by steve higgs
Basic had decided that he did not need to go to the toilet before we left and then had changed his mind fifteen minutes down the road, forcing me to pull off for the services at Farthing Corner. While I waited for him, I received a text from Jane to let me know she was safe inside her house. I blew out a small sigh of relief.
With Basic back in the car, the journey took just under the hour I predicted it would, and the Satnav took me right to her door where, in the window next to it, I saw the curtain twitch as I pulled up. Before I was out of the car, the door to the house was opening and a lady in her early forties was coming down the driveway. ‘Mrs. Carter?' I enquired.
‘Yes. Mr. Michaels, is it?'
‘And my associate, James Burnham.' I motioned towards Basic as he rounded the front of the car to join me on the pavement. Mrs. Carter had naturally blonde hair that was going grey but had been dyed to maintain its original colour. It was a few weeks past needing a refresh on the dying process though and it made her look unkempt. She was wearing dark blue jeans and chestnut, calf-height Ugg boots, a white satin camisole top plus an oversized, brown cardigan and she was bereft of make-up. The overall impression was that she had given up on her appearance a bit, but I could see that she had been attractive once and could be again if she decided it was something she wanted.
‘I am so glad you are here.’ she said, ushering us into the house. ‘He has been like this for hours now.’
‘Please show me.’
Mrs. Carter led Basic and I up a narrow staircase that bisected the house. It was a design one found all over England in semi-detached houses of a similar era. At the top, there would be a short landing leading to two rooms. One on the left, at the back of the house, and one on the right, at the front of the house. The reverse would be true of the house next door which formed the other half of the building. As we went up the stairs, I began to hear voices. A low murmur from one and an intermittent screeching from another. I could not make out what either was saying but then the smell hit me like an uppercut to my nose.
Human Faeces.
We turned left to go to the back of the house as I had expected we would. The room at the back was always smaller and thus usually housed the child or children with the parents in the larger room at the front. Mrs. Carter pushed open the door to reveal candlelight inside. The flickering wicks of maybe one hundred candles of varying sizes adorned every surface of the room including the floor. The carpet had been pulled back so that someone could draw on the floorboards with a black marker. The marker itself was abandoned next to one foot of the cast iron bed frame.
‘Mrs. Carter, who are these men?' demanded a man in a priest's cassock. In his hands, he held a heavy looking bible. He had been murmuring something when we entered the room but had stopped when he saw us and was now staring incredulously in our direction, his gaze swinging from Mrs. Carter to Basic and me and back again.
‘You said we needed to look at alternative solutions, Father.' said Mrs. Carter. ‘Mr. Michaels is a paranormal investigator.'
‘He’s a what?’ asked Father McMeadow looking quite flustered.
I ignored him for a moment. On the bed was a man in his early twenties. He was tied to the headboard with what appeared to be the heavily embroidered stole from the priest's uniform. It was the fancy bit that went over the shoulders to fall either side in front. His feet were free but currently tucked underneath his body. He was naked, all bar a cloth of some kind that he had wrapped around his junk to form a primitive type of underwear. The smell was coming from him – he was covered in poop. His own I assumed. It was utterly disgusting, and I regretted taking the case.
‘Mrs. Carter.' came the priest's voice from behind me as I approached the bed. ‘What are these men doing here? When I said alternative solutions, I meant I would bring in help from within the church. I have summoned the priests that train for this…' I silenced him by lifting my hand.
Kieran Carter was putting on a fantastic act. Mrs. Carter was still standing by the door next to Basic. Distance seemed like a wise choice given the stench assaulting my olfactory system, but if Kieran could take it, I could too. Something was going on. Kieran continued to mutter obscenities under his breath, most of which I could not make out but odd words such as arsehole and lick I could discern. As I leaned towards him, he suddenly locked eyes with me and screamed. The scream was a deep noise rather than a high-pitched screech.
