by steve higgs
‘Hey, kid.’ He said as I entered the room. Then he looked to the door behind me, ‘Where’s Mum?’ He asked, wondering why she wasn’t following. He didn’t know I was here with Rachael.
Since he was very clearly feeling back to normal and was still being dealt with by a doctor, I pulled out my phone and dialled the number for mum’s phone.
It rang for a while before she answered. ‘Hello, Tempest. I’m still at my meeting. Has the baby arrived.’
‘Yes, it has….’
I had stopped speaking because I could hear that she was no longer listening to me. She was speaking to other people at her end, no doubt the group of women she was with and she was now telling them about her latest grandchild.
‘Well, come on, Tempest. Do I need blue wool or pink?’
I sighed. ‘Dad’s awake.’ I blurted. It was the only way I could change the course of the conversation.
‘Oh. Oh, jolly good. Now how about that wool?’
The news that her husband had woken up from a head injury which had kept him unconscious for several days was accepted, acknowledged and parked in favour of having something juicy to tell the ladies she was with. ‘Pink, mother.’ I supplied.
Again, I could hear the background babble of voices as the news was delivered. ‘What is her name, Tempest?’
‘I have no idea, mother. I…’
‘Well, go and find out, Tempest.’ My mother demanded, cutting me off yet again.
‘Mother I would imagine the task of naming the child will be conducted only once Rachael’s husband arrives. Now, if you please, my father is awake, and I am going to see him. Should we expect you here any time soon? Or is your meeting still the priority?’ I was being a little harsh. My mother had always been able to compartmentalise her life. Dad was awake therefore she probably felt no further concern for his well-being and was content to focus on other things.
‘Tell him I will be along shortly. Honestly, men are so needy. And tell your sister to text me the name of the baby.’ With that she was gone.
The doctor was finishing up whatever checks he had been performing. While I had been on the phone losing a conversation to my mother, the doctor had been shining a light into my dad’s eyes and moving his head around. He seemed satisfied, so was leaving. With a final instruction that my father should keep up his fluids and rest, he left.
‘Hey, Dad.’ I finally replied. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Would you believe I am tired?’ He asked, a wry smile on his face. ‘Four days sleep and I wake up tired. Your mum will probably have a stack of jobs lined up for me because I haven’t done anything for four days.’
‘You might be right.’ We both knew he was. ‘I have been investigating at the Dockyard.’ My announcement grabbed his attention. ‘Did you know there were underground tunnels and rooms beneath the cobblestones?’
His surprised face told me he didn’t. It was a well-kept secret that somehow the Ukrainians had found out about. ‘Big Ben and I have taken jobs there as cleaners on the night shift.’ He listened as I filled him in on the events of the last couple of days and what I had learned so far. As a tour guide on the ships during daylight hours, he was mostly shielded from events in other departments but had noticed the Ukrainians were slowly pushing everyone else out. He had heard about the ghosts and that several of the staff had quit after being scared by them. However, he had only been poking around in the rigging room because, like me, he had an inquisitive nature.
‘Did you see your attacker?’ I asked.
‘I caught a reflection only, but it was a woman. A big one. With muscle to spare like one of the ladies you see doing shotput at the Olympic Games.’
Pasha.
‘I believe I know who it was. Would you be able to positively identify her?’ This was important because I was only really trying to catch the person that had hurt my dad. Now that I was embroiled in the case it would be hard to step away, but we were a little short staffed to be taking on an entire gang of criminals. If dad could point the finger of blame at one person, it might give the police the start point they needed to crack the gang’s activities apart. Then I realised that I was being too hopeful. Yes, it might give the police a starting point, but it would take them too long to achieve anything and even if they did arrest Pasha, she would be out the next day, if not the same day. In the meantime, the gang would continue to operate, and the Dockyard would be a dangerous place to be. Most especially for my father as he would have identified one of the Ukrainians as a criminal and therefore identified himself to them as a target.
