by steve higgs
As the kettle began making noise, she restarted her story. ‘So, Mr. Boynes got a speeding fine through the post. His wife recognised what it was, apparently, it is not his first. Anyway, she opened the envelope and saw, clear as anything, a young woman in a dress sitting in the back of her husband's car. She went nuts, as you might imagine, and accused him of having an affair.' Amanda produced a folder from her handbag, opened it, then handed me a photograph. It was the usual DVLA issue polaroid style photograph. It was not of great quality, but the woman, and more importantly her face, could be clearly seen.
‘Did he hire us or did she?’ I asked.
‘He did. He wants us to prove to his wife that what she is seeing is a ghost. Gave me a fat advance too.’ Amanda said, producing a wad of cash in a white envelope.
‘I guess he is staring a costly divorce in the face otherwise. Did you explain to him that we spend all our time proving that ghosts don’t exist?’
Amanda chuckled, ‘I sure did. He didn’t seem inclined to listen. He felt that if we could prove that ghosts don’t exist, it should be easy to show that this one does. He had already done some research, so he knew that Bluebell Hill is recorded as one of the most haunted places in Britain.’
‘Two seconds on google will show you that.’ I added.
‘Exactly, but he seemed to want to pay us to perform an investigation and come back to him with a pile of evidence that would suggest that he is not the first man to have found a strange woman in the back of his car on Bluebell Hill.’
I sipped my tea and remembered my manners, ‘Would you like a biscuit?’
‘No, thank you. I had better not.' I didn't press the matter, but I believed she could eat a biscuit if she wanted to. Her figure was perfect. Perhaps though that was because she avoided the biscuits.
‘What is your early conclusion then?' I asked her. I was making conversation more than anything else. Just then the door handle turned again. I looked up and Amanda looked over her shoulder. The easily identifiable shape coming through the door was Big Ben.
‘Hey, Tempest. Hiya, Hotstuff.’ Big Ben pretty much refused to call Amanda by her name. He had latched onto the name I had given her when I first met her and did not know her name and now he wouldn’t let it go. I had pointed out that she had learned it was a name I had given her and thus it was embarrassing to remind either one of us. However, he was an annoying tit, so he used it deliberately.
‘Hello, Benjamin.’ Amanda replied. ‘I hear you have managed to get two different girls pregnant at the same time.’
His face fell, the smile that had been there a moment ago vanished in a heartbeat.
‘Three.’ He said.
‘Three what?’ I asked.
‘It’s three girls now. Some girl called Bianca phoned me this morning. I don’t even remember her. Her period is nineteen days late and she wanted me to know.’
Big Ben looked genuinely panicked. I had seen him go into combat looking less worried than this.
‘Well, that is a pickle.’ I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
‘Where’s the photographs and addresses?’ he asked, his voice full of resignation.
‘What are you up to, Ben?’ Amanda wanted to know.
‘Some top level, top drawer shagging.’ Normally, Big Ben’s reply would have been delivered with real gusto. Now though it was like he was accepting a chore.
Amanda rolled her eyes rather than comment and stepped to the side so that Big Ben could get to the pack I had placed on the kitchen breakfast bar for him.
‘This is not compulsory.’ I pointed out. ‘I have no reason to believe you will be able to get any information from them.’
Big Ben looked up from examining the pictures. His usual leering grin had returned. ‘Who else could you possibly send on this mission. Besides, they will tell me anything once I have given each of them the greatest orgasm any of them will ever achieve.’
‘Dear God.’ Amanda muttered.
‘It’s there for you as well, Hotstuff. You only have to ask.’ He ducked as she swatted at his head.
A noise came from my lounge and the conversation stopped as all three of us looked at each other. I called it a noise, but I should more accurately describe it as a large volume of gas being expelled from a drunk man's rectum via his anal sphincter. The fart had both volume and duration.
‘Hilary is asleep on my couch.’ I explained. ‘His wife kicked him out and he crashed here last night, refused to go to work this morning and then thought a few beers was a good idea. I am letting him sleep it off.’