‘You will die tonight. Begone and never return. Kieran is mine and I will not give him up.’ The voice came out sing-song with a sense of amusement to it. It was quite creepy until one considered that it was all an elaborate ruse.
To what purpose?
‘Mrs. Carter, I must protest!' said Father McMeadow in an authoritative and angry tone. ‘I had calmed the demon. Now once again he is agitated and may bring harm to your son. It is imperative we wait for the arbitrators to arrive. This charlatan has to leave.'
‘Charlatan?’ I repeated standing up and turning around to face him.
‘Do you not plan to extort money from Mrs. Carter for rendering some ridiculous service in a feeble attempt to rid her son of this demon?' asked Father McMeadow. He looked beyond me now. ‘Mrs. Carter, please ask this man and his friend to leave.'
‘Well, I um… I'm sorry, Mr. Michaels. It seems I misunderstood Father McMeadow's instructions.'
I didn’t take my eyes off of the priest. I was waiting for something. ‘What do the arbitrators cost, Father?’
He looked at me. ‘Exorcizing a demon is not something one can put a price on.' I was waiting for him to glance at Kieran for support. It would be an unconscious gesture with his eyes only. I was playing a hunch that they were in it together and the whole sham was to get money from Mrs. Carter. That the son had to then be in on it was disturbing, but Kieran would not be the first person ever to swindle his parents. The glance never came though.
‘Mrs. Carter if you wish us to leave then we will do so.' I turned to face her with the intention of telling her that I thought the whole thing a scam but as I looked at her I noticed that Basic was absent.
He had moved behind me and despite the smell, he was about to sit on the bed next to Kieran. Saying nothing, I heard him start to sing a nursery rhyme: Half a pound of Tuppeny Rice.
Kieran was staying in character and was trying to bite Basic as he got closer. Restrained by his wrists, he could not quite get within biting range though, so was just snapping his teeth in the air.
Basic’s childish singing voice was soothing, and I wondered if he was trying to coax the demon into submission – to calm him somehow. I had not considered how Basic would perceive such a case. He often seemed confused by the concept of the paranormal and had trouble working out whether what he saw on his television was real or not. Cop show: Real. Vampire cop show: not real? I understood how it might get confusing.
Basic sat on the bed about halfway down its length, leaning toward Kieran. He lifted his left hand as if to stroke Kieran's hair, a move I would advocate against as it too looked to have crap in it, but as Basic reached the end of his verse he punched Kieran in the side of his head with his right fist.
‘Pop goes the weasel. Hur hur.’ Basic said, chuckling. Kieran was bleeding from the mouth, but the demon act was gone.
‘What the hell, man?' he yelled. ‘What the hell?
Father McMeadow started up his incantations again. I turned to face him. ‘Really?’ I asked.
‘What's happening?' Mrs. Carter wanted to know.
‘Hit him again.’ I instructed Basic.
‘No. No. No, dammit.’ Protested Kieran as Basic lifted his enormous fist once more. ‘Dave, stop dicking about and untie me.’
Dave?
Father McMeadow was looking a little panicked. His eyes were darting about. From the doorway, we heard a noise downstairs.
The Arbitrators had arrived.
Mrs. Carter looked quite confused, but I believed that I knew what was going on. Basic was looking at me with his fist raised
towards Kieran, checking whether he should actually hit him again, or not. I shook my head just enough that Basic got the message.
Father McMeadow was beginning to gather up his things. He was bright enough to know the game was over. I darted forward though and snatched his phone from the dresser behind him before he could get to it. ‘I’ll have that, thank you.’
‘Hey!’ he protested but I ignored him as I quickly scrolled into his messages. Getting more agitated and trying to take the phone back from me his next utterance was, ‘Oi, dickhead!’ as he flailed against my outstretched arm.
Not very clergy-like language.
Basic got up and took a step forward in warning. It was sufficient to convince Dave "the fake clergyman" to give up on his phone. There were footsteps on the stairs and Mrs. Carter was moving to meet with them.
