by steve higgs
We wandered back to the office with Big Ben attracting yet more appreciative looks from female pedestrians. A young lady on a bicycle rode it into a raised flower bed while staring at him. Big Ben went to aid her, so Basic and I waited while he picked her out of the flower bed, dusted the dirt from her clothing and handed her bike back to her. All the while he was chatting amiably with her and complimenting her outfit. Then he handed her a business card.
He was wearing pants and a hospital gown!
I did not wish to dwell on where the card had been, but I had seen them before, he kept a supply of them to hand out to girls when he was short on time to chat them up. The card was little more than a “get it here” token. Again, I wondered how he got away with it. Back upright and back on her bike she wobbled off down the High Street with a grin on her face and almost crashed again as she checked him out over her shoulder one more time.
‘Come on, walking penis.’
‘Tut, tut, Tempest. You should be observing and learning, not getting envious.’
I rolled my eyes and went inside and up to my office. Basic and Big Ben followed me. It was warmer inside, making me realise just how cool it was outside and thus what a convincing job Big Ben had done of ignoring it.
‘Hi, guys.’ James said as we came in. ‘Anyone for coffee?’
We all nodded. ‘James, have you been able to find any victim or witness statements that refer to the Klowns delivering messages during their attacks?’ I asked him as he headed over to the kettle and cups. I went to the window and looked out.
‘Err, one or two, I think. It is not a detail I have been looking for.’
‘I am going to spend some time on that now. Are you staying for the afternoon?’
‘If you need me to. I was heading to a salon to get my hair done and then meeting Simon for a little food before drinks tonight, so I might as well just stay here rather than go home first.’
‘Perfect. We can tackle it together.' I said, still looking out of the window.
‘Is everything alright?’ James asked.
‘There are two chaps on a bench across the street.’ Big Ben, Basic and Jane came to look with me.
‘Yes, there are.’ Big Ben acknowledged.
‘They look like cops to you?' I asked. They were in their late twenties probably, wearing cheap suits and had functional haircuts. They were talking between themselves, but they were not eating lunch, they were not eyeing up passing girls and they did not fit in.
‘Maybe.’
‘Hey, Fellas!' I called out loudly. They both raised their faces to see where the shout had come from. I memorised their faces so I would know if I saw them again. I had a distinct feeling I was being tailed.
‘I could do with going home to get clean and maybe find some clothes.' said Big Ben.
‘Sure thing, just take the car and leave it at my place once you are done.’ I stepped down from the window and handed Big Ben my keys.
‘Are you coming tonight?’ asked James.
‘Most certainly.’ He replied. ‘I’ll get a taxi back from Tempest’s when I drop the car off later.’ Big Ben departed, leaving us to the task of yet more research.
I left James trying to find any record of the Klowns saying cryptic things to the victims and called Amanda. While I waited for it to connect, I went back to the window. The two men were gone.
‘Hi, Tempest. You are lucky you caught me; I am just going out on patrol.’
‘Have they got you working crazy hours?’
‘Pretty much. They have trebled the presence in towns and villages, in shopping centres and at any event that is taking place. Lots of overtime pay, which is nice for a while and most of the chaps want it, but it will get tedious soon enough. I am telling myself this is the last time I will ever do any of this, but it has meant that my shift countdown clock went out the window. I only had three shifts left and suddenly they have shoehorned in another four, plus each one of them is more hours. What can I do for you, anyway?'
‘I have a sneaking suspicion about the Klowns motive. Can you get me whatever information there is in the victim and witness statements about the Klowns saying things to them?’
‘What sort of things?’
‘Well, I don't really know. The old schoolteacher that was attacked…' I went on to explain the message they delivered to her and how I wondered if there was some personal connection. She agreed that my theory made a kind of twisted sense. I got a feeling there was something she wanted to tell me, but that she was holding back. When I pressed her for it she clammed up.
She had to go, so we said goodbye, I wished her a quiet patrol and I got back to the task at hand. As always, James had found something.
