by steve higgs
I thought about making up flyers with his picture on but could not work out where I would stick them up given how far he might have gone downstream. I was getting hungry and had not organised myself at all. I had nothing to eat now and I needed groceries for dinner, so I locked the office again and headed down into Rochester High Street. I avoided the coffee shop and the chance of seeing Hayley because my face was a wreck. I had a vaguely black eye, just a little colour to the edge of the left orb really, a cut and swollen lip and a cut to my eyebrow plus numerous little scratches to both my hands and face where I had eaten dirt, scrambled around in thorny bushes and generally taken a beating.
I had consciously dressed smartly in a waistcoat and jacket to offset the drunken brawler look I was worried I might portray. Convinced that people were looking at my beaten face, even though they probably were not, I chastised myself for being so self-conscious and put up with it.
A few doors along from my office is a small supermarket chain outlet where I was able to pick up some fruit for lunch and fresh chicken to have for dinner. As I came out of the shop exit, the first thing I saw was Natasha the barmaid walking towards me. I had never seen her outside of the pub before.
Natasha was wearing Ugg Boots and one of those knee-length woollen dress things with a suede bolero jacket over the top, all in shades of brown and cream. She looked great from the toes up. I tried very hard to focus on her eyes and not the wonderfully bouncy lumps in the front of her dress.
Natasha smiled a broad smile to match mine. ‘Hiya, Tempest. Wow, what happened to you?' she said with a little wave.
‘Good Afternoon, Natasha. I had a fight with a bear,’ I said rather than explain in detail. ‘What brings you to Rochester today?’
‘I live here, Tempest.’ Well done idiot, nice one. I bet she has told me that little snippet a dozen times and I have failed utterly to remember it. ‘I heard about The Vampire case.' She was examining my face, which was suitably bruised. ‘I didn't realise you got hurt.'
‘It’s all superficial thankfully, nothing broken.’
I was so brave.
‘Looks pretty sore to me,’ she said.
A thought occurred to me. ‘I'm just off to get a little lunch, would you care to join me? My treat.' I figured I had a fifty: fifty chance, and she may well have something else she was heading out to do. I was just being nice though and lunch with a charming female companion seemed like a good idea.
‘Well, since I am hungry, and you so generously offered, where would you like to take me?’
I let Natasha pick as she knew the area better than I and a few minutes later we were being shown to a table for two at a family run Italian place I had walked by for years but never once gone into.
‘I love this place,' Natasha said with genuine warmth as we took our seats. I could see why. The building was a couple of centuries old I guessed. The inside was creaking floorboards that had heard the secrets of generations, wooden beams, and columns from the original structure were left exposed and there were little tables tucked into alcoves to create intimate spaces. In just one of those, I was now sat opposite the very lovely Natasha.
A young man in a waiter's outfit of all black brought us menus, wine, and olives and departed once more to let us chat.
We were talking about nothing much at all: Rochester and how lovely it is, The Vampire case, the weather recently and it was all very nice when Natasha stopped mid-sentence, took a sip of her wine and fixed me with a stare.
‘You know, Tempest. I always wondered what it would be like to talk to you when you are not out drinking with the boys.
‘Really? Why?’
‘Because I only ever see you, and for that matter most of the men I know when you are getting drunk or already drunk.’
I felt a little defensive at this because I held the belief that I always stopped drinking while just a little merry and long before drunk arrived, but I guess that is just semantics, so I kept quiet and nodded acceptingly.
She continued, ‘Everyone leers at me.' She saw my look of denial, ‘Yes, Tempest. Even you at times. Most make comments. I have to expect most of it, I am a barmaid with big boobs after all, and no one ever tries to grab a handful, so I should be thankful for that, but I get terrible chat-up lines every week, so even when there is someone I might be interested in,' she paused to make eye contact, ‘I never see them in the best light.'
I was not sure what my face was supposed to be doing. I was certain she had made lots of valid points. Was I just another leering, lecherous bloke at the pub? I had never given it much thought, had never placed myself in her shoes. I felt like I was being told off but suspected that was not her intention.
Perhaps sensing my struggle, she leaned forward to grab my hand. ‘Don’t go apologising, Tempest. You are the most gentlemanly among them.’
That made me feel a bit better at least. ‘Natasha,’ I began but she waved for me to stop.
‘It's okay, Tempest,' she sighed. ‘I'm not sure what point I was trying to make.' Natasha let go of my hand, leaned back in her chair and took a swig of wine while looking out the window. As she swallowed and placed the glass back on the table, she blew out a hard breath as if clearing her thoughts, grabbed her purse and stood. ‘I'll be back in a minute.' As she took her first step she paused, leaned down and kissed me lightly on the lips.
By the time she returned to the table our food had arrived and I was still wondering whether it was National hot girls kiss Tempest week, or if my aftershave had taken on some kind of magical power.
We stared at each other for a moment when she sat, both of us waiting for the other to speak. She broke the silence before I had time to work out what to say. ‘I'm not sure what I was trying to tell you, I feel a bit silly.'
‘No need to,’ I assured her.
