Blue Moon Investigations Ten Book Bundle

by steve higgs

  Two.

  Someone shouted something undiscernible

  One.

  We both lifted our right legs and kicked out hard just as Gretchen opened the door. On her tiny frame both our boots connected with her boobs. Dad kicked her in the right boob, I kicked her in the left. She flew backward into the building, tumbling onto her back then over on her head and shoulders to finally land on her front. She didn't move.

  But neither did we. So dumbfounded by the door opening that we just stood still and watched the tiny woman spin end over end.

  ‘Michael!' yelled my Mother, snapping me back to reality. Dad was already moving. Mum was tied to a chair. Actually tied to a chair with rope like this was some old detective movie. The dogs barked, bringing my attention to them. They were inside a lobster pot!

  There were five people in the room not including myself and my parents. The two drone pilots were the only men and they were both moving to intercept my Dad. He was breaking into a run to barrel through them both to get to Mum.

  Of the two women, one was Gretchen and she was down for the count and the other was Tilda. I was sure at least one of them was a murderer, so while they were small and fragile older ladies I was not going to dismiss them as harmless.

  Dad slammed into one of the skinny drone guys, attempting to push him off with a stiff arm to his face like one might in a rugby game. It might have worked if the other hadn't hit him at the same time. The second man collided with my Dad. If I hadn't been snoozing by the door taking it all in I might have been able to prevent it but now Dad was falling to one side from the impact and the man was still shoving against him and throwing a few good punches to Dad's ribcage as he went.

  You don't do that with me around though and get to enjoy it for long. Just as my Dad was falling backward and both drone pilots were regaining their balance I arrived at their location. I had been no more than a couple of seconds behind Dad, which had been enough for them to get to him first but now it was my turn and I was going to show them what three decades of martial arts and fight training could do against two nerdy, skinny kids.

  One swung a punch at where he hoped my head might be about to go, but I had already grabbed the other man as he was getting back to upright and swung myself around him. Using my body as a counterweight, I swung around him, holding onto his coat, planted my feet behind him and flung him into his friend. There was a crack of skulls as their foreheads collided. They fell away from me, neither one knocked out but both reeling from the blow to their heads. I turned to Dad and offered him my hand to get up.

  ‘Let’s get Mum, shall we?’

  ‘Oh, my boys!’ she exclaimed, excitement and pride in her voice. ‘My wonderful boys.’

  We crossed the floor to Mum, but we didn’t get there. Just as we were a few feet away a shot rang out bringing us to an instant halt. The noise was deafening in the wooden building.

  ‘Not so fast.’ Said Roberta. She was stood in the doorway behind us, flanked on either side by the two pirates we had left her dealing with.

  Betrayal and deceit. Thursday, November 3rd 1853hrs

  In her hands, she was holding a shotgun. The two goons in their pirate costumes had one each as well and they were all aimed squarely at me.

  ‘It's about damned time, Roberta.' Tilda snapped as she crossed the room to see if her sister was alright. Gretchen still hadn't moved since Dad and I kicked her.

  ‘I told you not to trust her.' Yelled my Mother, raising her voice so that everyone would be able to hear that she had, of course, been right all along. ‘I told you.'

  Mum had a point. She has been trying to marry me to every woman that has walked too close to me for the last five years or more. Suddenly with Roberta, she changed her mind like there was some odd Mother's version of Spidey-sense going on.

  Dad and I were stood more or less in the centre of the room. The building was formed of a single space, there were no partitioning walls anywhere and there were no windows on the ground floor – or rather, what would be ground floor height. Near the roof, some three metres up the wooden walls, there were a series of small openings on each of the two longs sides. There was no electricity in the building, so the light was being provided by a pair of hurricane lamps and several powerful battery-powered LED light strips. It was almost as light inside as one might find in a modern dwelling at night, but the building contained fishermen's equipment as I had guessed, so there were wooden beams crossing the expanse of the roof some two and a half metres up. They were not loaded with anything currently, but there was other equipment stacked in piles around the room, the effect of which was that the light shining from different spots in the room where the lamps had been placed caused a map of shadows.