‘There is a fellow here that was chased and robbed and given a beating two weeks ago in Borough Green. He was interviewed by the Weald Word in which he is reported to have said, “They told me I had earned it. I was a know-it-all bossy twat and had it coming.” He goes on to say that he had no idea what they were talking about.’
The statement fit the pattern I was looking for – it was a personal message delivered by the Klowns to an individual that I believed they had deliberately, not randomly targeted. But why? For the next hour, James kept on at the computer while I looked up numbers for the victims. These were not easy to come by as most people are unlisted now, the era of the mobile had killed the home phone market, but I was able to find a handful and that was enough. A young woman in Dover had been attacked leaving work in the carpark behind her office. The Klowns had not hurt her exactly, it had been one of the very early attacks, but they had certainly scared her and had told her she should have said yes when he asked her out. They had not elaborated on who he was.
Then I found another woman who the Klowns had slapped on the face repeatedly all the while asking her how she liked it and why did she think she had the right to slap his face?
James found another report in an online news feed. They all pointed to the same thing – the Klowns were targeting people with pinpoint accuracy. Everyone they had gone after was for a specific reason.
My whiteboards were filling up with information, getting to the point where I could barely understand them myself. I stood back and looked at the list again. Could I call it a pattern? Or was I forcing the pattern into existence because it suited my theory? I asked James, he just shrugged.
‘I really need to think about going, Tempest. Simon has a table booked for six ‘clock.’ I resisted asking him if he meant 1800hrs because I would just sound like a dick if I did. My watch claimed it was 1747hrs so it was indeed time for James to go.
‘Basic, can I get you a taxi home?’ I asked. He was taking his mum to bingo. He had been quiet all the while we were going over the case, sat at the table adding hues of greens and browns to a complex scene where herbivores were coming out of a swamp and eating the trees that lined the water’s edge. In the background was a carnivore watching them. He had done a good job.
‘Manda said I was to stick with you.’ He replied simply while continuing to colour. His tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration.
‘I am going out tonight with Big Ben and the others. I will have lots of protection.’ He thought about that for a moment but agreed that I would be safe with Big Ben and Jagjit and Hilary.
Ten minutes later James was gone, and I was watching out the window for the taxi to appear. When it did, Basic and I descended the stairs together, I gave the driver sufficient to get him back to Finchampstead plus a tip and gave him the address.
‘Hey, Tempest.’ Basic was leaning out the taxi window. ‘What did the egg say to the clown? You crack me up!’
The Warren, Rochester. Thursday, October 27th 1952hrs
I had considered inviting Sophie out tonight. We had a date tomorrow and there were going to be other ladies out with us tonight not including James, who was actually come as a boy for once. In the end, I theorised that a first date where she met more than half the people I knew was pro
bably not a clever move.
Thinking about ladies reminded me that Hilary was coming and was bringing his wife. I had never actually met Anthea Clinton. She had glared at me once when I came to pick Hilary up from his house some months ago, but we had never exchanged words. Speaking with Hilary, who I might have to actually call Brian for the night, I got the distinct impression that she did not approve of me, or my business or of my friends or of her husband’s involvement in any of it. Thus, I was suspicious that I might spend a portion of the evening giving her a good listening to. I was not however of a mind to be talked down to at length, so my bigger concern was whether I could successfully navigate a truce with her before it became a problem for Hilary/Brian. I would find out soon enough.
I pushed open the door and went inside. There was a bored-looking doorman/security guard that gave me a once over as I neared the door but had not seen fit to question me. Was it simply that I looked respectable and therefore unlikely to be carrying a weapon? Or was he just not doing a very good job?
Looking around the bar I could not see any of my group. Was I really the first to arrive? I went over to the bar to get myself a drink.
‘Tempest.’ called a voice I did not recognise. It came from an ordinary looking, slightly pudgy guy with a beard. I was looking at him, trying to work out where he knew me from, but he left the post he had been keeping at the bar and came to me before I could do the maths. ‘Simon.’ he said, offering me his hand. He saw my confused expression and laughed. ‘Sorry, I hear so much about you that I feel like we know each other. I’m James’s boyfriend.’