Big Ben took a few steps back and to his right to peer through the doorway at him. ‘That was some good farting.’ He observed.
‘Christ.’ Said Amanda, a comment that could have meant anything, but was probably tired resignation at men judging and scaling other men’s farts.
Amanda and I joined Big Ben in the doorway. ‘Amanda?’ Big Ben started.
Amanda sighed, ‘I doubt I want to hear the question you have for me, Benjamin, let alone want to provide an answer, but go on.’
‘Do men often look that pathetic when they have had a few too many?’
‘Yes. Always.’ She replied instantly as if the answer were utterly obvious to anyone with a brain.
‘I might never drink again.’ He muttered to himself.
I was with him. Hilary looked a mess. He had one shoe on and one off. His shirt was untucked to show his skinny belly and he was half slouched, half dead-looking on the couch with a pool of drool forming on his collar.
‘His wife kicked him out?’ Big Ben asked.
‘Yes, somehow he got it into his head that he should smack her on the arse and show her who is the boss in their house.’
Big Ben’s cheeks coloured ever so slightly. ‘Well, can’t hang around. I have work to do.’ He called out as he took the pack with the pictures and addresses and went back out my front door.
I was still in my lounge with Amanda and the sleeping Hilary. He shifted slightly on the couch causing us both to turn our eyes to him. So, we were just in time to see him idly scratch his balls in his sleep and then fart again.
‘Let’s go, shall we?’ I asked as I turned toward the door and Amanda, but she was already gone.
‘Where did we get to? Amanda asked. She was back in the kitchen. We stared at each other for a moment, trying to recollect where our conversation had left off before Big Ben had arrived.
Then I thought of something, ‘Oh, I almost forgot to tell you; we have a new office.’
She had just taken a slurp of tea so raised her eyebrows for me to continue. I told her about the wonderful new building we were moving into the next day, what the increase in rent was, and what my plans were for it.
When I finished outlining my plans for the office she agreed to help me set up tomorrow instead of doing casework. We would meet there at 0900hrs and see what needed to be done. I had been inside briefly today, so I knew it needed a clean, but there was furniture inside that was now mine and all it really needed was a quick redecorate as I was not going to tolerate the large framed pictures of Nessie and UFOs that adorned the walls currently.
‘I remembered what we were talking about.’ Amanda said.
‘Hmmm?’
‘Before Big Ben showed up. We were talking and then we couldn’t remember where we got to. Well, we were talking about the Bluebell Hill hag and what I needed to do next. I need to do some research. That’s my next step. I have a hunch about what the outcome of this case will be but don’t want to jinx it yet.’
‘Understood.’ I replied. ‘Got anything planned for the evening?’ I was making conversation, being polite. It was the end of the day; the Dachshunds had wandered into the kitchen to point out that it was very nearly their appointed dinner time and Amanda would be going home soon. It was for the best. At least that was what I was telling myself.
Last week, in Cornwall, I had met another lady and engaged in some naked fun with her. She had made me forge
t Amanda and I told myself at the time that the infatuation that had plagued me since the moment I met her several weeks ago, was in fact dissipating. Then on Friday, I had seen Amanda naked. It was not a sight I could erase, it was forever printed on my brain and was why I referred to her body as utterly perfect.
I had a date with Natasha in forty-eight hours though and every right to be excited about it. I could move on and be happy if I could just convince my stupid brain that the world's most perfect partner for me wasn't already standing in my kitchen.
I sighed internally.
‘Nothing much.’ She replied. ‘I will visit the gym and get some dinner in front of the television I think.’ She was picking up her jacket and slipping her arms into it.
I showed her out and bid her a good night. As she pulled off my drive, I closed the door and went back to the kitchen where two black and tan sausage dogs were waiting impatiently for their evening meal.
Impressive. Monday, November 7th 1903hrs
It was 1903hrs when Hilary woke up. He found me in my office where I was about to look at the video footage from West Malling. He looked bewildered and wanted to take himself to bed. I convinced him to eat a sandwich and drink some milk first though. He took both upstairs with him, which gave me the option of moving to the lounge instead.
