by steve higgs
I thought for a moment. The account by Chris was unconvincing but it had been told in a convincing manner. It was mostly corroborated by Gary, so I was willing to believe that Chris had indeed seen a person dressed as the Phantom and had chased after it. The element I was most curious about was how the wound had been inflicted. I had asked Chris about this but all he had been able to tell me was that he had been grabbed around the bicep by a hand that did not feel human, he had said not made of flesh, and a terrible burning sensation had been immediate. He had described the hand as incredibly hot. I mimicked grasping my right bicep with my left hand.
I needed to ask another question and would need to head back to the ward to do so. Before I did though I intended to listen in to the conversation the two lads would have when Gary got back there.
When I had been sitting in the chair next to the bed, I had attached a small one-way radio microphone to the underside of the chair. If Gary and Chris had been making the whole thing up, either for attention or for some other reason, the first thing they would do is discuss in hushed tones how well they had kept their story together or variations on that theme. I had the radio thingy linked to an app on my phone which I had produced from my bag and was now opening.
I set the phone on the table between Amanda and I. ‘Would you like to hear what the chaps are saying now they are back to together?’ I pressed the button that would set the speaker working.
They were laughing when the speaker came to life but then Gary spoke. ‘I tell you, mate, I would give my right nut to get my hands on her tits.' I looked up at Amanda and felt my face instantly flush. ‘They must be at least a double D. I bet a fella is risking a sprained tongue taking those on.'
I stabbed the phone with an embarrassed finger to close the app. Suddenly it was very quiet at our table and I was struggling to find something to say.
Amanda rescued me - sort of. ‘Boys talk about tits, Tempest. Boys look at tits, boys think about tits and boys cannot seem to get enough of tits. Tits, titties, tits. Apparently, I have quite the pair.’
I figured that what I was supposed to do at this point was agree with her and provide a seriously manly comment about boys to make me seem so much more the mature gentleman and not one of the lads. However, my head was completely filled with images of tits now. I was almost straining the muscles in my neck to ensure I did not glance at hers, but then conscious that I was not looking at them my rebellious libido insisted I try to remember exactly what they looked like. I have no idea what they look like I argued because she is always dressed. Ha, ha. My libido replied and instantly supplied an imagined image of Amanda in black lingerie so insignificant I could probably swallow it without needing a glass of water. Her fabulous breasts were barely contained by the cups of her bra and were heaving with every breath.
‘Are you okay, Tempest?' Amanda asked snapping me back to reality. ‘You went very quiet and still, but your lips were moving.'
I had an erection. Mr. Wriggly was very much ready for action – gun loaded and looking for someone to shoot. ‘Err, yes. Sorry. I was, um, thinking about a theory I have.' Cool and suave I was not. Flustered and certain that she could see my penis straining against the front of my trousers I needed to distract myself, but her breasts were still right there in front of me. ‘I have a question about the wound. I want to see if they took a picture of it. Won't be a moment.' With that, I grabbed my bag and swung speedily out of my chair so that I was facing away from her and had my bag hanging over my groin. I did not want some child pointing at my pants and asking: “What’s wrong with that man, mummy?”
I made it back to the ward without incident and by then the head of steam Mr. Wriggly had built up had dissipated. Chris did indeed have a picture of the wound on his phone and it answered a question. The handprint was quite clear, I could see four fingers and a thumb. It had been a right hand that had grabbed him, which meant that it could not have been self-inflicted. I thanked Chris for his time and for sending me the picture, which might prove to be a key piece of evidence later. I retrieved the radio piece from under Gary's chair. They both looked thoroughly shocked that I had bugged their conversation. I would play it back later to make sure that they had not discussed anything other than Amanda's amazing chest, but I suspected that I would hear nothing of worth.
I met Amanda back at the coffee shop and we headed out of the hospital.
There was silence in the car for a minute while neither of us spoke. I checked my watch: 1503hrs. My stomach rumbled meaningfully and quite audibly in the quiet of the car. I put my hand to it in a reflex reaction as if the action would quieten it.
‘Are you okay?’ Amanda enquired.
‘Just hungry. I skipped a couple of meals and appear to now be running on empty.' Hayley had ruined my dinner plans last night, not that I was going to lodge a complaint. Then Amanda showed up this morning and breakfast had not been achieved either. I could not remember the last time I had skipped two meals, but it must have occurred back when I was in the Army and such things could just happen because you were cut off from an easy to access food supply.
‘Okay.’ Was all Amanda had to say in reply. I guess it was obvious why I had missed my meals and she was delicately avoiding the subject.
I took a bottle of water from my bag, drank a large draught from it and hoped it would be sufficient for now.
The Office. Sunday, 10th October 1537hrs
Amanda had dropped me back at the office and headed off home. She was tired from working two jobs and I expected that in the same position I would also want to have a bath and put my feet up. I considered briefly going via the coffee shop opposite my office as my mental clock told me Hayley would be working now, but the consideration started an internal debate about what was the cool thing to do. If I went to see her today was I a bit desperate for attention or recognition? Hayley was quite clear that she did not want a boyfriend, but was that just what a girl said when she was being cool about it all and now that we had slept together was the situation changed? I honestly had no idea and was giving myself a headache trying to work out the permutations. I gave up and went home for a cup of tea.