Of course.
I shook his hand and said it was a pleasure to meet him. Behind him, Big Ben was coming through the door with Jagjit and his date. I had not exactly been paying attention to the paramedic Jagjit had been flirting with on Saturday night but what little I remembered was a pleasant enough looking woman. Accompanying him now though, with her arm looped through his and a laugh on her lips was a lady that I would challenge others to not describe at stunning. Simon saw my gaze and followed it, although he managed to miss the lady I was looking at and spotted the larger than life man holding the door for her.
‘Is that Big Ben?' he asked in a hushed and reverent tone and watched as I nodded. ‘Boy, I really wish he was gay. I would leave James in a heartbeat.' Big Ben's appeal was universal.
Big Ben was wearing a pair of skinny jeans that made his thighs look muscular and his waist small. Beneath his jacket he had on a Ralph Lauren polo shirt, which he favoured because they had a cuff to the sleeve that would cut into his biceps, accenting just how big they were. As he came into the warmth of the bar, he shucked his jacket and made sure the veins on his arms were visible. There were girls in the bar, so for him, this was probably a target rich environment.
‘Hey, guys.’ I said in greeting as they came to the bar. ‘This is Simon. James’s boyfriend.’
As they all shook hands, I introduced each of my friends in turn until I got to Jagjit’s date.
‘Alice.’ she provided helpfully.
‘Good to meet you, Alice.’ I meant it. Jagjit had been single for a while and deserved some fun.
‘So, um. Where is the birthday girl or boy?’ asked Big Ben. Like me, he struggled to work out how to refer to Jane/James when he/she was not present because one could never tell what way he/she had elected to dress that day. Big Ben was not known for his political correctness though. In fact, he would often play upon it in an attempt to get laughs or shock people.
‘James went to the gents.’ Answered Simon. ‘Here he comes now, in fact.’ Sure enough, James was weaving through the people gathered at the far end of the bar to get back to us.
So, Simon. Do you cross-dress at all?' asked Big Ben. The question was not one that I would have considered polite to ask but he managed to ask it engagingly as if he was truly interested.
‘No. No, I don't. I am strictly just gay. James is LGBT. It makes his wardrobe hard to fit into our bedroom, so it spills into the guest bedroom.'
Big Ben chuckled, which drew a quizzical expression from Simon as if perhaps Big Ben was mocking him. ‘Sorry. I was laughing at myself.' he said quickly, seeing his rudeness. ‘I only just learned what LGBT stands for.'
‘Really? It is hardly a new term.’ said James as he joined us.
‘No. But I thought it stood for Lingerie, Grub, Booze, and Tits. Like a bro code thing for a great night in. Make sure she is set up for LGBT. Hey, buddy my girlfriend totally went LGBT on me last night. Score! That sort of thing.'
James was just staring at him.
‘Shall we move to a table?' Simon asked, trying to change the subject. ‘I reserved one in the back.'
There was a consensus of agreement. I stayed at the bar to get drinks as the others shuffled off. Seconds later, there was a hand on my shoulder. In the mirror, I saw that Hilary and his wife had just come through the door and were behind me now. The barman had just addressed me, so I placed my order then turned smiling to greet them and ask if I could add their drinks to my order.
Hilary shook my hand, as did his wife, but if I needed any ice for my drink, I could just take it from her expression. Despite her obvious desire to remove my testicles and make earrings from them, she allowed me to buy her a Malibu and diet coke.
With a tray of drinks and with Hilary clearing a route for me, I made my way to the back of the bar. At the table, the chaps were engaged in a discussion about tattoos.
‘I have a couple.’ volunteered Alice.
‘Do you?’ asked Jagjit, failing utterly to hide the interest in his voice. He did manage to resist asking where she had them though.
Instead of answering she just smiled cheekily at him.
