by steve higgs
‘Tempest, might I ask you what is happening please?’ she had learned some manners since our last meeting.
‘Good evening, Rebecca. Perhaps you would like to accompany the Superintendent and me. The master criminal is trapped not far from here in the basement of a house where pirates buried treasure many hundreds of years ago. If you want a fantastic exclusive for the ten o'clock news, then this is it.' As I said it, I wondered if her face might not make it right around the world. The treasure story was quite something.
‘You will give me all of that?’ her voice full of barely suppressed awe and excitement.
‘And more. I have a lady that was kidnapped for stumbling across the conspiracy earlier today. I believe she will be only too pleased to give you her story. There are layers here Rebecca. A week’s worth of stories.’
‘I may want to have your babies.’ She squealed.
We were nearing the house on Heavitree Road once more. The dogs were being very good about me failing to feed them. Perhaps I would give them something special for their dinner tonight. Rebecca had positioned herself in front of me, walking in reverse, the camera trained on me, the Superintendent, Sgt Andrews and the other Officers behind us.
‘Hold on.’ Said the Superintendent, a thought occurring to her. ‘I have a question. I saw the ghost ship for myself. How was this man managing to make that appear at will? It looked so convincing.’
‘Tethered alongside his yacht is a submersible. On it is fitted a huge sheet of Perspex, behind which is a projector of some kind. I believe the submersible to be remotely controlled. The projector sends an image of the ghost ship to the Perspex screen and he can make the ship rise from the waves and vanish again at will. Doubtless, it is more complex than that or works slightly differently to how I have described, but I looked at it today and that is my best guess. Your tech chaps can work it out for themselves once they impound it.'
Inside the House on Heavitree Lane. Thursday, November 3rd 2034hrs
Cameron had recovered from his kick in the spuds but was still stuck down his hole. He had some choice threats to make about my future when they dragged him out and handcuffed him. I paid him no mind.
The ladder that I had used to defend myself was used to gain access to the hole again so that the Superintendent could inspect the basement for herself. I followed her down. Inside was lit by mains powered lamps that branched off from the cable I had seen coming into the hole. Had this originally been a smuggler's hold carved into the floor of the house to keep goods away from excise men? A memory of reading Daphne Du Maurier's Jamaica Inn as a schoolboy told me that sort of thing went on continually a few centuries ago. Regardless of its original purpose, the pirates had brought the treasure to shore, probably killed the people that lived in the house and had hidden everything they could carry in this hole in the ground. Had they then backfilled it to bury it? Had they had time? Had someone else done it? Someone like the Captain of HMS Cruelty. Bury the treasure, pay off a few local officials and the men you employed to do the work and come back for it later. Then something happened, an untimely death perhaps and the treasure remained where it was. Forgotten for generations until one man, one determined man tracked it down. Had Cameron Lake made his discovery public he would have been famous, and his reward would have made him quite rich enough. But then the greedy are never rich enough, are they?
The space he had dug out was large enough to be called a room. I called back up to Rebecca that she should grab a camera and come down. There was room for one more. The work of excavating the space must have been backbreaking. He had erected timbers to shore up where he was digging out. There might have been some original timbers in here that had long since rotted away and it was clear that whatever the treasure had been brought ashore in had also rotted away as there were gold coins just spilling onto the floor from the dirt of the walls.
‘My God.' Rebecca whispered breathlessly. She reigned in her composure then and turned the camera to herself. As I moved away, I could hear her begin reporting what she was seeing. As she began jabbering away, I heard one of my dogs whine from the room above me. I was done here.
I climbed up the ladder, telling the Superintendent that I needed to eat and needed to feed my dogs and where she would be able to find me this evening. She said I was free to go, but honestly, I would have liked to have seen anyone try to stop me.
I picked the two dopey dachshunds up and carried them out to the street, kissing them both on top of their heads as we went.
Around the corner, I knew there was a fish and chip shop. I had not gone far when I caught the first smell coming from it. My stomach gave a groan.
‘You can’t come in here looking like that.’ The lady behind the counter snapped.
I looked down at myself. I looked like a homeless person. Dirt, blood, and goodness knows what else had stained and marked my clothing. I turned to check myself in the reflection of the glass door. My hair was a mess and I had dirt on my face as well.
‘I just want a fish and chips.’ I implored. ‘I have money.’ I added just in case she did think I was homeless.
‘I don’t care.’ This is a clean establishment. People expect hygiene where they buy their food.
A hand clapped me on the shoulder. I turned to find the three men left over from Gina’s crew. I really didn’t have the energy for another fight right now but doubted I would get a choice in the matter.
‘Thanks for what you did for Matt.’ The nearest man said. I raised an eyebrow. I thought his name was Ivan. I couldn’t remember.
‘Sorry about giving you grief this week.’ Danny piped up. ‘Can we get you something from the shop?’ he offered.