‘Dave.’ yelled Kieran from the bed, reminding him of his predicament. It was time to finish this off.
Using Father McMeadow's phone I dialled 999 and was connected just as two men in black cassocks came into the room preceded by Mrs. Carter. ‘What service? The Police please.' I said smiling at the two new men. They took one look at me, glanced at Kieran on the bed and bolted. As they ran loudly back down the stairs, I covered the mouthpiece of the phone and said, ‘Let them go.' I saw no point in Basic giving chase. The Police would pick them up soon enough.
‘Will somebody please tell me what is going on?' pleaded Mrs. Carter.
‘Of course.' I replied. ‘Give me just one moment please.' The Police dispatch person came on the other end of the line, whereupon I invited him to send a squad car to the address and provided a brief explanation of what the Police would find there. When he asked for more details I asked him to wait a moment and sent Basic to take Mrs. Carter downstairs where he should assist her in making some tea. Bewildered, she complied and went with him, holding his hand.
Father McMeadow moved to untie Kieran but stopped when I instructed him to do so. I wanted Kieran left where he was until the Police arrived, it would not be very long. Kieran was protesting that he needed to pee, which I ignored as he had clearly been content to urinate and defecate on the bed thus far. I did, however, leave the room, quite thankfully, and took Father McMeadow with me.
The Police arrived just a few minutes later by which time I had drunk half my tea and had explained to Mrs. Carter that she was being scammed by her son and his friends. She was going to be asked to pay the Arbitrators a few thousand pounds to rid her son of the demon. I showed her Father McMeadow's phone on which a series of WhatsApp messages between him and Kieran and another chap named Herbert could be read setting the whole thing up.
Staring disbelievingly at the phone, I watched as the truth of it dawned on her and a mother's rage took over. Yelling that she was going to kill him she headed for the stairs. I had expected something like this from her, so had blocked her route. For her own sake, she needed this to be handled by the Police now.
Basic opened the door to them as they came up the driveway and thirty minutes later, we were back in my car on our way back to Finchampstead. I could not decide though if the smell of human poop was in my head or had permeated into my clothes or was perhaps actually on Basic because he had got quite close to Kieran when he whacked him in the head.
I hoped that it was not the latter as it heightened the possibility that there were actual bits of poop on Basic. I did not want them in my car, stinking it out until I got it valeted, and I did not want a phone call from Basic’s mum asking me what the heck we had been getting up to.
There was nothing I could do about it for now. I swung off the A road, down the ramp and onto the motorway with the car pointed north towards London. It would not take long to get home, but it would be close to 2000hrs by the time we got there and that would effectively be the end of the day.
From the passenger's seat came a gentle snoring noise. Basic was slumped against the window asleep. In the quiet of the car, I thought again about the Klown case. I should call my clients, who I had mentally labelled as the CLITs and check in with them. It was a standard practice for me to call my clients on a daily basis during a case. Give them an update, answer any questions they might have.
My car had a dial to scroll through my phone list which appeared on a screen in the centre of the dashboard. As I pressed dial on my steering wheel, I realised that I did not know which of the gentlemen the call would connect to. It was a safe assumption that I had the number for only one of them.
The call clicked in as someone picked up. ‘Hello?’
I recognised the voice as belonging to Richard Levaraugh. Otherwise known as Big Dick. ‘Mr. Levaraugh, good evening. This is Tempest Michaels. I need to update you on your case.'
‘Ah.’ he said, reluctance in his voice. ‘Ah.’ Again. ‘I, um. I’m afraid there has been a change of plans.’
‘How so, Mr. Levaraugh?'
‘Well, some of the other chaps, not me of course, but some of the chaps they were not convinced that the Klowns are actually real men and not demons like you said.’
‘I’m listening.’ I already knew where this was going. The CLITs would not be the first customer to decide that I had no idea what I was doing when I claimed that their particular case was not at all paranormal in nature.
