loud commotion outside the police station and Briggs left the room to find out what was happening. When he returned, he had a bemused expression on his face. He called Parradine to the door and whispered something in his ear. The senior police officer then returned to his seat to face the prisoner once more.
‘It would seem that a group of people have gathered outside to su
pport your. They’re demanding your release.’
There came the sound of a window being smashed and the policeman stared at him with some alarm.
‘I think you’re in trouble,’ expressed Warrior calmly. ‘Sounds like a number of people are out there and they’re going to insist that you let me go.. But there’s an easy way out of this. You can release me under my own cognizance until your investigation progresses further. I’m not going to run... I’m too well-known for that. In any case, I’m not going to leave my home.’
The sound of another window caving in could be heard. Then the crowd outside began to chant building up steam as though they meant to storm the police station.
Parradine began to buckle, realising the pointlessness of continuing the interrogation and he decided to concede. ‘Okay,’ he said hesitantly. ‘You can go but make sure we always know where you are. Do you have a passport?’
‘The messenger shook his head and they rose from their seats before escorting Warrior to the exit. He was astonished to find a large number of people parading outside demanding his release. Many of them had read the morning newspaper and had come along to the police station in a token of support. Placards with all kinds of messages were being carried aloft and Warrior stood on the steps outside the building raising his hands to establish silence.
‘My friends!’ he called out at the top of his voice, ‘I thank you for your support. You’ve obviously heeded my message to pray to the Gods and Goddesses in the celestial kingdom and they give you their protection. I am innocent of any crime. My protector, the Goddess of Love killed Mr. Trevor-Edwards, the television presenter, to prove to the world that the deities exist in the celestial kingdom. Keep on praying and you’ll be well rewarded in life. I thank you!’
A great cheer went up from the crowd who escorted the messenger all the way to his home, chanting slogans abut the Gods. Warrior was amazed at the number of people who had come to support him. It proved how successful he had become... thanks to the efforts of Mark Sutter and Brendan Moses. He could only assume that the growth of his support throughout the country was equally as strong. Indeed, the Western world was now at his feet!