by steve higgs
If that prospect bothered her, she showed no sign. Her mood was gleeful. She thanked me several times as we walked back to the entrance room then left me there advising that she needed to attend to something else.
Satisfied that I had met the terms of my contract I wandered back to my lunch. Picking up my plate again I sank down into one of Brett’s luxurious sofas and cared not if I spilled crumbs. Brett was guilty. I smiled to myself like the Grinch at Christmas.
Within the hour I was a sideline attraction. I was still sitting on the sofa but where I had started out alone there were now a dozen or more people going back and forth through the room. They were conducting a search of the house focused almost exclusively on his rooms and I was waiting for Amanda. She had requested that she be allowed to make the arrest like it was a perk she had earned. A mark of respect perhaps for solving a crime that was otherwise going to go without investigation.
There was a plain clothes Detective Inspector on the scene, who had agreed she could and was now on the opposite side of the room briefing her. I could easily hear their conversation. She would meet two uniformed officers at Barker Mill where they expected to find Brett. After she made the arrest, they would take him into custody. A further forensics team would then conduct a search of his offices for further evidence.
I had been largely ignored throughout all of this. It did not bother me. I had considered asking if there was anything I could do to help, yet I had not done so as I was convinced the answer would be negative. More than anything, I was looking forward to getting the arrest over with and to getting home. The adrenalin rush of finding exactly what I was looking for, and in that moment knowing I had solved the case, had drained away and left me tired. I was surplus to requirement for the arrest, but Amanda was my ride home, so I was stuck waiting for her until the task was done.
As she chatted with the Chief Inspector, I wondered why she was so keen to make the arrest herself. A few more minutes ticked by as people bustled past me paying me no heed. Just as I was going to take myself outside for a change of scenery Amanda shook the Chief Inspector’s hand and headed my way.
‘Let's go.' she said not bothering to pause as she went out the door.
‘Okay.' I replied to her back as it disappeared around the doorframe, flailing in my attempt to get my fat bum off the low sofa quickly.
I ran to catch up. ‘All done here?’ I asked rhetorically.
‘We need to get to the Mill fast. The uniforms are already there so I have maybe fifteen minutes before they perform the arrest without me.’
‘Why are you so keen to do it? I thought you liked him.’
‘He appears to be guilty of murder, Tempest. Any interest he may have shown me is of no further concern. Plus, this will be my first arrest ever and since I only have a few days left in the police I feel like this is my last chance.'
Silently I noted that she had managed to be in the police for years without making an arrest. Was that even slightly normal? Were there other officers that could boast the same?
Outside it had begun to drizzle lightly. A fine misty rain fell from the dank grey sky. I turned my face up and let it wet my face.
‘Are you ok?' Amanda asked, paused half in, half out of her car.
‘Oh, Yes.’ I replied. ‘I am just pausing to mark the moment.’
‘We have to go.’ said Amanda. She got in the car and started the engine.
As I crossed the short distance to the car, I looked back at the Barker Mansion, trying to commit the image to my memory. I doubted I would ever see it again.
Neither of us spoke on the way to the Mill. I had no idea what Amanda was thinking. She might still be annoyed with me, but whether this was because she thought I was in love with her and had employed her as a move to get close to her, or if it was indirectly aimed at me because she was interested in Brett Barker and was on her way to arrest him I could not tell. It might be neither and she was simply nervous because she was about to perform her first arrest. I kept quiet though rather than encourage conversation.
My phone pinged quietly in my pocket. As I read the message, I suddenly had something to talk about.
‘Amanda, I have a text message that has come through with no number on it. I didn’t know that was possible, but the message claims that Brett has a false panel in the wall of his office and we will find the Phantom outfit in there.’
‘Let me see.’ she demanded.
I handed her the phone, which she stared at for a few seconds reading the text for herself. I watched her eyes flick across the words then revert to watching the road ahead.
‘I guess we will find out soon enough.’ was all she said.
The Arrest. Wednesday, 13th October 1527 hrs
There were indeed uniforms waiting for us at the Barker Mill. Several of them in fact as if the pair assigned to the task had brought some mates along because they had nothing better to do. A white panel van with police markings was parked next to the two squad cars – probably the forensics chaps. The office building that overlooked the car park had faces peering through the windows.
The rain had picked up. It covered the windows in running lines of water, turning the faces into indistinguishable blobs. In deference to the rain, they were all staying inside despite their curiosity.
Amanda introduced herself and then me. After an initial handshake, I was once again side-lined as surplus to requirement and I considered staying in her car and having a snooze. Curiosity won in the end, so I trailed after the group heading towards the main office building.
Taking charge, Amanda explained where Brett worked and where we would most likely find him then led the assembled group past reception and directly towards his office.
Inside the building, for the umpteenth time in the last week, I followed them upstairs knowing exactly where they were going but with no purpose of my own. As Amanda strode towards the end of the upstairs corridor and Brett's closed office door, I stopped by a water cooler and got myself a drink. The office staff had all stopped work and were staring at the police. Some of them stood up for a better view.