As I pulled up to my house, my watch claimed it was 1537hrs, my stomach told me that breakfast was quite some time ago. Then I remembered that I had missed breakfast because Hayley had been there, and my brain had lost control of my motor function when Mr. Wriggly grabbed the wheel and steered it towards Boobyville.
Then I wondered if Hayley was still here, which caused a definite twitch from just below my belt. I looked back at the road but could not see a car I did not recognise. Nevertheless, I called out as I went through the door just I case.
No answer was returned. However, I was met at the door as always by a tangle of black as tan as my two Dachshunds fought to get to me. I stepped over them to get into the house then knelt to fuss them both. Bull climbed onto my knee in a bid to lick my face, so I offered him my chin and was rewarded with the warm, damp flannel that was his tongue. Always the chin, never the lips, as a Dachshund will happily lick your teeth given the chance. Dozer had flipped over onto his back, so I could scratch his belly. No matter whether my life was stormy or calm, these two were a reassuring rock of love that I could anchor myself to.
I stood up again and let them into the back garden, whereupon they spotted a cat walking along the back fence and tore across the lawn as fast as their little legs could propel them, barking all the way. The cat largely ignored them but did at least pause to make sure they had not learned to climb the fence since yesterday. I left them to voice their displeasure at the intruder and went to my kitchen to find the kettle.
With the kettle getting excited behind me. I opened the fridge, snagged the carton of milk for my tea and had a rummage. I needed something for lunch. Electing to make a hearty vegetable omelette, I took spinach, mushrooms, peppers etcetera from the drawer in my fridge and carried them to the counter.
Was that a buttock print I could see?
The
counter had been put to alternate use this morning and not been touched since. I would not call myself a clean freak, others might, but I kept the house neat and tidy and above all sanitary, so the veggies went back into the fridge with a groan from my belly. My hunger would have to wait a few seconds longer while I cleaned the surface.
Thirty minutes later a nearly clean plate was going into the dishwasher and food was no longer a primary demand. The dogs had come back inside, eaten a few slices of carrot as a treat and taken themselves off to bed once more.
It was 1621hrs. I had the evening to myself. I found it to be one of the great pleasures of being single and having my own place. I could do what I want when I want. Outside it was just beginning to get dark. Full dark was more than an hour away, but I was a fan of the autumn twilights, so I called the dogs, inviting them to come for a walk. In response, I got the usual silence. Rather than call them again I took a pace to my right and opened the fridge. I could not tell whether it was the displacement of air as the door opened that they react to, or the sound of the light bulb in the fridge coming on, but they could hear it over the TV, a thunderstorm and perhaps even Armageddon. Even when fully asleep, the two Dachshunds would appear if I opened the fridge, so half a heartbeat later eight paws skidded to a stop at my feet. Chuckling to myself, I took their bowls from the cupboard, gave them a slightly early dinner then snagged their collars and leads.
Outside in the cool air, I took them on the long, northern route out of the village that would sweep around the top edge of the vineyards. There were still blackberries in the hedgerow. I stopped to pick and eat a few while the dogs snuffled around my feet. The grape vines themselves had been picked clean recently by the owners. The grapes no doubt already on the way to becoming wine.
On my way back into the village, I considered the merits of a Sunday evening drink at the pub. I had not been to the gym for a couple of days, so I felt that I really should find the time to fit in a decent workout tonight. The truth though, was that I really didn't want to. I was tired. I recognised that I was making excuses, but I still wanted to have a drink in a quiet relaxed atmosphere, instead of an exhausting hour of lifting weights. I was still arguing with myself when I got to the pub on my way home. Bull and Dozer pulled me across the carpark and I failed to resist.
The pub was almost empty. A few regulars nodded a greeting as I went in. The landlord was already reaching for a glass before I got to the bar, so I needed only to nod as he indicated the tap for my usual beverage. The cold liquid was exchanged for a crisp ten pounds note and I suddenly realised just how ready for a drink I was. I downed over half the pint in my first draught. I took a packet of pork scratchings to share with the dogs and settled into a sagging, but comfortable sofa in the far corner of the pub.
Using my phone, I attended to a piece of business I might otherwise forget and sent an invitation email to the list of friends Rachael had sent me. It was an easy task, but the message was sadly lacking in any real detail as I had yet to book a venue. Lacking that particularly important piece of information, I instead requested that they leave a hole in their Saturday early afternoon and advised that the baby shower would be at a venue in Rochester.
Ninety minutes, three pints and a second bag of pork scratchings later I was still berating myself as I ran a bath. It was 1907hrs. I was going to get a bath, watch a movie on the sofa with the two dogs and get an early night. I would go to the gym in the morning.