This was better than finding treasure. I thanked them and asked for a large fish and chips, open with lots of salt and vinegar. I offered them money to pay for it, but they insisted it was on them.
I fell onto the hot food hungrily when they brought it out of the shop, the woman inside scowling at me through the glass. Just to be contrary I sat on the floor to share it with the dogs right outside her shop door. I thanked the guys as they walked away and almost lost a finger because I was watching them and not what the Dachshunds were doing.
The large portion was plenty to fill all three of us. Satisfied, I clawed myself back to a standing position. I still wanted a cold drink and it had been an hour since I sent my parents to the pub without me. I hoped they were not worried about me.
They were not as it turned out because Rebecca Franks had already found them. It was my first time inside The Star Inn, I got a few looks as I came through the door, but no one tried to stop me from joining my family.
Dad was keeping quiet while Rebecca Franks, the professional journalist, was trying to get a word in edgeways with my Mother. He spotted me, jumped up and came to shake my hand.
‘Okay, kid?’ he asked, taking in the obvious wound to my side.
‘It’s fine. No big deal.’
‘Cold one?’
‘Damned right.’
The End
Or is it?
Postscript
I plugged in my phone to charge and lay my head down to sleep. I was bone tired. The phone did nothing for a second or so, but just as I was closing my eyes it sprung to life with incoming messages all coming at once now that I had given it some energy.
I reached across to look at the screen, just to check.
Seven missed calls from Big Ben. Four missed calls from Amanda and finally a text message from Jane.
The text message read:
Boss, I think Amanda and Patience have been taken by the Voodoo priest. Big Ben went to investigate, and I have not heard from him since. That was hours ago. Call me when you get this.
I called Jane’s number. No answer.
I sat up in bed suddenly sober and awake. I called Big Ben. It went straight to voicemail:
‘Hey there, you have reached the voicemail of Big Ben. If you are a girl just leave your number after the tone along with your ad
dress, get naked and wait for me. I will not be long. If this is a dude calling, then take it easy and try to not feel too bad when your girlfriend sleeps with me.’
I didn't bother to leave a message. I tried Amanda and got no answer from her either. I had no number for Patience and I was getting angry, my ire rising due to frustration. Still sat on the edge of the fold-out bed I tried to quickly review my options.
I didn’t appear to have any. My friends were in trouble somewhere. It did not matter that I was tired, or that I was sore from fighting this evening. It did not matter that it would take me hours to get back to Kent and that I had no idea where they were. I had to go.
I started packing my bags, shoving my things in as quickly as I could. I was leaving right now. I would call my parents from the car. They were still at the pub, so unless I bumped into them as I was going, they would return to the room and wonder where I was. They were enjoying their break and they could not help with my latest problem. I would not even tell them about it.
‘Come on, dogs.’ I called as I opened the door and stepped outside.
They both hopped off the bed. We were off for another adventure and they were my willing wingmen. With the two small dogs scampering along behind me, I headed once more into the dark and an uncertain future.
The End
In the Doodoo
In the Doodoo
with Voodoo
Blue Moon Investigations
Book 6
Steve Higgs
Text Copyright © 2018 Steven J Higgs
Publisher: Steve Higgs
The right of Steve Higgs to be identified as author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved.
The book is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
‘In the Doodoo with Voodoo’ is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead or undead, events or locations is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
I wish to take this brief opportunity to thank some of the people that allow these books to come into existence. First of all, and none too surprisingly I have to thank my wife for putting up with me disturbing her sleep as I roll out of bed all too early most mornings to start pounding the keyboard once again. I wish to also thank my two-year-old son for not drawing on my notes too often and for not accidentally pouring his milk into my laptop. There are others involved in this process because I cannot make the cover art by myself – I am just not artistic enough, so thank you to Jacqueline Sweet, but most especially I wish to thank all the slightly odd people that believe the paranormal world exists. Without you I would have no fuel for the stories I write.