‘Well, err. Well, they hired a different investigator and those of us that wanted to stay with you cannot afford to do so by ourselves.’ He fell silent.
‘Mr. Levaraugh, thank you for your candour.' I was annoyed, bordering on angry but I was calm. ‘I will be solving this case regardless of whether you and your friends are paying me to do so.' I told him through gritted teeth. ‘The Klowns are just men, I have met several of them now so there is no doubt whatsoever in my mind.'
‘Oh.’ he said, sounding surprised.
I pressed on, disinterested in what he might have to say now. ‘I will assume that your new investigator is Dr. Lyndon Parrish. I am afraid you will find that he is misleading you, so please be careful what your group commits to pay him for his services. Once I have solved the case, I will let you know. If you change your mind about Dr. Parrish please contact me.'
I bid him a good evening and punched the button to disconnect the call. Dr. Parrish and I were going to have a conversation soon. It was one thing to set up a rival business under my nose and mere feet from my office but another thing entirely to poach my customers.
Evening Meal. Wednesday, 26th October 2037hrs
I had dropped Basic at home and watched him go into his house. He lived with his mum still and was a necessary part of her life. I had never asked him about his father, so the man may have absconded years ago, be a mystery to his mother or might even have died at some point in the past. Whatever the case was, Basic was the man of the house and took care of his mother just as much as she took care of him.
I lived just around the corner from their house and was home in less than a minute. Just as I had instructed Jane to do, I drove past my house looking for anything that seemed out of place. I took two laps but could see no cars with people in them or cars that I did not recognise. I parked hesitantly nevertheless, then waited in the car with the lights off for a few minutes looking all around for movement. When I was as satisfied as I could be without sending out a patrol to check the area, I got out and locked my car and went to Mrs. Comerforth's.
The dogs heard me coming, or perhaps reacted to the outside light coming on as I neared the house and were both at the door trying to get out to me when Mrs. Comerforth opened it. I greeted them with equal enthusiasm, getting on the floor so they could climb on my lap and lick my hands. I thanked Mrs. Comerforth once again as she handed me their leads and water bowl, then took them home where they went immediately to the kitchen to stare intently at the cupboard I kept their treats in. I followed them to the cupboard, teased them for a moment with a conversation about their lack of exercise but gave them each a chew stick anyway.
I checked my watch to find it was 2037hrs. I was overdue for my e
vening meal. My stomach rumbled as if spurred into action by my thoughts. The pizza at lunchtime had undoubtedly carried me further than my usual lunch would have, but now I was hungry, and it was already getting late to start preparing something healthy. I opened the fridge and rooted around a bit looking for a magical low-calorie meal to jump out. When one was not forthcoming, I gave in and went to the pub.
The dogs were only too happy to go out again, they still had their collars on when I called them and as usual, they worked out where we were going and dragged me the last hundred yards through the public-house carpark. My ribs were starting to hurt again, reminding me that I was due another dose of painkillers. I fished in my bag and popped two out of their blister pack while I waited for the Landlord to pour my pint. I swallowed them with the first gulp of amber liquid.
‘Shall we take a seat, chaps?' I asked the two dogs. They were staring up at me quite intently as they had heard the Landlord hand a packet of crisps across the bar to me. The crisps were for sharing, although I planned to eat most of them, and they were to tide me over until my dinner arrived. I had ordered a burger and chips as it was something the Landlord assured me would not take long and had paid for a second pint in advance as I was fairly sure I would have finished the one in my hand before the food arrived.
As I lowered myself down into the old sagging sofa near the open fire, my phone started buzzing in my pocket. I had to shuffle around a bit to retrieve it. It was in my back pocket, so I was sat on it, but the simple movement was compounded by the stiffness in my ribs.
The screen identified the caller as Sophie which caused me to swiftly punch the green answer button.