Self-Flagellation. Monday, 11th October 0530hrs
I had not set an alarm, I never do, but I awoke at almost exactly 0530hrs just as I had planned. I was still berating myself for the extra calories I had taken in the previous evening. Pointless calories in the form of beer which were completely counterintuitive to my healthy diet and exercise regime. I was about to get up and spend an hour burning calories at the gym but considered myself already in deficit through my poor choices last night.
I had packed my gym bag before I went to bed and had laid out my clothes ready to go. I got out of bed determined to hammer out a really good workout this morning.
An hour and a half later, I was coming back through my front door exhausted but elated having achieved that aim. As punishment for the beer, I had performed one of my most brutal routines. I simply selected ten exercises that I could perform sequentially without a break and which would work every body part. I then performed as many sets as I could. Between each sequence of one hundred exercises, ten sets of ten exercises, I would give myself a break to take on water and wipe off the sweat. I had managed seven complete sets this morning, almost seven hundred exercises as I had started to fail towards the end of the last one. Then I had promptly collapsed on the gym floor in a heap of panting jelly. A few of the regular gym goers, people I saw most weeks, had observed my routine and nodded in acknowledgement of someone really going for it.
Arriving inside my house, I had hustled to the loo with almost two litres of water planning its escape route from my bladder. It was 0715hrs as I scooped the dogs from the top of the stairs and sent them to do their business in the garden. Watching them disappear across the lawn, I noted that the grass was getting long and there were a lot of leaves down. I made a mental note to find some time for gardening soon.
In the kitchen, I prepared a healthy breakfast using vegetables, fruit, and eggs then headed for the shower.
Amanda and I were seeing Brett Barker at 1030hrs, so I had plenty of time before I needed to leave the house. We were meeting at the office in Rochester. I was teaching myself to call it the office and not my office now that there were two of us working there. By 0843hrs I had tidied my house, put some laundry on, walked the dogs and driven to work. I was feeling alert and empowered by my early morning workout and very much ready to catch a phantom and solve the mystery of George Barker's death. Whether there was any link between the two I did not know. It was not something I would rule out, but it certainly felt like I was getting a two-for-one deal as both cases involved the same people, same business, and the same locations.
I opened the door that leads up the stairs to my office then changed my mind and went to get coffee. Yesterday I had avoided going to the coffee shop through confusion about how Hayley would view my presence there so soon after spending the night together. Today though it was a working day and thus completely normal that I would be there buying coffee. Content that I had it all worked out, I went in.
I could not see her behind the counter though and as I queued for several minutes to place my order she did not appear. I ordered coffee for both Amanda and I then asked Sharon, my server if Hayley was indeed working today.
‘Nah, got the day off.’ she replied without looking up. Sharon handed me the beverages and moved on to the next customer.
I left the coffee shop and crossed the street. As I neared the office, Amanda was just getting out of her car.
‘Good morning.’ she called.
‘Hey there.’ I replied holding up her coffee cup. ‘I got you coffee.’
‘Ooh, super.’ She took the offered cup from me and tentatively sipped the hot, bitter liquid.
‘Our advert for an admin assistant went live already. I checked this morning.’
‘Yes, I saw that too.’ she replied. ‘I wonder if anyone will apply.’
‘I guess we shall see.’ The conversation had taken us up the stairs and into the office. I checked my watch: Bang on 0900hrs. ‘We should not wait too long before setting off. The roads into Dartford could be hell at this time of day on a Monday.’
Amanda had taken the lid off her cup and was blowing on the liquid to cool it. Her luscious lips bore a faint trace of pink lipstick and they formed a perfect ‘O’ as she did so. I had to look away for fear I might just lean in and kiss her.
She sipped at the coffee and put the lid back on, content that it was now at drinking temperature.
‘Shall we go then?’ she asked.
Neither one of us had even put our bags down.
‘We can do. You wi
ll need to drive though. My car does not have cup holders.’
‘Really?’ she asked, her brow wrinkling. ‘What kind of car does not have cup holders?’
‘Sleek, sexy, German sports cars I guess.'
She shrugged and fished for her keys while turning to go. I locked up and followed her down the stairs.
We got into her car, placed our coffees in the very convenient cup holders and off we went back to Barker Mill.
Barker Mill Again. Monday, 11th October 1012hrs
We arrived back at the Mill at 1012hrs. Today though, in contrast to any days before it, the car park had in it two news crews with vans and all the antenna and paraphernalia needed for outside broadcasting. I wanted to avoid the press if I could, so we parked in the exact same spot as we had the day before, grabbed our bits and dashed into reception where the girl from Friday was stood talking to the two ladies behind the desk.
This was my third visit in the last few days, so I knew the drill and just got on with filling in the visitors' book and taking my visitors' badge. I had to ask Amanda for her car registration number for the form although I had no idea what they used the information for.
The young lady escorted us out of reception via the back door and across the yard, sticking to all the yellow walkways, then into the building that housed the main offices. The door to Brett Barker's office was closed again but as we approached, I could hear him shouting at someone.
The young lady made an apologetic face and we waited outside until we heard him slam the phone down a few seconds later. She knocked, he spoke, we went in. He looked flustered and guiltily I liked it.