  Ultimately, it meant that Dad and I had nowhere to go, so when Roberta moved further inside the building followed by the two shotgun-wielding pirates we had no choice but to comply with her orders.

  ‘On your knees.’ Roberta ordered. Mum was squirming in her chair trying to get loose, but her bindings were too tight.

  Tilda was getting Gretchen into a sitting position, she was conscious again.

  ‘Are you okay, Mary?' Dad asked, ignoring all the madness around him. She nodded, perhaps not trusting her own voice. We were in trouble and they both knew it.

  ‘Mike, Ralph.’ Roberta took charge. ‘We’ll have to carry them to the boat. Stay there for now and don’t let them move. We are going to need rope.’ Ignoring us momentarily, Roberta strode across the room to check on her own Mother.

  ‘Any ideas?’ Dad whispered.

  He was rewarded with a whack to the back of the head with a shotgun butt. Mike and Ralph had taken up hostage management positions behind us. ‘Keep quiet, old man.’ Ralph hissed.

  Satisfied that her Mum was not seriously hurt, Roberta turned her attention back to us. ‘You couldn’t just leave, could you?’

  ‘You gave me the address at the edge of the village, so you could get the drones in place.' I indicated behind me with my head at the two morons. I heard them stiffen but no blow to my skull arrived.

  ‘Everyone else that has seen the drone-generated pirates has run away terrified. What makes you so special that you walk towards them?'

  ‘I’m not stupid?’ I replied. ‘The drones have been operated by Mike and Ralph. They were both employed by Edington to help you keep people off the streets at night.’ She had stiffened when I mentioned Edington. ‘Did you really think no one would work it out?’ I paused and looked around the room. ‘What shocks me is that you managed to keep it all so secret that not even your Mother knows.’

  ‘What are you talking about, man?’ chirped up Gretchen. ‘I have been running this from the start. Tilda and I dreamed it all up.’

  ‘Yeah, and who the hell is Edington?’ asked Tilda.

  ‘Yeah.’ Echoed John.

  I looked around the room.

  ‘Actually, I'm afraid you didn't dream it up. Any of it. You invested in property, businesses, real estate and land once Tilda learned that Julien Hogg was going to open a hotel on the cliffs above you and charter cruise ships into the harbour. Then, when he changed his mind you found that you had borrowed yourselves into enormous debt and the land and property was worthless. With no tourists to sell to all year round, this is just another sleepy Cornish fishing village that no one ever comes to. You needed to get your money back, so you set out to make the village more desirable. Tilda started pinning warning notes to houses and properties that were less than perfect and you waged a campaign against anyone who was not white because you are racists.' Neither woman protested. ‘Where did the pirate idea come from though? Was it John? He worked on the set of The Pirates of Penzance in the West End as a make-up artist. He said he was good enough to turn himself and Edington into fake dead pirates, didn't he? Did you really think that no one would spot that? Where did he get the idea from though?'

  I looked at John. Involuntarily he glanced at his sister. Everyone saw it.

  ‘So, Gret
chen you concocted the ghostly pirates and set out to enact your plan. Did you set out to just scare people away or did you think you could attract tourists with the rumour of ghosts haunting the village? You got ambitious because the ghosts worked so well and decided to use the pirates to scare off some of the less desirable residents. People whose property was in need of renovation, the Indian family with their restaurant, the smell from which failed to evoke the traditional smell of Cornwall. How you came to your plan doesn't matter actually Gretchen because the idea was never yours.' I had been staring at Roberta the whole time I was speaking.

  I turned now to face to Gretchen and Tilda. ‘Think about the timing of it ladies. How soon after Gary Wainwright found gold coins on the beach did the idea of the ghosts come about?’

  They looked at each other, their faces a mask of confusion.

  ‘Enough stalling.’ Snapped Roberta. ‘It’s time to clean up this mess. Get rid of these three and get back to business.’

  I spun to face her now. ‘Why did you kill your uncle?’

  Dad nudged my arm. ‘Look at Tilda, son.’

  Tilda's face was a mask of pure rage. ‘What does he mean, Roberta?'

  I ignored the question. ‘Did he see you coming out of the house? I understand he liked to visit other lady’s houses at night. Isn’t that right, Tilda? He could easily have spotted you exiting the house on Heavitree Road. Were you carrying gold down to the beach at the time? Or, was it something else that tipped him off?’