He shook his head no anyway. ‘I only caught a brief glance. I don’t think I saw her face and I doubt I would recognise her. If I picked her from a line up based on her muscles, I couldn’t allow a jury to convict her. I just wouldn’t be sure I had the right person.’
I was going to have to do this myself.
Then I remembered the baby. ‘Oh, err. Rachael had her baby.’ I said, turning around to deliver the news halfway out the door.
Dad looked at me. ‘I seem to have missed a lot. When?’
I looked at my watch. ‘Twenty-eight minutes ago.’
‘Right. Is that why you are here without Mum?’
‘Yes, it is. She had a little girl but hadn’t named it before I left.’
‘I wonder if they will let me visit her.’ Dad was looking around for his call button to summon a nurse.
I saw the folly in his intentions. ‘Perhaps it will be best to wait until she can visit you. Chris is on his way with the kids and mum will no doubt be along later as well.’ He looked unconvinced. He was bored with being in bed and wanted to do things. I understood how he felt, but I also knew how deceptive head wounds could be. ‘Also, you only just came around. If you get woozy or are still suffering any ill-effects, you won’t know about them until it is too late.’
He made a disappointed face but accepted the wisdom of my words. ‘Are you off again? Back to the Dockyard to tackle the case?’
‘Not right now, no. It’s Jagjit’s stag do today.’
‘Oh, is that today. Hold on, what day is it?’
‘Wednesday, November 23rd.’
‘Wednesday.’ He repeated. ‘Isn’t that an odd day for a stag do?’
‘Some might say, but it is today for several reasons starting with because it is an Indian family, so the wedding starts on Friday. If we had it Thursday night instead, which is kind of the same thing, we would run the risk of hangovers. This way any ill-effects from overindulgence will be gone before the big event and it was the only day I could book the events I wanted. It was all very short notice.’
He nodded his head. ‘Fair enough.’
I checked my watch again. ‘I need to get going actually. My dogs are at your house, so I have a round trip to perform before I can get to the venue.’
‘Okay, kid. Have fun. I should be out of here tomorrow. Maybe then I can help you at the Dockyard, be your inside man perhaps?’
My instant reaction was that I didn’t want to involve him in what I considered to be a dangerous situation. I didn’t say that though. I hadn’t explained to him about the Ukrainians, not in any detail anyway, so I gave him a thumbs up. If they did let him out and mum didn’t put a ban on him leaving the house, then I would tackle it.
Even though I could feel the time ticking away, I went back to the maternity ward to catch up with Rachael and the new baby. Enough time had passed that they had moved her out of the delivery room to a much nicer room where there was a proper bed for her and a TV and a crib thing for the tiny infant.
I knocked on the door, waited and went in when I heard Rachael say, ‘Come in.’
She was dressed in a hospital issue gown, robe and slippers and was laying on the bed. An empty tea cup was cooling on the night stand next to the bed while in her hands a plate showed the remaining crumbs of a recently devoured sandwich. The TV was on, some daytime soap I didn’t recognise, but Rachael was looking at the baby instead.
&n
bsp; ‘Have you named her?’ I asked.
She shook her head. ‘I will wait until Chris arrives, but we have discussed it. I like Summer as a name. possibly Summer-Storm. Dad would like that.’
She jolted my memory. ‘Dad’s awake.’ She looked up in surprise. ‘Sorry, I should have led with that. I didn’t know myself until I arrived at the ward. He is talking and sitting up and says he feels fine. He wants to come to the Dockyard with me to solve the case there.’
‘That sounds about right. The two of you are the same. Nothing is allowed to slow you down for long.’ I almost argued, she was right though, that was how I approached life.
I checked my watch yet again. Rachael saw the motion. ‘Do you need to be somewhere?’ She asked.
‘Kind of. It’s Jagjit’s stag do today. He gets married this weekend and I am best man.’
Her eyes widened then she started shooing motions. ‘Go, Tempest, get gone. I don’t need you here. I will join the baby shortly and have a nap. Go have fun.’