No one moved to make any attempt to stop Amanda or the two uniforms flanking her or the two forensics guys as she opened his office door and went in. From my vantage point down the corridor, I saw the surprise on his face. The door closed. I sipped my water.
Less than a minute later the door opened again, and Brett came out in cuffs with one of the uniformed officers guiding him from behind with a hand on his shoulder.
Brett was led along the corridor where I was leaning on the water cooler. He did not make eye contact with me or acknowledge me in any way.
The office door opened again, and Amanda came out. I pushed myself upright and met her halfway down the corridor before she could close the distance to me.
‘All done?’ I asked her.
‘No. This is going to take a while longer. Bryan, one of the forensics guys already found the hidden compartment in Brett’s office. There was a cloak hanging up and a steel hand thing that has clearly been exposed to some heat – the hot glove thing you described. Bryan said it looks like it has burnt flesh on it.’
My mouth made an ‘O’. Was Brett the Phantom as well?
‘Can I see it?’
‘I took a picture.’ she offered. It showed a crude hand that could be held by a handle at one end. The handle appeared to have a lever on it to flex the fingers. The fingers were articulated at each knuckle. It was chunky looking and could be held at a point where the wrist should be. The handle, I could not tell from the photograph, so I was making guesses, would be made from asbestos or some other kind of insulating material so that the device could be held once heated.
‘What on earth was he thinking, keeping it in his office?'
‘He immediately claimed that he had never seen it before and had no idea the compartment it was in even existed.’
Amanda wanted to stay to wrap things up, but I was done. I was playing no part in current events and had n
ot been involved for a couple of hours now. My time was precious enough that I had no intention of squandering it sitting around waiting for Amanda. I bid her goodbye, promised to catch up later and caught a cab to Dartford train station with the insistent rain now beating against the windscreen.
Luck was on my side for there was a train just pulling into the platform as I was handed my ticket. I boarded the carriage, musing that I could not remember the last time I had taken a train anywhere. It would probably have been to take a trip into central London some years ago as it was the one place only a fool or the very knowledgeable tried to drive and park.
I fell asleep on the train with my face against the window and awoke through pure luck as I arrived at Rochester station. I walked from there to my office in the rain to retrieve my car. A little more than an hour and a half after making my decision to leave the Mill, I arrived back home. The rain still fell, gurgling into the drains. It would sweep the autumn leaves before it, convincing the last few leaves clinging to their summer homes to give in and vacate the premises until next year. Autumn was my favourite time of the year, but it always heralded the bleakness of winter.
As a walked up to my front door my phone pinged to announce a text message. I glanced at the screen to see that Amanda had replied to the message I had sent her from the train. I had wondered how she was getting on at the Mill, but she had already left by the time I asked and was home. She got back before me. Had I bothered to wait…
Oh well.
It was 1743hrs and once again the dogs were overdue for their dinner. The rain looked like it was clearing, if it stopped, I would take the chaps out and let them chase bunnies at the park.
I allowed myself a smile at another case closed and another cheque in the post. I opened my door and went inside.
Training Jane/James. Thursday, 14th October 0900hrs
I got to work the next day wondering if my assistant would be a boy or a girl today. I was early, so I ducked into the coffee shop to get a drink on my way to the office. Hayley, who I had hoped to bump into was absent. I asked one of her colleagues as she served me if Hayley would be in later. Sharon, according to the name tag told me that Hayley had a day off. I swore in my head and pulled out my phone to text her. Sharon handed me my skinny americano with a shot of hazelnut which I took to a table while I tried to work out what to write.
‘Hi, Tempest.’
I looked up to find Jane, not James looking down at me.
‘I felt like getting a coffee on my way to work and was going to pick up one for you. I see you already have one though.’ she said.
‘I do. I have not yet taken the first sip though. Grab yours, I’ll wait for you.’ I suggested.
Jane smiled and headed over to the counter.
I started with, “Hi, Hayley.” Then deleted Hayley and wrote, “Sexy.” Instead. Then deleted that and wrote, “Sex bomb.” Still not satisfied with the first two words I just wrote her name.
“I held off messaging you for a few days because I am still not sure what sort of relationship you want. The other night was fantastic and would very much like to repeat the event any time you wish. I am mildly,” I crossed out mildly. "I am concerned that I should have text you sooner so please forgive me if I have misread your cues. You did, however, make it clear that you wanted hassle-free sex, so I have kept my distance this week."
I pressed send and away the text flew.
Waiting for Jane to return, I remembered that I had still not booked the venue for the baby shower that was in two days. The realisation gave me a moment of panic. I wanted to book a local place, local to where I was currently sitting that is. There are several tea rooms in Rochester, all of which are nice but there was one I had visited on a lunch date some time ago. I had spotted that it had a private function room and I knew it was very cute and served excellent food in very sensible portions.