‘It's really not my thing.' I offered. ‘The permanency of them holds me back. What if I don't like it ten or twenty years from now?'
‘I have been thinking I would get one for myself as a birthday present.’ James said.
‘What sort of thing?’ Alice asked.
‘I don’t know. Something feminine I guess.’
‘Something feminine?’ Big Ben questioned. ‘Like a tampon with petals around it?’ his face held genuine mystery.
‘No, Benjamin.’ answered James with an eye roll.
‘Poison.' Jagjit announced with a flick of his eyes. I turned to see the delightful Miss Ivy Wong with some friends at the bar. I had told her we would be in here but did not expect to see her. She was still the right side of twenty so had no business hanging out with the old, crusty thirty-somethings. Despite my thoughts on the matter, she was coming our way.
Behind her, I spotted two guys in cheap suits. They were not the same two I had seen earlier, but they stood out from the crowd as they were paying no attention to the ladies in the bar and were both drinking bottled water. They were not looking my way and I was having too good of a time to worry about it right now.
‘Hi, Everyone. Happy birthday, James.’ Poison said as she neared our table. She was flanked by three friends, all Chinese, who she introduced as Hatchet, Mistress Mushy and Bob. The names were probably not what was written on their birth certificates. They were dressed in a similar style to Poison which is to say they had colourfully dyed hair and make-up, even the guys, and wore a lot of distressed black clothing. Together they looked like a post-apocalyptic rock group. ‘We are not staying. I just wanted to swing past and wish the birthday girl a good night.’ Her hand I noted, was intertwined with that of Hatchet. A boyfriend I assumed. This was welcome news to me as she had for some time been trying to convince me to sleep with her.
We bid her and her friends a good evening as they turned to leave. Just as they were going Poison caught my eye and winked. Maybe I was not off the hook just yet.
Anthea had seen the same thing. ‘Are you messing with that young girl?’ she asked me quite directly. I felt that she had been looking for an opening to launch an attack and here it was.
Thankfully, I did not have to get into an argument with her as
almost everyone sat around the table leaped to my defence. I ended up feeling almost sorry for Anthea. She clearly wanted to dislike me yet I was being reflected by all those around me in a very positive light.
As an awkward silence fell, Big Ben waded in with an anecdote to change the tone.
‘Chaps, you know the old fella that is always sat at the end of the bar in the Dirty Habit?’
‘Roger?’ asked Jagjit before I could.
‘That’s the fella. Would you believe he was a porn star back in the seventies?’
We considered that for a moment.
‘No. No, I would not believe that.’ said Hilary.
Big Ben was fiddling with his phone. ‘Well, here is the evidence. His stage name was Roger Ring and here are some of the movies he made.’ Big Ben passed his phone across for everyone to crowd around and look at.
It was a Wikipedia page showing a black and white of a man in his early thirties. He had a shock of wavy black hair and a mustache so bushy it would have scared Tom Selleck. His shirt was unbuttoned to his waist, revealing a mat of black chest hair supporting a huge gold medallion. I could not tell if it was the old fella at the pub or not but there was some resemblance around the eyes. Jagjit reached out with a finger to scroll down the page a bit. His movies were listed beneath his bio: Damned Good Roger Ring, Good old Roger Ring, Well Roger me!
The list was quite extensive.
‘So, what is it that you do, Ben?’ Asked Simon. ‘You clearly keep yourself in great shape.’ James cut his eyes at his boyfriend. ‘Are you a gym instructor?’
‘No, dear chap. I am however responsible for helping ladies burn calories. As often as I can.’
‘Are you unemployed?’ asked Anthea, some disdain in her voice at the thought.
‘I would class myself as retired actually. I have sufficient funds to avoid paid employment. Besides, not having a job means I can spend more time helping ladies with their pelvic fitness.’
‘You mean you just laze about and chase women.’ Anthea was being a bit snarky. Hilary had picked up on it and was gently nudging her with his knee. She was happily ignoring her husband though.