She fell silent again and I felt a need to rescue us both. ‘Why don't we eat these delicious pizzas before they get cold?' I smiled at her and picked up my knife and fork. ‘We can just be two friends out having lunch.'
Natasha returned my smile but said nothing. As I dug into my pizza, she started in on hers as well. They were quite delicious, the only sound now from our table was the occasional scrape of a knife on a plate.
We finished our food at almost exactly the same time. This was deliberate on my part as I had slowed my pace to avoid finishing minutes before her. I had still not worked out what to say next, so did not wish to sit there doing nothing while she ate.
Natasha was impossible to not be attracted to. I was uncertain of her age, but my guess would be thirty-two ish. Her figure was womanly curves with a thin waist. Her hair, makeup, and nails were beauty shop perfect and she was both intelligent and engaging. If she were to grab my hand and instruct me to take her somewhere for an afternoon of sex, I would not be able to say no and could not possibly come up with a reason why I should. I felt that she had laid the ground for me to invite her out for an actual date, but I was holding back, and I was not entirely sure why.
My internal debate kept coming back to Amanda, but Amanda had shown no real interest. Poison was clearly interested, Hayley wanted simple no-strings sex. Natasha, I suspected was waiting for me to make a move, yet I could not get my head to stop thinking about Amanda.
The lunch was done. I paid the bill, took her phone number and promised to call her soon.
Euphoria. Wednesday, September 29th 1658hrs
I was doing some number crunching for the business accounts when the sound of my phone ringing broke my concentration. I had left it in the kitchen to recharge, so pushed away from the desk, scooped Bull off my lap and went to get it.
It was not a mobile number, nor was it prefixed by 0800 or 0345 or any of the numbers that might suggest telesales or some other nonsense, so it was most likely going to be a client. ‘Blue Moon investigations, Tempest Michaels speaking. How may I help you?’
‘Hello?' came a wobbly little-old-lady's voice.
‘Good morning,’ I replied. ‘This is Te
mpest Michaels. How may I be of assistance?’
‘I think I have your dog.’ My breath caught, and I swear my heart stopped briefly. They say about hearts skipping a beat, well that is what mine did.
I calmed myself enough to speak. ‘That is wonderful news,' I beamed. ‘Can you please tell me where you are so that I can come to get him?'
‘Oh, err, well I am not sure what the right thing to do is. Could you describe him to me, please? I don't want to give him to the wrong person.'
‘Certainly, my dear lady. He is a slightly podgy, black and tan miniature Dachshund with a grey muzzle. He has large paws and a dopey looking face, and I have his brother at my feet right now.' I was desperately impatient to get her address and get him back, but I could only commend her caution. ‘Furthermore, if he still has his collar on it is a brown and white canvass item with a red enamel tag.'
‘Well, I suppose that is as good a description as I could ask for,’ she replied. ‘He is still wearing his collar, that’s how I got your phone number.’
I got her address, thanked her several more times and agreed that I would arrive at her house in the next hour. Her address was number 42 Church Lane, East Barming. I checked the map for confirmation as it seemed incredible, but the little dog had travelled thirteen miles downstream. Whether he had been swept downstream and found a branch to cling to until he was washed to a point of the bank where he could get out or had exited the river almost immediately and had then just wandered until he lucked upon this lady I would never know, but he was alive and well and I would have him back in no time at all.
I whooped! I genuinely stood in my kitchen and whooped. I grabbed Bull and held him above my head like a prize and whooped again. ‘We found your brother, little man.’ I told him. ‘We found your brother. Let’s go get him.’
And so, we did. The lady had given her name as Mary Coalfell. I had her address and phone number and had given a brief description of myself and my car so that she knew who it was when I approached her house. I held the opinion that little old ladies living alone, which I guessed she did, were probably cautious about who they let in and were quite right to do so given some of the crimes I heard reported on the news each week.
The journey took longer than it otherwise might have as I stopped off at a florist and waited for them to turn a fresh fifty pounds note into an ornate bouquet for the lady.
Excitement and some trepidation that he might be hurt or starving, or something was making my right foot heavy. I narrowly avoided a speeding fine on the Tonbridge road heading for Barming. Soon enough, I was pulling up at the address she had given with Bull standing on my lap, craning to see out of the window. Usually, he would curl up and sleep on the passenger seat, though perhaps he sensed something in my excitement.
With the flowers in my right hand, I carried him down the path tucked under my left arm and towards the front door which barked with a familiar voice before I could even knock. Bull's tail began to wag like mad as clearly, he also recognised the bark.
From the other side, I could hear Mary making gentle shooing noises and the door opened. Dozer swished out from between Mary’s legs taking the hem of her skirt with him. It created an effect much like appearing from under a curtain but there he was, wagging his bum and leaping up at me.
I gave Mary a tearful smile, not trusting my voice to hold steady if I spoke. I handed her the bouquet soundlessly mouthing thank you and bent down to fuss him. I plopped Bull on the path with his brother and the two of them spun around each other in greeting, sniffing and nudging one another. Then after a few licks of my hand, I was forgotten again as he ran across the front lawn to look under a bush.