Table of contents
Last shift. Sunday, October 30th 1156hrs
A New Case. Sunday, October 30th 1643hrs
The Magdalene Estate. Sunday, October 30th 2052hrs
Annoying Young Men. Sunday, October 30th 2157hrs
Where Do We Work Now? Monday, October 31st 0640hrs
Maidstone Police Station. Monday, October 31st 1006hrs
The Home of a Voodoo Priest. Monday, October 31st 1051hrs
Not What I Expected. Monday, October 31st 1223hrs
Not the Best Day Ever. Monday, October 31st 1257hrs
My House. Monday, October 31st 1312hrs
Lily Hallett. Monday, October 31st 1404hrs
How Hard can it be to Buy Condoms? Monday, October 31st 1547hrs
Halloween. Monday, October 31st 1732hrs
Who Sleeps Where? Monday, October 31st 1945hrs
Snakes Alive! Tuesday, November 1st 0700hrs
Crazy Dates and Safety Words. Tuesday, November 1st 1027hrs
Burgers for Breakfast. Tuesday, November 1st 1112hrs
Kimberly's House. Tuesday, November 1st 1257hrs
Maidstone Police Station. Tuesday, November 1st 1412hrs
Arresting Bartholomew. Monday, November 1st 1541hrs
Administration. Tuesday, November 1st 1804hrs
Sleeping with Friends. Wednesday, November 2nd 0722hrs
Investigating a Ghost on a Ghost Tour. Wednesday, November 2nd 0934hrs
Where is Patience? Wednesday, November 2nd 1116hrs
Ghost Tours my Backside. Wednesday, November 2nd 1403hrs
Interesting News. Wednesday, November 2nd 1803hrs
Preparing for Jane’s Date. Wednesday, November 2nd 1920hrs
Jane's Date. Wednesday, November 2nd 2000hrs
After Jane's Date. Wednesday, November 2nd 2209hrs
Surveillance. Thursday, November 3rd 0730hrs
Terrance and Trevor. Thursday, November 3rd 1032hrs
The House on the Green, Bearsted. Thursday, November 3rd 1121hrs
Wonderful Diversity. Thursday, November 3rd (I Hope) No Idea What Time It Is.
Press Conference. Friday, 4th November 0245hrs
Sleep. Friday, November 4th 0315hrs
Guys and Dolls. A Blue Moon Short Story
Last shift. Sunday, October 30th 1156hrs
I hated running. I was sure I shouldn’t have to run this much as a Police Officer. Surely when I shout for a criminal to stop running, they should stop. This guy hadn’t read the rules though, so he was tearing down Week Street in Maidstone with no intention of slowing down.
He was just a petty pickpocket, one of a gang that had been targeting Maidstone town centre recently, snatching purses and pilfering wallets. Or lifting people's shopping bags when they were not looking. There was always a crime being committed in Maidstone town centre, it was just that kind of town where people with money mixed with those that did not and certain elements tried to even the balance.
I had been posted in plain clothes to observe and ultimately find the gang. Basically, I had been sent window shopping for the day with a side order of try to pay attention to what is going on around you. It was my very last shift with the Police. I had quit several weeks ago when I finally admitted to myself that my career was not going anywhere and after I met Tempest Michaels, a local self-employed paranormal investigator. I asked him for a job and he signed me up right then and there. Now I worked for him, but I still have a week of notice left with the Police, so I was kinda working two jobs simultaneously.
I had been sipping a salted caramel hot chocolate and telling myself that ordering it skinny meant it was really low in calories when right in front of me the dopey looking kid with the spots and the dreadlocks had walked up to a pram, opened a lady's handbag and pulled out her purse. He even looked up at me as he slid it into the pocket of his dirty hoody and had the audacity to wink.
I thought he was going to try me with a chat up line until I yanked out my Police ID and shouted for him to stop.
He didn't of course. Which was how I came to now be chasing the ugly, skinny little turd down Week Street towards the river. He was faster than me, but he also had his jeans on hood style, so they were flapping around his backside and threatening to fall down and trip him the whole time. He probably thought they looked cool.
I yelled into my microphone, a tiny handset hidden in my sleeve, that I was chasing a suspect and needed back up in position. There were three of us working undercover today in different parts of the town centre, but it was no so big that we could not easily coordinate between us. Uniformed Police were also never far away in Maidstone though and today two had been positioned at the top of Fremlin Walk where the confluence of roads created
a hub of sorts.
The youth had run by them almost before I could react, certainly before I could raise a warning to anyone, so my backup was essentially backing me up now by running along behind me.
Not much help.
A cyclist came out of the cut through by Earl's pub, almost knocking the dick with the dreadlocks over. He leaped over his front wheel though as the cyclist saw him at the last moment and hit his brakes. This put the damned cyclist directly in my path and I ploughed right into him, the pair of us going down to slam into the ground. Me on top of him with his surprised face jammed between my boobs.
The uniforms leaped over the mess of bike, cyclist and plain-clothes woman cop to continue the pursuit, but the pickpocket had gained valuable yards. The likelihood of him escaping though was slim. Maidstone is too open, there are no clever alleyways to duck down that would aid his evasion. His only hope would be to pick up a bike or get into a car.
No sooner had the thought left my brain, than a brand-new white Mercedes C220i AMG flew out of the gap by the Hazlitt Theatre and threw the passenger's door open. The youth was going to make it. He had too great a lead to be caught now.
Then Patience clotheslined him.
I didn’t even see where she came from. I was just picking myself up and making sure my boobs were still in my top. One second, he was home free, the next his body was spinning through the air while his head rotated about Patience’s right forearm.
Score one for the girls!
Patience was one of the other Officers placed in town to look for the pickpocket gang. We had been sent to different areas of the town to cover the most amount of territory, but she had been messaging me since we arrived to meet up and work together because she was bored and wanted to quiz me about my boyfriend Brett.
I apologised to the poor cyclist and got moving again.