by steve higgs
‘Um, Hayley. Just to clear something up, I really need you to meet Jane.’
‘I would rather not, thank you, Tempest,’ she replied over her shoulder as she went to the kitchen with her dirty crockery.
I caught up with Jane at the counter. I really wanted to show Hayley that Jane was somewhat over-endowed in the penis department when compared to the average girl, but I had given my word to Jane that I would not play on her dual personality/cross-dresser thing, so I was stuck with having to stay quiet. It seemed inevitable that Hayley would find out sooner or later and when she did I would at least then be recast as a gentleman instead of the player she clearly now thought I was.
I paid for the coffees and the jam doughnut that Jane selected, then settled into a comfortable armchair while we waited for Basic. I had sent him a text already to tell him where we were and got the standard single word reply from him in return.
Jane and I chatted about property prices and her plans for a summer holiday while we sipped our coffee. She had endured quite a shock this morning and was either handling it well or ignoring it completely The latter would most likely result in the trauma resurfacing later, but for now, she seemed disinclined to deal with it and I was no psychologist, so I kept the conversation topics light until Basic wandered in fifteen minutes later.
During that time, my phone had pinged with an incoming text message which advised me that the flowers I bought for Sophie had been delivered. I stared at the phone, daring it to receive a text from Sophie. Silently, it defied me.
We saw Basic wandering by the window at the front of the coffee shop and watched as he pushed open the door, poked his head inside and looked about hesitantly as if unsure if he was allowed in. I waved to get his attention, getting a broad smile in return. ‘Good morning, Basic,’ I said as he arrived at our table.
Jane said, ‘Good morning, James.’ She always addressed him by his name.
‘Hi,’ replied Basic.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ I asked.
He pulled a thoughtful face and I waited for him to make a decision. ‘No, fank you, Tempest,’ he replied after a while. ‘I just had my breakfast and mum made me a cup of tea.’
‘Fair enough, buddy.’ My coffee cup was empty, and I was ready to go. ‘We are taking Jane to a garage in Chatham. Can you travel with her and I will follow? If you then stay with her, I am going to Maidstone police station.’
‘Amanda said I was to stay with you no matter what you said.’ He was very good at following instructions, so good in fact that were he to be told to dig a hole he would probably keep going until a different instruction came along or perhaps forever, whichever one occurred first.
‘Good man. But Amanda will be at the police station. If I am with her, I will be safe, yes? So, please stay with Jane while they sort out her car and we can catch up later today.' He looked uncertain, as if he would be failing in his task if he let me head off on my own. ‘I promise I will go straight to the station and nowhere else.'
‘Ok, Tempest,’ he conceded.
Maidstone Police Station. Wednesday, 26th October 1117hrs
I followed Jane and Basic to the garage in Chatham as planned. It was not far from where we started out in Rochester as it sat near the river at the Rochester end of the city. They went inside and seemed to have everything in hand, so I left them there and left Chatham via the Maidstone road, passing the turnoff for my house on the way to the Police Station. I briefly debated pulling off the main road to check on my house and to take the dogs out for a walk, but I was heading to Maidstone to follow up on my earlier request to Amanda. I was fairly certain CI Quinn would refuse my request, so I would go home after that and most likely get there right on lunch time.
I was wrong though. CI Quinn thought that having the Klowns see me might provoke them to break their silence. I was going to be allowed access to interview them after all.
‘We were able to identify them with their fingerprints, but they have not spoken to anyone other than their lawyer since we arrested them.' he said while doing his best to look down at me. We were almost exactly the same height though, so if that was the effect he was going for, it was not really working. CI Quinn and I had an issue, I just didn't know what it was. We first met a few weeks ago when I was looking into the Vampire serial killer case. I had managed to get myself arrested a couple of times in a week mostly by being in the wrong place at the right time. CI Quinn had been leading the investigation for the Police and had decided I was interfering.
Whatever the case was, he made it quite clear that he did not like me, and he did not trust me and most of all he abhorred my profession. I thought he was insignificant, so I mostly ignored him, but I was concerned that Amanda did not like him and that it might be because he was either a misogynist or he had at some point abused his rank. I had no details about it though as Amanda was not the sort that shared problems she wished to handle herself.
All in all, CI Quinn and I stepped around one another quite carefully.
‘Show me where they are, please. I will let you know how I get on.' I said, ready to get on and grill them.
‘Good grief, man. You don’t think I am letting you go in to speak with them alone do you?’ CI Quinn gave me a derisory laugh. He could be such a dick. ‘You will be accompanied by me at all times. When you speak with the Klowns you will do so one at a time; I am not letting them see each other, and you will have all your questions vetted first. Their lawyer will be present, and I am running out of time to hold them here. Soon I will have to have them charged and processed.’
I gritted my teeth invisibly against his attitude, his need to be dominant. Of course, I was not going in alone. I had not for one-minute thought I would be. I simply had not expected it to be CI Quinn himself that was with me. I was escorted into a small room where he and I were joined by a legal counsel who explained what I could and could not say. I had to write down my questions and commit that I would not deviate from them and sign to agree with those terms.
