Boo!

by David Haynes

  “The mums and dads, they all agreed of course. But had they looked close enough at the clown on the poster, they would have seen something different to the children. Underneath the cheerful mask, the clown sneered and whispered with rancid breath into their ears, ‘Boo!’

  “Sparkles was...”

  “Boring, boring, boring! Yawn, yawn, yawn! Is that the best you can do?” Sparkles interrupted.

  Maldon was shocked. “What? It’s... it’s...”

  “Unoriginal. That’s what it is. Now what say we make our own story? It’ll be better than this codswallop and totally original.”

  “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  “Nonsense,” Sparkles replied. “I’ll help you.”

  “And what will it be about?” Maldon asked.

  “Me, of course! What else?”

  Maldon nodded. It was the obvious choice, “We’ll need a title too.”

  “That we will, that we will. Hmm, Sparkles the Second?”

  “Boo!” Maldon said.

  “Perfect!” Sparkles squealed.

  Maldon carried Sparkles downstairs and sat at the kitchen table. He put him down very carefully and started the computer. It was old and slow and took an age to start up, but it was fine for looking at porn. When it finally started, the wallpaper was a never-ending carousel of all the front covers for Clownz. His favourite had always been the edition he’d read in prison. It was the first edition.

  “You know, Maldon, it’s awfully dark in here, can we put a light on? I can’t see properly.”

  “The light is on,” Maldon replied.

  “Oh! Hmm, would you be willing to hold me up a touch? Just a smidgen closer to the light? I’ll be able to help you more if I can see. Turn me so I can see the screen.”

  Maldon lifted him.

  “Higher,” Sparkles whispered.

  Maldon lifted him until he was in front of his face.

  “That’s better. Now a teensy-weensy bit closer to you.”

  Maldon did as he was asked.

  “Closer,” he whispered.

  “I can’t get any closer.” Maldon was starting to feel irritated by the demands. Sparkles was almost touching his own face.

  “Oh yes you can!”

  And then Sparkles was on his face. Clinging to it like a lump of raw meat. Only Sparkles wasn’t cold and he didn’t feel wet or uncomfortable. He felt snug and... and, well... a perfect fit.

  “There, that’s much better. I can see properly now. Can you hear my music? Just listen to it, is it not just the most beautiful music in the whole world!”

  “It’s called Entry of the Gladiators,” Maldon stated.

  “Indeed it is, Maldon. Indeed it is. Now, let us begin our masterpiece!”

  *

  Jane Brady was tired. Dog tired. She’d been awake for twenty hours straight and every time she looked at the computer screen, an electric shock passed through her eyeballs and into her brain. She wasn’t going to be useful for much longer.

  The search team had found eleven computers at Newman’s house. Eleven computers. Then there were a further three in bits in the garage and four external hard drives. The man could have been a computer geek. He could even have been building them as a sideline to his ‘Bingo The Clown’ kids’ party business. But something told her this wasn’t the case. Twenty-four years of being a police officer told her there was something nasty about it.

  “What’s on the report, Sarge?” DC Stu Kelly was the only other officer in the incident room. He’d been lazy when he mentored her ten years ago. Jane had gone up a rank since then but Kelly had remained a DC. He only had a couple of years left to go before he got his pension and he wasn’t pulling up any trees, that was for sure.

  She stared at him for a moment. “Shouldn’t you be at home?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been home and come back. It’s you who needs to go home, Jane.”

  She looked away. Just like Kelly to look after himself. There were ten other officers including herself who hadn’t been home, yet somehow Kelly had found the time to slope off for a few hours. She picked up the phone and started ringing around the team. They were all out on enquiries but the urgent ones had all been completed now. There was nothing more to be done tonight and she needed them to be fit for another long day tomorrow.

  “Does that mean I can get an early one too?” Kelly asked.

  Jane fixed him with a stare again and he smirked. “Can’t blame me for trying.” He put his head back down and shuffled some paperwork.

  She would go soon too, get four or five hours kip and then be back for morning briefing. First she had to look at the report, though. She’d been putting it off for the last twenty minutes. She wasn’t sure if her eyes or her brain could stomach what she thought was coming next.

  The High-Tech Crime Unit had fast-tracked the computers but it would take days, possibly weeks, for them to work through Newman’s entire stash. Nevertheless a preliminary report had been completed on the first computer, the one in his bedroom. The one with clown stickers all down the side of the monitor. The mouse mat was a picture of him and beneath his picture was the caption, ‘Bingo The Clown – Tickling Ribs since 1982!’

  “I hate clowns,” she whispered and clicked on the email with the HTCU report attached.

  There were thirty pages in all and twenty-five of them detailed the most horrific filth imaginable. The other pages were filled with the legal powers the author had used to examine the computer. Over two hundred category-five images, the worst possible, and thousands of others on this computer alone.

  After the first page, she didn’t need to see any more. Not tonight anyway.

  “Vigilante?” Kelly was peering over her shoulder.

  “Have you been at the raw garlic again, Stu?” She could see his big, red drinker’s nose out of the corner of her eye. It was revolting.

  He moved back. “Sorry, spag bol.”