‘Okay.’ I said with some relief. I crossed the room to kiss her cheek then left the room and started hauling ass. I had less than seventy minutes before I was due at the venue and about seventy-five minutes of stuff to do first. I was supposed to be getting picked up so that I could leave my car at home, but couldn’t see any way of achieving that without making more people late.
By the time I got to the car park I was jogging.
Man stuff. Wednesday, November 23rd 1600hrs
Getting across to my parent’s house to collect the dogs was easy enough, but by the time I tried to get from there to my house the schools had kicked out and the roads were clogged with mums in cars.
Sitting in my car, I had watched the minutes tick away unable to do anything about it. When I finally got home, the walk I had wanted to give the dogs before dropping them off next door became an abridged run around the garden to make sure they were empty of waste fluids. They got a treat from the jar and a hug before I dropped them off at Mrs Comerforth’s for the third time that week. Then I had to run back into my house to grab a fast shower and a change of clothing.
We would be driving adapted race cars for the next two hours so I used the thirty-minute drive to Brands Hatch race track as a warm up in my nippy, red Porsche. The fact that I made it in thirty minutes, testament to how fast I had driven as it should have taken closer to forty-five.
At 1600hrs, I had been there less than a minute and was just coming into the bar where Jagjit, Big Ben and the others were gathered.
The eleven chaps were already in their race suits, a one-piece leather outfit designed to make the wearer feel like a race car driver. A young chap asked me my size on the way in before scurrying away to fetch another one for me. Another gentleman, this one older and vaguely familiar, was addressing the chaps who were all seated in a single row in front of a lay out of the track. He was explaining how the afternoon would proceed and about racing lines and how to get the best out of the event.
Then, just as I was about to take my seat, I saw him. Two in from the far left, sitting next to Kit was his friend Ian. The one that knew Jagjit but Kit couldn’t remember how.
Well, I knew how. He had arrested him. And me. And Big Ben. And several other people I knew. It was Chief Inspector Ian Quinn.
Now the comments about not being able to make friends in his job made sense. Kit looked to be early forties, which made the two men about the same age. Kit claimed they went to school together, although I hadn’t enquired whether he meant University or a younger period in their lives.
This threw a curve ball into the day and I had to wonder how Jagjit felt about it. I would find out soon enough. For now, the chap standing in front and talking was in full-flow and had indicated for me to take a seat. All heads turned as his attention lifted from those seated, so I gave a quick wave of hello as I took a chair and tried really hard not to scowl at CI Quinn.
Just then, the young man that had scurried away to find my race suit returned.
As it turned out, Jagjit hadn’t even recognised Ian Quinn. They had been introduced only briefly and the subject of where he knew Jagjit from had not arisen.
‘He arrested you.’ Big Ben pointed out when I asked. ‘Or rather, he had you arrested.’
Jagjit’s jaw had dropped. ‘Let’s all play nice now that we are here, shall we?’ My tone was aimed at Big Ben and demanded compliance. It was a well-established fact that I was the sensible one in the group. The one that would do the right thing and could be relied upon to be diplomatic. In the same way, Big Ben was labelled as the one most likely to take offence and push someone’s head through a wall.
Big Ben muttered something that rhymed rather well with mucking runt but promised to be agreeable for the duration of the stag party. I crossed the room to speak with CI Quinn.
‘Ian, this is something of a surprise. When I emailed [email protected] I had no idea the Ian I addressed it to would turn out to be you.’
‘I see. Am I to assume I am not welcome?’ He asked, his tone guarded.
Kit, who was standing next to him looked quite taken aback. ‘What’s going on chaps?’ He asked. ‘Is there something I should know?’ He looked poised to step between us.
I smiled as congenially as I could. ‘Not at all. Ian and I know each other through work and have never had the chance to socialise before.’
‘Yes.’ CI Quinn joined in, ‘Yes, we met through police business as Tempest here is a detective.’
‘Oh, I know.’ Said Kit. ‘Getting quite famous too. Jagjit is always telling us about your adventures.’ Kit was addressing me now so didn’t see the briefest sign of displeasure sweep across Ian’s face. To his credit Ian quelled it no sooner than it arose.