Eventually, after a half hour of being messed around, CI Quinn finally led me from that room to another room where I finally got to see a Klown without said Klown trying to kill me. The Klown was now devoid of make-up and looked like an ordinary man. He was in his late thirties, there were tattoos on his neck and hands which were the only bits of flesh I could see other than his face. I felt it likely there was a lot more ink elsewhere. He had short, brown hair which was beginning to recede, and he was ugly. There was a small scar on his face next to his top lip, it pulled the skin of his face slightly which accented the clearly broken nose. He smiled at me when I came in, revealing teeth that were misaligned and broken, and tobacco stained. Max Travers had not taken care of himself.
I knew his name because CI Quinn had given me a rundown on what they had already been able to find out. It was not a lot as he had steadfastly refused to speak since his arrest. He had a record though, so they were able to identify him once they took his fingerprints. He lived in Margate, was unmarried but had several children with a number of different women. His list of known crimes included sexual assault, GBH and attempted bank robbery. He was thirty-seven years old, five years of which he had already spent behind bars. A lawyer had turned up within an hour of his arrest, the man was sitting opposite me now, right next to Max. Both of them were looking at me. Max was still smiling.
I had my list of approved questions in front of me. I ignored them completely. ‘What do you wish to say to me?' I asked him. Next to me, CI Quinn stiffened, looked down at my piece of paper to confirm what he already knew and tapped the paper twice to get my attention. I ignored him as well. The Klown might have kept silent so far, but he looked ready to talk now.
He was leering at me from across the table. Then he leaned forward in his chair. ‘Tempest friggin’ Michaels.'
Not my actual middle name.
‘How are you still alive? I was sure someone else would have got to you by now.' His lawyer grabbed his arm and whispered someth
ing urgently in his ear. Probably telling him to shut up, however, it had no effect and Max didn't even bother to glance at him. ‘Oh, well. Second chance I guess.' With that, he launched himself out of his chair and across the table at me.
The move shocked me. I was totally unprepared for it as was CI Quinn and the lawyer who both looked equally stunned. I propelled my chair backward to find I only had a couple of feet before I hit a wall. CI Quinn was up and moving as I brought my arms up to defend myself. Max had overstretched himself to get across the table, giving away any secure footing he might have. His top half was now hanging over the table, so even in my injured state, I was able to lunge forward with my right leg and stamp on the back of his head. This pushed him down and off the table where CI Quinn grabbed him. Arms and legs were going all over the place. My ribs were hurting again, so I watched rather than getting stuck in but before I had to consider whether I would need to, two uniforms came through the door.
As they wrestled Max, I stood up and took myself out of the room, following the lawyer a few paces down the corridor. I looked at him for the first time. I had often wondered about courtroom lawyers, the ones that are paid to defend a person they know to be guilty. How do they sleep at night knowing that it was their savvy argument that allowed the criminal to return to freedom and be able to commit more crime? I had heard the arguments and acknowledged that everyone deserved to be tried and proved guilty if they were, but the system seemed flawed and the lawyer earned good money to keep guilty people out of jail. Perhaps my view on the subject was juvenile or innocent. The man I was looking at had a familiar face though. That was the predominant thought in my mind, nothing to do with his ability to sleep peacefully. His chin, his eyes… something about them.
Five minutes later, I was led back into the room where a less lively and far more handcuffed version of Max was sitting in his chair once more. The two uniforms remained in the room in case he decided to try anything adventurous again. CI Quinn had a graze to his chin and a cut to his lip. I wondered when a man of his rank last had to get on the floor for a brawl.
He advised me again that I had to stick to the script with the added threat that he would terminate the interview if I didn't. I saw no option but to agree to his terms this time while also pointing out that my technique had got the man to speak. I felt it more likely that it was just my presence that had affected the change but left that point unspoken.
CI Quinn restarted the interview. ‘Mr. Travers please tell us why you attempted to attack Mr. Michaels while held in custody inside a Police station.'
Mr. Travers said nothing. I was still staring at the lawyer. He had noticed me doing so now and was trying to ignore me. Human nature dictated that he would have to glance at me every few seconds though just to see if I was still looking at him.
CI Quinn spoke again. ‘Max, the charges against you are quite serious. Given your record, you are unlikely to see freedom for some time so it would work to your advantage if you cooperate.'
Still nothing. There was a small vein beginning to pulse in CI Quinn’s forehead. I put a hand on his forearm.
Let me try.
He nodded in acquiescence. I turned to face Max more fully and made it clear I was going to speak. He didn’t need to shift his gaze as he had been looking directly at me the whole time. ‘Max, I’m curious. Why are you such a complete dick?’
He shot out of his chair again only to find a hand on each shoulder forcing him back down. The two uniforms were very useful. Back in his chair, he glared at me, then as I watched, he forcibly relaxed his face and began smiling again.
‘Clearly, it will not be me that claims the reward. It is a shame, but I doubt you will see out the week, our numbers are too many.'