  ‘You killed my Philip?’ Tilda growled.

  ‘What was that about gold, Roberta?' Asked Gretchen.

  Next with a question was John, ‘What does he mean the property deal fell through, Mum? You said we were going to be rich.’

  ‘You killed my Philip!' roared Tilda, this time abandoning Gretchen and running at Roberta, arms outstretched and ready to kill.

  Roberta took a step back and swung the shotgun from me to her Aunt. Tilda ignored it though, whether by calculation that her Niece would not shoot or through the blindness of her rage, she bowled into the smaller woman, knocking her over and grabbing for the shotgun.

  Thirty-Three reversed the gun he was holding and whacked Tilda in the side of her head with the butt end. She dropped like a stone.

  ‘That's quite enough of that.' He said, his voice no longer the slow slurring voice of a moron, but one that enunciated clearly in a clipped British tone. With one meaty hand, he reached down, grabbed Roberta by the hair and pulled her from the floor. He pressed the shotgun to her neck. ‘Anyone moves, and I blow her head clean off.'

  ‘Go for it.’ I instructed.

  ‘No!’ shrieked Gretchen.

  ‘What are you doing Thirty-Three?' asked John, utter bewilderment on his face.

  Briefly taking the shotgun away from Roberta's neck, he swung it backhanded into John's face. A spray of blood shot from his nose as he toppled backward. The shotgun John had been holding went skittering off into the shadows.

  ‘Now?’ whispered my Dad.

  I shook my head. ‘Everyone, I would like you to meet the brains behind the crimes being committed.’ I locked eyes with Thirty-Three.

  ‘You must be kidding.’ Laughed Gretchen. ‘He couldn’t outwit a piece of toast.’

  ‘Actually, Gretchen, Edington has a Ph.D. in maritime history and he was a Commander in the Royal Navy. That was where he met Roberta. Isn't that right Edington?'

  He remained silent, the shotgun still pressed to Roberta’s throat in the pretence that he might use it. I gave him a few seconds to speak, then pressed on with my own explanation.

  ‘It was you that dropped the coins, wasn't it? An accident. A rip in a bag or something. Until then it was all going smoothly. Suddenly the secret you were keeping, that you had found the treasure, was out. You needed to throw people off the scent. So, your accomplice helped you create the ghosts and the ghost ship so that you could divert attention away from the village and have the treasure hunters all looking for it in the sea instead. The ghosts were to keep people off the streets so that you could continue to sneak the treasure out to your yacht at night. It is a nice yacht by the way. Caribbean Dream? Did you name it? Or was it on the yacht when you bought it. I'm sorry, I don't know how the yacht name registration thing works.' His face was becoming thunderous. I knew too much. I pressed on. 'How many houses did you search looking for where the pirates buried the treasure all those years ago? Did you anticipate that you would have to play the idiotic Thirty-Three for this long?'

  Next to Edington, John began to rouse. The blow to his face had knocked him out briefly.

  ‘Is any of this true?’ Gretchen asked her daughter.

  ‘Go on, Roberta. Tell her.' I goaded. Roberta was continuing the pretence that she was being held prisoner. I turned to look behind me. I was bored with being on my knees, but the two drone pilots still had their shotguns trained on my Dad and me.

  ‘Of course, Edington isn't your real name either, is it? He looked uncomfortable for the first time. ‘It threw me for a while. Edington Hungerford. Edington is a village outside Hungerford. I had two very sharp ladies working on it today. Once I worked out that I could not find you anywhere because the name was made up, it was not difficult to track you down.' I turned to Gretchen again. ‘Gretchen, I have the dubious pleasure of introducing you to Cameron Lake. Your son-in-law.'

  ‘What?’ Gretchen shrieked.

  Now Cameron’s face looked ready to murder.

  ‘I told you not to trust her.’ Yelled my Mother triumphantly.

  ‘Now?’ whispered my father.

  ‘Almost.’ My whispered reply.

  ‘What kind of man sends his wife to sleep with another man?’ I asked loudly. ‘Twice, Cameron. Just to keep me distracted. Wouldn’t it have been easier to have killed me?’