He caught himself at that point, clapped his hands together loudly then raised them in the air. ‘What say you, chaps? A wager on the winner today?’ Our relationship had always been adversarial, but for now at least, we were going to tolerate each other and act as if we were nothing more than two chaps out to celebrate another man’s loss of singledom.
I pulled out my wallet. ‘I say fifty pounds per man, winner gets the first round.’ I held aloft a crisp fifty pounds note, someone produced a clean pint glass and the notes started going into in. Everyone had come cash-heavy, ready for a night on the town. Having been first to support Ian, I moved away to let others get to the pint glass he was holding.
Then I saw my mistake. Basic was behind me. Jagjit’s brothers were in banking and real estate, Big Ben had a huge inheritance, I was a successful business owner and Basic parked shopping trolleys at a local supermarket for a living. As my cheeks warmed, I quickly crafted a lie I thought he would believe: That his mother had given me some money for him to spend.
I went over to deliver my well-intended falsehood to find him pulling his wallet from his back pocket. It was a mangy-looking canvas thing with a Velcro strap that was stuck up with all manner of fluff. Before I could open my mouth, he lifted a crisp fifty pounds note of his own and walked by me to deposit it.
‘Hi, Tempest.’ He said in passing. Then, ‘I never had a fifty before. They look funny and they don’t really fit in my wallet.’
He was right in that they were too large for many wallets. The Royal Mint’s odd habit of making notes increase in size along with value made the fifty almost ungainly in size. I worried he had just spent half his week’s wages.
‘Have you been saving for today?’ I asked, trying to work up to the lie about his mum giving me money.
‘No. I have lots of money now, Tempest.’
Jagjit was within earshot. ‘Haven’t you heard?’ He asked as he turned to face us. ‘Basic is an entrepreneur.’
I waited for the punchline, not wanting to say anything that might be offensive. When no one spoke, I gave up waiting and requested, ‘Do tell.’
‘I sell guitars.’ Said Basic.
I couldn’t help the quizzical eyebrow from lifting. I had never once heard Basic talk about guitars
or suggest at any point that he was even slightly musical. ‘Do you make them?’ I asked.
In return, Basic looked at me like I was being particularly thick. ‘No, Tempest. The guitars don’t exist.’
Now I was really confused.
Jagjit laughed but came to the rescue. ‘Our good friend, Basic, discovered that he can sell air-guitars online.’
‘You have to be joking.’ I didn’t know what other response I could come up with.
‘Nope.’ Basic was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
‘Shall I tell the story?’ Jagjit asked Basic. When Basic nodded, he turned his attention back to me. The chap that had been giving instruction on the racing event when I walked in, was now calling us all to proceed to the track. As we walked, Jagjit started talking. ‘James,’ He used Basic’s real name for once, ‘filmed himself messing around playing air-guitar to an ACDC track a few weeks ago, just one of those random things you do when you are bored. He uploaded it to YouTube and as these things sometimes go, it started spreading. Then he came up with the idea of advertising signed copies of his air-guitar for sale via a well-known social media platform and linked that to the video feed.’
‘What’s going on?’ Asked Hilary because we were dawdling behind everyone else. ‘You are going to be last on the track.’
‘Never mind that. Listen to this.’ I said.
Jagjit backtracked slightly to catch Hilary up on the story so far, then pressed on. ‘So, anyway. It was just a bit of a joke. Wasn’t it, Basic?’
‘S’right.’ He agreed.
‘But then they were actually selling. They are ninety-nine cents with a seventy percent profit margin and purchases are global.’
‘How many?’ I asked. ‘How many sales?’
‘Basic?’ Jagjit prompted.
‘Dunno.’ He replied.
‘Let’s just say it’s a lot and the sales graph is going up still.’
I shook my head in awe. Maybe it took someone with Basic’s intelligence to come up with such an idea. I doubted it would even occur to me. ‘What’s next? Film yourself on a skateboard and sell the wicked airtime?’