‘You have me at a loss, Max. What reward?’ The obvious inference was that someone had posted a reward for my death. It was a little unnerving.
‘You upset Deadface. He wants you dead. Anyone that he wants dead does not have long to live but he wanted to make extra sure with you, so he offered us a sizeable payment for the task, even more, if we could deliver you to him alive so he could kill you himself.' He delivered this news with the relaxed tone of someone talking about their dinner plans.
‘Deadface. Is that a person?’ CI Quinn asked. The Klown did not answer nor show any sign that he had heard him.
I repeated the question myself.
‘You know who Deadface is.’ Max replied. ‘You created him.’ The lawyer whispered insistently in his ear.
I created him?
‘All of this is your fault. That is why you have to die.' Max continued. I, of course, had not the slightest idea what he was talking about, but I was starting to feel thoroughly creeped out. I had to squash those thoughts though and press this idiot for information. The lawyer was getting more animated in his whispering now.
‘How did you become involved, Max? You have not been out of jail long and there is no mention of Klown-like make-up in your file before now.'
‘I answered the call, Tempest Michaels. Just like all my brothers did. Deadface called and we answered. Our victory will be glorious.’ The lawyer grabbed Max’s arm. He clearly wanted Max to stop talking. I really didn’t, so I pressed on.
‘What victory?’
‘Hah! You can’t go spoiling the surprise, Tempest. You will bear witness soon enough.’
The lawyer spoke audibly then for the first time. ‘Max, you utter one more word and you will be cut off. Try doing this without his support.’
‘Shut the hell up, Adrian. You ain't one of us.' Max spat back at him.
Wait a second.
‘Adrian? You are Adrian Plumber.' The lawyer swung to face me looking like a rabbit caught in headlights. I had said the last sentence as a statement. He shared facial features with his sister, my client. CI Quinn's eyes were boring a hole in the side of my head. He had no idea what was going on. Which I rather liked.
No one said anything for a few seconds. Adrian was especially quiet.
I figured I might as well be the one that broke the silence. ‘I was hired by Adrian’s sister to find him. He ran away to join the Klowns. She was worried. She hired me.’ All eyes were on me. ‘Adrian and I actually spoke a few days ago. Didn’t we, Adrian?’
No response.
‘You told me that you were not coming home and that you were going to get rich.’
Still nothing, as if he had learned it from Max.
‘I have to wonder what rich means to a man that practised tax law in London. Surely you were already earning more than everyone else in the room added together.’
Stunned silence.
I asked him a series of questions without getting another word from him. Both he and Max were great at not speaking. Fifteen minutes later, CI Quinn called a halt to proceedings, terminated the interview and had Max Travers escorted away, still smiling at me as he went. When Adrian attempted to get up and leave as well, he had been invited to, "Sit his arse back down." At that point, he went all lawyerly again, citing that they had no reason to hold him and nothing to charge him with. CI Quinn disagreed and arrested him on the spot. The two Officers that had led Max away returned for Adrian. I was enjoying myself even if no one else was. I had solved a case while sat on my backside. I could call Mrs. Plumber when I left the office and tell her I not only knew exactly where her brother was but that I could guarantee he was not going to move on for some time.
I turned to CI Quinn once the room was empty of everyone but the two of us. ‘What do you make of all that?'
‘I have to say, Mr. Michaels that you are very good at upsetting people. Other than that, we learned nothing of value.'
‘Really? We learned that the Klowns have a leader. We now know his name. We learned that they have a goal, although we have yet to define what it is. We also learned that this all revolves around me and thus we have a new perspective from which to view the case, and from which we might glean a correlation of some kind between the crimes committed thus far.'
CI Quinn's face was full of mock humour. ‘The whole case revolves around you? Could your ego be any more inflated, Mr. Michaels?' he scoffed. ‘That fool was throwing us a red herring and you bought it. You are the centre of nothing. That you have been targeted by Mr. Travers and his partners and by the previous group on Saturday night proves nothing other than coincidence. Do you know any of the other victims? The men and women that have been attacked?' He watched my face, knowing that it was a rhetorical question. 'No? Well then, Mr. Michaels, I suppose you would have me believe the other crimes were committed simply to throw the Police off the scent and disguise you as the true target then.'
‘Perhaps we should interview the second man from the attack outside my office. He will corroborate the theory one way or the other.' I said, rather than rise to his goading.
‘How will we do that now that their lawyer is under arrest?' My goodness, he was an annoying tit.
‘Are you able to hold him?’ I asked.
CI Quinn got out of his chair rather than answer my question. ‘Mr. Michaels you are clearly quite badly injured, my advice as always is for you to give up pursuing your ridiculous paranormal cases and find a new career. This one does not suit you.' He turned and walked away through a door before I could respond, leaving me to fume silently. Moments later, a uniform turned up to escort me back to the reception area whereupon I was dismissed. In all, it had been a mixed couple of hours. I had learned some things about the Klowns, I had found the missing Adrian Plumber and I had accepted that I probably needed to be really worried.
Outside the station, walking to my car, I retrieved my phone from my bag and called Jane.