  ‘I tried.’ Replied Roberta. ‘You have a surprisingly hard skull, Tempest.’ she pushed the shotgun away from her neck, finally accepting that no one was buying the ruse anymore. ‘I would have finished you off, but I was spotted so I had to drag you into my house and tend to you instead.’

  ‘Roberta, what are you saying? Did you kill Philip? Is Thirty-Three your husband?’

  ‘Oh, shut up, you ridiculous woman. His name is Cameron. He is the most brilliant man I have ever met, and we are on the cusp of being ridiculously rich. Philip tried to blackmail me. That is why he is dead.’

  ‘But your Mother and your Aunt and your brother have an important role to play in this, don’t they, Roberta?’

  ‘What does he mean?’ Gretchen asked.

  On the floor by Roberta's feet, Tilda's eyes had opened. She was listening. Behind me, the two drone pilots were whispering to one another, quiet insistent noises that I could not make out, but they were arguing about something and thus were distracted from the task of watching my Dad and me.

  It was almost time. First though, I needed to finish the distraction. ‘How do they create the clean getaway, Gretchen?' I let the question hang in the air for a moment. ‘By leaving the Police with a neat solution to the case. I'm afraid Gretchen that your darling daughter and her husband plan to kill you and the others and make it look like you were fighting over the gold and turned on each other.'

  ‘That’s preposterous.’ Snapped Roberta with a derisory laugh.

  ‘Then why did you plant gold at the pub?’

  Roberta's mouth hung open. It had been a bluff on my part to turn Gretchen, John, and Tilda against her, but somehow, I had it right.

  ‘I expect it has been found by now. I was worried that your call for back up might not have got through, so I called the Police as well. Just in case, you know.'

  ‘You bastard!’ she screamed. Then she was running at me, but Gretchen moved to intercept her.

  ‘Now?’ asked my Dad.

  ‘Yup, now.’ As I said the words I was already moving, coming around to grab the shotgun behind me and push its barrels away. As I grabbed the steel it went off, the noise deafening in the close confines. Despite
the instant heat transferring to my hands I ripped it from the lighter man’s grip and swung it around in a backhand arc. My father had managed to get off the floor, but his knees were as old as the rest of him, his reactions slower than mine and he was locked in a death grip with Ralph who had been stood behind him.

  The stock of the shotgun in my grip hit Ralph full in his mouth, knocking him backward and taking all the fight out of him. He dropped to the floor, leaving my father holding the shotgun. My Dad and I locked eyes for a second but there was no time to talk.

  One drone pilot was down, and the other had scarpered. That left Tilda, Gretchen, Roberta, John, and Cameron to deal with. I spun to face them. ‘Get Mum.' I yelled as I slapped Dad on his shoulder. He needed no further motivation. I had hoped the damned Police would have found us by now, but they hadn't, so my sole aim was to get my family safe. They could pick up Roberta, Cameron and all the others later. I would have given the Police a location to find us at but when I had called them I had no idea where we would be by the time they arrived.

  Cameron was gone. Tilda and John were still down, and Roberta was fighting her Mother. And she was losing. As I watched, glancing across to see my father get to my Mother and start untying her, I saw Gretchen punch her daughter in the mouth. Roberta tumbled backward. I watched no more.

  ‘I told you not to trust her.’ said my Mother yet again. She was free now and being led out of the shed by my father.

  ‘Come on, boy.' He called to me with urgency, his right arm around his wife. In his left hand, he had the lobster pot with my dogs in. They were staring through the gaps at me. To hell with Roberta and the others. I was on holiday with my family and this case was solved.

  I dropped the shotgun I was holding. It was empty anyway and I walked out the door after my parents. I had a fleeting fantasy about a cold pint at the pub then realised the improbability of that happening. There was another pub in the village that I had not yet been in, so I guess we were going there if there was going to be a drink tonight.

  ‘Mr. Michaels.' A shrill voice called my name. It was the Superintendent. She was running down the path that led to the fishermen's shacks with half a dozen armed officers. The Officers trained their guns on all three of us. Dad was still holding the shotgun he had taken which was bound to make them nervous.