  “Glad you’ve had time to eat something. Possibility, there’s some kid’s party photos in there. Someone’s going to have to go through all these and try to see if we’ve got any identifiable victims.” She noticed Kelly was already walking away, trying to distance himself from any work that might be coming his way. He was safe though, she wouldn’t want him within a thousand miles of anything requiring a sensitive hand.

  The phone rang and she snatched at it. “DS Brady, incident room.”

  She waited for the operator in the call centre to finish completely before replying. She was making decisions while taking in the information.

  “Okay, we schedule it for...” She checked her watch. “Four hours time. That’s 7am when the child abuse DS comes on duty. At the same time I want it scheduling for DI White and DCI Hargreaves, I’ll brief them both. Can you type something on the incident please? I’ll dictate it.” She waited a moment and then continued.

  “I have reviewed the information available at this time. These are allegations of historical abuse where the victim is now an adult. There are no forensic matters to consider at this time. As a result I request this incident be scheduled for the Child Abuse Investigation Unit and Divisional CID in the morning. I will be on duty to brief DI White. Please link to Operation Mint. DS Brady.”

  She ended the call and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. It sent a spike of pain through her skull.

  “It doesn’t look like we’ll need to look very far for his victims,” she said to herself.

  “Oh?” Kelly was back at his desk.

  “Nope, it looks like they’re coming to us. I need to go and grab a couple of hours but I’m only going down to the First Aid Room. Just field the phones please, Stu.”

  Jane walked down the corridor. Two victims had phoned in, reporting abuse at Newman’s hands. It was likely that the two would be multiplied many times over in the next few days, judging by what was on his computer. That investigation would be taken on by either Child Abuse or CID, probably both, but she wanted to keep at least some involvement in
it. There were going to be links.

  She’d seen some things in the last twenty-four years that made her toes curl, but never before had she seen someone with their face cut off like that. If it was one of his victims and they wanted to cut something off, why not his cock? That was the obvious place to start.

  She climbed onto the treatment table and folded her jacket under her head. She might get a couple of hours if she was lucky. She set an alarm for three hours time and closed her eyes. She had a job for Kelly tomorrow. Good old ‘Bingo’ had five copies of the same paperback book in his wardrobe with a horrible clown face on the cover. All of them signed to him personally. The author needed speaking to.

  She drifted into sleep and saw clowns in her dreams, riding bicycles that were several sizes too small. Even that looked creepy now.

  *

  Jane was back in the office before anyone else. Except for Stu Kelly who was fast asleep with his shoes on his desk and his mouth wide open.

  “Morning, Stu!” she shouted across the room.

  He opened his eyes and looked about the office, trying to remember where he was.

  “Must’ve drifted off for a minute.” He lowered his feet and stood up. “Tea?”

  “Coffee, please. Strong coffee.” She sat down at her desk and logged in. Kelly looked like he’d been asleep for more than just a minute or two. He had probably been asleep for the same amount of time as her. That was on top of the two or three hours he’d managed to sneak in yesterday.

  She loaded her emails and stared at the screen. There were six missed calls, the last one only two minutes ago.

  “Did anyone phone for me while I was gone?”

  He turned and shook his head. “Not that I heard.” He quickly turned back to the kettle.

  “Says here I missed six calls.”

  Kelly just ignored the comment and stirred the cups. He was good at ignoring things.

  Jane scrolled down the list. They were all from the call centre and all were linked to the historical abuse call she had taken earlier this morning.

  “Looks like everyone’s got up this morning and decided to phone us. We’ve got calls from all over the county.”

  Kelly put a cup of instant coffee down on the desk. “I was hoping to get away early tonight. I’ve been on since...”

  She didn’t let him finish. “This one’s for you.” She passed him a sheet of paper. On it was an ‘action’ for him to go and talk to Ben Night, author of, amongst other books, Clownz. He needed to find out why Harvey Newman had so many copies of his book, all of them signed.

  Kelly took it from her and stomped across the office. It might only take him a couple of hours and she might let him go home then anyway. It depended on how much sulking he did.

  “Morning, Jane.” DI White walked in, followed by the DCI. They both nodded at Kelly and walked straight into White’s office.

  “Talk to me when you get back, Stu. I’m going to brief the boss.” She walked toward the DI’s office.

  Kelly didn’t look up. It looked like he was trying to smash his keyboard to bits.

  4

  Ben’s throat had been on fire since spending the night with Fleur. It felt like someone had carved it up with a razor blade and then rubbed salt deep down into the cuts. Every swallow was like torture. Not only had she photographed his arse and splashed it across social media but she had given him a nasty throat infection. He shuddered to think what other infections she might have given him.

  He stood in front of the bathroom mirror and opened his mouth. The culprits were clearly visible – little white blisters all over his throat.

  “Bitch.” He put his head into the sink and splashed cold water on his face. He felt like he had a fever too. That had come on in the night when he had woken up in a pool of sweat from some pretty vivid dreams. His head felt like someone had put it in a vice and was slowly tightening the screw.