I was having a fight with my conscience about the rum and coke that I wanted to drink. It was needless, pointless calories. I knew that, but I still wanted one even though alcohol would mess with my desire to lose weight faster than anything else I could consume.
Grumpily, I got a glass of water and sat on the sofa with my laptop and two Dachshunds. The software with the cameras was easy to use, so seconds later I was scrolling through the footage looking for what I believed to be the right time. As I neared it, I slowed the playback and watched it at normal speed.
It was in colour and had quite good definition, not HD standard, but good enough to see faces in the cars. I saw Dorothy leave and then Barbara. Then car after car until I appeared around the side of the pub, walked toward the camera and reached up for it. The screen went blank.
Had the witch hidden in the pub? Had she been in the ladies’ toilet while I was looking for her? It was plausible. Disappointed, I closed the laptop and put it to one side
The rest of the evening ticked by quietly. I called and made a reservation at a Gastro Pub in the heart of West Malling. I was going to take Natasha for dinner and I was going to make her feel cherished.
I thought some more about the case but could not develop a concept for how the women were causing the deaths. I wanted to be able to prove the guilt or otherwise of the ladies, although I was already certain they were guilty. However, to do that, I would need to first prove that there had been a murder. The coroner disagreed. A singular fact which made the case far more difficult.
I would need to arrange to bump into her somewhere. I needed to find a way to open her mind to the possibility that it was something other than lightning that had killed the two men.
Bedtime came around. The dogs were both asleep with their heads on my right thigh, one beside the other. I woke them, so they could pay a final visit to the garden then trudged upstairs thinking about the new office and what it would be like to work there. It was more prominent than the pokey, little thing I had inhabited previously, and it was much, much nicer.
Drifting off to sleep, I had one of those dreams that make you jump in your sleep. The witch had thrown a lightning bolt at me, I had jumped to escape it and woken myself. I looked at the clock as I settled back onto my pillow. It was 0015hrs.
Then my phone rang. I had forgotten to turn it off. Though tempted to ignore it, I suspected the caller would just call again after it had rung off. Reluctantly I rolled over to check the screen: It was Big Ben.
‘Hey, buddy. What’s up?’ I asked blearily.
‘I’m finished. Stop the clock.’ He replied.
Groggily, I mentally scratched my head. ‘Finished what?’
‘Are you asleep already, slack arse? Real men are working, getting shit done.’
‘Yes, that’s lovely, Ben. What are you talking about though?’
He tutted. ‘You asked me to perform a task. I am on my way home and letting you know that the task is complete.’ There was some exasperation to his tone.
‘I set you a…. Hold on. Are you talking about the four ladies? Are you calling to tell me that you have shagged them all already?’
‘Yeah. Took longer than I thought. That Barbara, she has got some energy. I tell you when she said she wanted to…’
‘NO!' I cut him off. The ladies in question were not unattractive, nor were they old, although they were all in the fifties, despite that, I did not need Big Ben filling my head with graphical images of his activities with them. ‘How is it that you have shagged four middle-aged women in the space of six hours?'
‘I’m not sure what you are asking. How did I manage to seduce and bed four women? Or how well did I stick it to them i.e. quality of shag? Because if you are asking the latter then the answer is that you will not need to worry about following any of them tomorrow because they will not be able to walk. If you are asking about how I seduced them all so quickly, then I would have to ask if you have ever met me?’
He was such a dick.
‘Look, I'm kinda tired now. Four women in one evening does take it out of a guy. I'll come by the house tomorrow.'
'I'm moving to a new office tomorrow.' I told him about the place in Rochester High Street. He knew where it was.
‘Okay, so I’ll come by the new office around noon. I need some sleep first. I learned some stuff, but it can wait until then, right?’
‘Yup.’
‘Cool.’ He disconnected.
Big Ben had shagged four women tonight while the closest I had got to some action was when I got an itch on my left nut and had to scratch it.
Disgruntled, I turned over and went back to sleep.