I pulled up a search engine on my phone, then changed my mind. I didn’t want to call them. I needed their function room at short notice so needed to discuss face to face when they could fit the party in and maybe grease a palm in the process.
Jane returned, daintily sipping her coffee and holding a little paper bag that most likely contained a cake of some kind. She was wearing ladies leather gloves in a pastel blue that matched her winter coat and scarf. I really wanted to know where a transvestite bought such items. Probably the internet, but I wondered if they were expensive as they were clearly designed to look like women's items while being able to fit a man. The gloves especially must have been hard to come by.
‘I have to run an errand.’ I told her as I got up. ‘Are you okay to open up?’
‘Of course.’
‘I should not be long, but please go through the latest emails and messages. I will take you through financing and invoices when I get there.’
‘Okay, boss.’ she replied with a smile.
I held the coffee shop door open for her and closed it behind me. Jane crossed the road towards the office, fumbling in her Radley messenger bag for her keys. I turned left and headed to The Queen Victoria Tea Rooms.
I got back to the office forty minutes later. Booking the baby shower had taken longer than I had expected but it had also proven to be cheaper than I had budgeted for and it was now pretty much organised. Food, location, decoration all done. I followed up the email I sent to Rachael’s friends on Sunday night with a new email updating them with the venue address, a link to The Queen Victoria Tea Rooms website and advice on what time to arrive and where to park in case they were unfamiliar with the location. I also called mum so that she could handle the ladies she was bringing along.
Upstairs in the office, Jane was sitting at the desk, one hand on the mouse and staring intently at the computer screen. She did not look up when I came in, but she did speak.
‘Have you read anything about clowns recently?
‘Clowns?’
‘Yeah. I read something in the paper last week about clowns being spotted late at night, in places one should not see a clown and how the clowns were not very friendly looking. Then there were reports of girls being chased by clowns and then last night a young married couple was chased. The man challenged the pair of clowns that were following them, and he was stabbed.'
I had read similarly worrying reports but had not seen this most recent one.
‘Anyway, you have an email from a woman who claims her brother has joined a clown cult. She spells it K-L-O-W-N though. She wants you to investigate and bring him back.’
A cult of Klowns. It sounded harmless enough, I felt like making jokes about the activities the klown cult might get up to. Throwing buckets of water that turned out to be filled with confetti, or practicing falling over their own huge feet. Did their uniform come with a spinning bow tie? I held back though and asked to see the email.
‘I printed you a copy.’ Jane said holding up a sheet of paper.
Dear Sir,
I am writing to beg for your help. A week ago, my brother disappeared, but the police do not class him as a missing person because he is still answering his phone and sending text messages. He met someone and has run a way to become a klown. He has changed his name and says that he is not coming home until their mission is complete. I don’t know what his mission might be, but I have seen reports of klowns scaring and now attacking people and I think he is somehow mixed up in it all.
He is a good boy. Can you find him and bring him home?
I read the email twice. It was my kind of work. Sort of. It certainly had the weird element going on.
‘Please contact her and set up an appointment.’
‘When for?’
‘Monday, if that works for her. I can go to her or she can come here. Whichever suits her best.’ I answered after a few seconds of deliberation.
‘I will set up a diary on your email system and link it to your phone so that I don’t need to call you every time I need to organise your movements.’ Jane’s ability to organise my work activities com
bined with a natural confidence to do so was impressing me.
‘Any other emails of interest?’ I asked.
‘Um, all of them?’ she hazarded, clearly unsure what the right answer was.
‘Doubtful. I have not read them, but typically I get maybe one enquiry a day that has some merit to it.’ Jane looked confused. ‘Why don’t you pick one that you believe we should consider? Then we can go through it together.’ I wanted Jane to be able to sift the email and phone enquiries and spot the stupid ones and the ones that I could make money from.
‘Okay.’ she said fiddling with the mouse to scroll through the emails. ‘How about this one? Geoff Gudeon of Mereworth reports that his girlfriend may be suffering from the early stages of a werewolf curse. He believes that it may be linked with moon patterns as every few weeks her behaviour shifts.’ I waited while Jane read a little more to herself. ‘He goes on to say that for a week she becomes unpleasant, difficult to please, grouchy etcetera. She had not yet started to growl, and her teeth have not grown but he is concerned that he may be living with a woman that is going to change into a werewolf at the next full moon. Does he need to be scared?’
I eyed Jane suspiciously in case she was yanking my chain. ‘Seriously?’ I asked. ‘The man’s girlfriend gets bad PMT and turns into a bitch. Case solved. If we charge him for providing an answer to his daft question it would be swindling him. Next one.’
‘Oh. Um.’ More mouse fiddling. ‘Here is one that sounds serious.’
‘Hit me.’
‘Sandra Gross thinks she was hypnotised into being a zombie.’
I opened my mouth to dismiss it as ridiculous hokum. The lady had most likely had gone to a crappy hypnotist show with a few friends, had imbibed one too many cocktails or had dropped a pill, but instead of voicing my opinion I found that I wanted to hear more.