  He stood up, gripping the edge of the sink to stop himself falling back. It was of no comfort to see that he looked as bad as he felt. What he needed was to spend the day in bed. Possibly the next two days. Even if he had enough material to write something, there was no way he could get anything coherent down, not today.

  He shuffled out of the en-suite in his slippers and nothing else, and fell face-first onto the bed. It smelled of sweat but he didn’t care. And if someone else wanted to come and photograph his bare backside, they were welcome to. He should probably contact that bitch and tell her what he thought of her.

  He started to drift off but was disturbed by a knock on the front door.

  “Piss off,” he mumbled into the sheets.

  The knocking came again, followed by the doorbell. It was a terrible tune, something to do with gladiators. Joanne, his agent, had sent it as a joke when Clownz first hit the semi-big-time. It was just irritating and seemed to go on forever. Why hadn’t he dismantled it by now? Probably because nobody ever used it. Nobody ever came to the house.

  He groaned and ignored it. Whoever it was would get the message soon enough. The knocking started again, followed by the doorbell.

  “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” he shouted, wincing at the pain in his throat. He stumbled off the bed and walked to the window, forgetting he was naked.

  There was a man down below. If his car hadn’t been so crappy, Ben might have thought he was there to sell something. The man stepped back and looked up. He lifted a hand in greeting.

  Ben lifted his own hand and was about to give him the finger when the man held up a badge. A policeman’s badge.

  “Two minutes,” he mouthed through the window and the officer gave the thumbs-up in reply. Was giving a police officer the finger an offence? He looked down at his exposed genitals. Flashing one most certainly was.

  What could they want with him? He’d driven back from the signing in a temper and had probably been speeding. No, not probably, definitely. Did they make house calls for speeding tickets?

  “Nearly gave him an eyeful there, Stan,” he croaked. The dog eyed him from the foot of the bed. Stan was a retired greyhound and he hated his routine being disturbed. His routine mainly consisted of sleeping, and sometimes even eating seemed a chore.

  Ben dressed quickly, went downstairs and opened the front door. A cold wind blew in and he wished he’d put a sweatshirt on, not just a t-shirt.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr Night?” the man asked.

  “That’s right. What can I do for you?” Stan had managed to drag himself out of bed and was leaning against him with his teeth chattering in his usual excited fashion.

  The officer held his badge and warrant card out for Ben to examine. “DC Kelly. Can I have a word, please?”

  Ben stepped to the side. “Of course, come in.”

  Kelly smiled, picked up a briefcase and walked past him. He smelled of garlic and his shirt was stretched too tightly across his gut. The buttons looked like they might pop at any time. Stan wagged his tail and sniffed Kelly as he walked past but Kelly didn’t acknowledge the dog in any way. When Stan saw this was not someone to get excited about, he slunk back upstairs for a lie down.

  “Which way?” Kelly asked and pointed left and right.

  Ben stepped around him and led him into the lounge. “Can I get you a drink, DC Kelly?” He suddenly felt very nervous.

  “A coffee would be good. Milk and one sugar please.”

  “Give me a couple of minutes, I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t go running out of the back door, will you!” Kelly laughed at his own joke.

  Ben walked out of the lounge, across the hall into the kitchen-diner. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind until now. Maybe it should have. He laughed but it sounded forced.

  A few minutes later he came back into the room with two mugs. His was filled with hot lemon drink, which he hoped contained enough painkiller to stun his throat into a temporary submission.

  Kelly was sitting on the sofa with his briefcase next to him. The sofa looked directly at the
widescreen television on the wall. The only time Ben used the room was when he sprawled across the sofa to watch sports. Usually with a four-pack and a bowl of cheesy nachos.

  He passed Kelly his coffee and sat in the armchair. “What is it you want to speak to me about?”

  He nodded at Ben’s drink. “Under the weather?”

  “What? Yes, a bit of a sore throat.”

  “Too much kissing eh?” Kelly winked.

  “Something like that. So...” He was getting impatient. He didn’t get many social calls but an overweight copper with bad breath wouldn’t be a first on his list of invites anyway.

  “How do you know Harvey Newman?”

  “Who?” Ben answered. He felt relieved. He had no idea who Harvey Newman was.

  “Harvey Newman. The man who was murdered two days ago.”

  Ben frowned. He was still drawing a blank.

  “Bingo. Does that ring a bell?” Kelly’s voice had a trace of sarcasm in it.

  Was he being a bit slow because of his temperature? All he could think of was Sparkles in Clownz, but it was ridiculous to be thinking about a fictional character when a police officer was asking him questions.

  Kelly sighed, which irritated him, and then it came to him. He’d seen the reporter outside the address, and in the background they had been loading a van full of computers. Hadn’t there been a red nose bouncing down the drive too, leaving blood spots on the floor? No, that was just his imagination.

  “The guy who got his face cut off?” he asked. “Never met him.” Why did they want to know that? Just because the victim was a clown and he had written a book about a clown didn’t mean they automatically knew each other.

  Kelly leaned over and opened his briefcase with a loud ‘click’. His hand was out of Ben’s view for a moment, then he withdrew it and handed a book to him. It was a first edition of Clownz with the original artwork on the cover.

  “Open it at the front,” Kelly said.