Moving Day. Tuesday, November 8th 0900hrs
My morning ritual of getting up early to exercise went to plan, as yet again I made it to the gym. Just a few days into the routine I was already feeling lighter or thinner or possibly just less bloated. Inspecting my waistline in the mirror between sets, I told myself that Natasha would not care if I was carrying a few extra pounds. I held the belief that most people are not that critical. They don’t expect perfection and are far more critical of their own bodies than they are of their partner’s. Maybe I was completely wrong about it, but I could not see me caring if Natasha was carrying a little cellulite on her legs or bottom. She had a fantastic figure, that was what I knew.
With great big boobies!
Mr. Wriggly had his priorities and they differed quite significantly from mine.
When I arrived home, Hilary was sitting looking miserable at the breakfast bar. His head was supported by his left hand while his right was cradling a cooling cup of coffee.
‘Sore head?’ I asked rhetorically.
His eyes managed to move upwards from the counter he had been staring brainlessly at, but the rest of his body remained motionless until he spoke. ‘My life is ruined.’ He announced.
I put my gym bag down, took milk from the fridge to make myself a power shake and sat down opposite him. ‘This is the first time you have ever had a proper relationship drama, isn't it?'
He nodded solemnly. ‘Anthea is…’ he struggled for the right words. ‘I have only ever slept with two women.’ This was a somewhat startling revelation until I gave it a moment’s thought. Hilary had been married for fifteen years and was in his mid-thirties so had married young. He was also not the sort of chap that inspired women to take their knickers off – kind of a polar opposite to Big Ben if you will. ‘Anthea is everything to me. I don’t know how to live without her.’
‘Okay, mate, it’s tough love time.’
He looked up at me, making eye contact for the first time because the tone of my voice was no longer soothing.
&nbs
p; ‘I doubt that you and Anthea are done. You have been married a long time and have children together. You pissed her off, but you didn't commit a cardinal sin like getting caught in bed with her sister or anything, so it seems like a recoverable position. Whether this gets fixed or not may depend on whether you get off your arse and fix it. Get some gumption, decide what you want and find a way to get it. Go and win her back if that is what you want. When whining about it though, keep in mind that absolutely everyone else on the planet has had the pain of a failed relationship and each of them feels that their pain is worse than anyone else's. If you whine, no one will listen. So, sleep off your hangover and get your life back. Okay?'
He looked more miserable than ever. They were stern words, but I felt he needed a reality check.
‘Serious talk over. Want some breakfast?' I asked as I got up and moved to the blender.
I let Hilary stew for a few minutes. Just before I felt the need to prompt a response from him, he thanked me for helping him and for not coddling him. He would be fine. I gave him more coffee, strong and black, and left him with bacon, eggs, and bread on the counter for him to turn into breakfast when he was ready.
Half an hour later, I was going out the door. I took the dogs to work with me. I would not have customers there today and I might get caught up in what I was doing and be late for lunch. Taking them with me made it easier. Somehow, I had packed all the computer gear, printers, whiteboard, and other paraphernalia into my car and James's Ford Fiesta. He had arrived at 0830hrs to help load it all up.
At 0900hrs we were just pulling into the parking spaces that were located at the back of the new office. It was all very new and exciting. Amanda’s Mini Cooper was already parked in one of the spots. Her car door opened as I put my handbrake on.
‘Hey, guys.' She said as she stood up. ‘I got coffee.'
Marvellous.
There was a back door into the offices which was right in front of our cars. Like a kid at Christmas, and with the dogs buzzing around my feet, I found the right key and got the door open. It was a little stiff, but I could come back to fix that later. We all went inside, the dogs vanishing in the shadows until I found the light switches. The back door led into a corridor from which a utility room that had nothing in it and a small kitchen could be accessed. They were on the right as we made our way forward. The dogs had reached a door on the left and were looking between it and me expectantly. I turned the handle and pushed it open. On the other side was the main office, an open plan space with a reception desk and a seating area. To our right, at the back of the office, if one considered the High Street entrance to be the front, there were two offices. Neither big nor small, they were large enough to house a desk and an office chair plus two other chairs for visitors to sit on.