I turned to smile as the lovely little old lady. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ she asked me.
Inside Mary’s House. Wednesday, September 29th 1748hrs
Inside Mary's house, she regaled me with her story of finding Dozer last night just before she went to bed. She had gone out to put some rubbish in the bin because tomorrow was bin day and the bin was already on the curb in anticipation. Her neighbour, Mark was a kind soul and took it in and out for her each week she told me.
Dozer had appeared, framed in the light from her doorway as she had turned around to go back in. The sight had startled her and at first she thought it was a badger and had tried to scare it off by making a noise and flapping her arms. He came towards her when she did that though and she saw it was small dog when light reflected off his tag.
She said she had never seen a Dachshund in any of the houses near her and her street was a cul-de-sac, so she felt it unlikely he had escaped from an owner out walking him. As it was so late, she took him in and offered him water and then when he started looking longingly at the fridge, she gave him some ham which he ate ravenously.
All the time she was talking, I had both dogs sat on her sofa with me, one on either leg sleeping peaceful doggy sleeps. I sipped my tea and encouraged her to talk as she seemed very happy to have company.
She apologised several times because it had not occurred to her to look for a phone number on the tag until this morning and should have called last night. She called herself a silly old woman, but I asked her to stop doing so as she was wonderful in my eyes.
This morning she had no dog food, so had cooked some sausages that she had in the fridge and had fed him those. ‘Do you know, he scoffed the lot?' she exclaimed at that point. ‘He just swallowed each of them and looked up again asking for another until they were all gone.'
He had probably not eaten much in the time he had been missing. It was no surprise to me that he had been hungry, but he would have eaten freshly cooked sausages even after a banquet if he had the chance.
I helped her get down a vase from a high shelf in her kitchen and assisted with arranging the flowers into it. I thanked her several more times, but eventually said my goodbye and took the dogs out to the car.
Driving home I was euphoric. I was having the best day and resolved to spend the next couple of days away from work walking the dogs and playing with them.
And that was what I did.
Pub O’clock. Friday, October 1st 1907hrs
The sun had pretty much dipped below the horizon as I set out on my meandering route to the pub. Ambient light from the city below reflected off tonight's low cloud cover. Combined with the last rays of lingering light, I could easily see my footing and the dark shapes of the dogs as they snuffled around me. I walked past the last house at the edge of the village and through a gate designed to keep livestock one side or the other. By day the countryside near me was pleasant rows of vines bordered by bramble hedgerows, at night it was all still there but nothing more than indistinct shapes.
The paths were clear though and mostly free of potholes, so the only hazard I had to negotiate in giving the boys a walk was the mess left by less diligent dog owners.
Walking in silence, I reflected on the past week. It had been more eventful than most and I had the bruises to show for it. The successful conclusion of the Vampire murder case had become a National story headline. Chief Inspector Quinn had claimed all the glory when he held a press event in front of the mausoleum the morning after Ambrogio was killed. As he had outlined how his team had tracked the killer and cornered both him and his accomplices, someone sounding suspiciously like Amanda had shouted a question from the crowd.
‘Is it not true that the police received a significant amount of help in this case from a local private investigator?' the voice asked.
Chief Inspector Quinn had mumbled something that the microphone had not picked up and then attempted to press on with his explanation. However, the reporters then began asking about the local PI and thankfully he had then named me as a special consultant that had been of some assistance.
Then the story of the Blue Bell Big Foot case broke later the same day and I was identified as the paranormal detective that had solved not only that case but had been involved in the Vampire case as well.
Interviews request
s came by phone and email though I turned them all down bar one which went to Sharon Maycroft of The Weald Word. She had very been pleased to get the story first, which I had expressed seemed only fair given that she had got me onto the Vampire story in the first place. Interview done, she had kissed me on the mouth and whispered that I would be seeing her again soon.
Pleasing though that news was, I was now faced with a conundrum I had never really had to consider before. A few short days ago I had no women in my life and now I was being pursued by Poison, Sharon, Hayley, and Natasha yet found myself drawn most strongly to Amanda. Mr. Wriggly voiced that he was happy for me to tackle all of them, either one at a time or all together - he was up for anything. An enticing concept, but one that seemed doomed to deliver havoc rather than fantasy sex. Personally, I was conflicted about what to even hope for. Amanda was lovely, but apart from being continually nice to me, she had shown no real interest. She had kissed me, but only as a joke, she claimed. Poison was attracted to me, that much I knew, but I had not yet had the chance to speak to her and express my feelings on the matter. It was not something I felt could be handled by text. Was it a daddy thing with her? Was it now some kind of hero worship because she believed I had saved her? Hayley at least was clear about what she wanted, it wasn't really what I was looking for, but was I fool enough to dismiss harmless engagement with a willing lady? And then there was Natasha at the pub. That was a new development, but also one that I had been fantasising about for ages. I had no answers to my lengthy list of questions, and it all felt too complicated to do anything about right now. Maybe doing nothing would yield a result and make the decision for me. A bit cowardly, but hey ho.