The Phantom of Barker Mill

by steve higgs

Asleep on a brown, corduroy armchair was an elderly gentleman that I was certain would introduce himself as Old Sam. There were a few wisps of white hair left on his head and liver spots adorning his pate and hands. If I had to guess his age, it would be over eighty. He was wearing a pair of Barker Steel overalls.

  ‘Old Sam!' yelled Ronald from right next to me, making me jump. Old Sam didn't twitch. ‘He's getting on now.' Ronald said. ‘He should probably retire but Mr. Barker, the previous Mr. Barker that is, never once suggested that he should, so Old Sam just kept on turning up for work each day. He was my shift supervisor when I started in 1965. I was fifteen then, we started younger in those days and he had been here a decade already.' Ronald crossed the room and gave Old Sam's arm a shake which brought the chap out of his slumber and back to blearily blinking consciousness.

  ‘What?' Old Sam wiped some drool from his mouth. ‘What do you want, Ron?'

  ‘This fella is here to investigate the Phantom, Sam. Mrs. Barker sent him.' Old Sam stared at me, taking me in. Sizing me up perhaps.

  ‘Another one?' asked Old Sam. ‘We only just had an investigation.'

  ‘The last investigation was in the seventies, Sam.' replied Ronald with some exasperation in his voice. ‘Look, never mind that. Tell Mr. Michaels about the Phantom.'

  Ronald sat himself down in the chair adjacent to Old Sam, so I took this as a cue and took a seat myself. Old Sam levered himself up so that he was sat straight in his chair, wiped his chops again, scratched his head and said, ‘Okay, Ron. Okay.'

  For the next thirty minutes, I listened patiently while the two gentlemen regaled me with various tales about the Phantom. Both had joined the Mill because that was what everyone in the local area did. They both had family members or friends that already worked there, so had second-hand stories to tell that they had heard from the previous generation. In Old Sam's case, his grandfather had also worked at the Mill and had been one of those employed when it first opened. The Phantom was deemed to be responsible for dozens of acts over the last hundred years. Some events were mere pranks where light bulbs would be taken from an area causing the night shift to have to shut down, but in most cases, the Phantom attack was more serious, often leading to machinery damage, injuries and in two different instances the death of a worker or workers. The Phantom had been seen on several occasions. I remembered the photograph I had found during my initial internet search earlier this afternoon. On each occasion, the Phantom was described as a cloaked figure that moved silently, had glowing eyes and vanished at will whenever anyone tried to follow it.

  ‘I saw it myself.' Old Sam confided at one point, leaning right in to make and hold eye contact so that I knew he meant it. ‘It was in the rafters above A furnace.' As I watched, his eyes went up and right indicating he was engaging the memory portion of his brain. Had they gone up and left he would have been engaging his imagination which would have told me he was making it up. ‘It was July 5th, 1954. It was Friday afternoon and we were close to the end of the shift. The crew was making the last steel of the shift and I could almost taste the beer at the working men's club. Barry and me. That's Barry Dunford I mean, well we were hoping to court these two girls, Margaret Miller, that's the shift supervisor's daughter and Susie Watts. Susie, well she had a small mole on her left hip…'

  ‘Sam.’ Interrupted Ronald ‘The Phantom?’

  ‘Oh yeah. Where was I? Well, I was a new lad at the time and still learning, so I was being taught about the degassing rig at the time. Suddenly everyone was running, and I thought they were playing some kind of trick on me. I was left at the degassing rig because someone had to stay and everyone else ran off because there were injured people, although I did not know that at the time.'

  As I listened, I could feel myself being pulled into the story. If he was making it up he was doing a convincing job. I interrupted him a couple of times to ask a question. I have learned that people making things up cannot suddenly add tiny details and it exposes the lie. Old Sam though was recalling the story from memory, including seeing the Phantom and following it. He explained how he had left the degassing rig and climbed up into the rafters and how he had burned his fingers on the handprint the Phantom left.

  ‘That was a scary moment I can tell you.’ he concluded, then slumped back into his chair as if retelling the story had exhausted him.

  I had been making notes throughout and had already formed several theories. I was certain of course that there was no Phantom, but it also seemed likely that Old Sam had seen something. I also had a feeling that he was holding something back, that there was a vital element of the story he had not shared with me.

  ‘What do you think caused the walkway to fall, Sam?’

  ‘It was the Phantom.’ He looked at me with worried eyes when he said it.

  ‘Is that what everyone thought at the time? That it was the Phantom and not some unfortunate industrial accident?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh no, Mr. Michaels. The fixings had been sawn right through. It was the handy work of the Phantom and no mistake. The handprint on the wall told us clearly enough but they wasted their time on a full investigation anyway.' He trailed off again.

  ‘Tell me then, please. What do you think the Phantom is?’ I was thoroughly curious to hear his answer.

  ‘Well, I don’t rightly know what to believe, sir. Some say it is a restless spirit of a worker killed when the Mill was being built. He is trapped here because he fell into the concrete foundations and is still there to this day.’

  Ronald chipped in then, ‘I heard it was the original Mr. Barker's business partner and that Mr. Barker murdered him rather than share the Mill. Now he haunts us all.'

  I noted their theories then swung the conversation in a new direction and back to a question I had already asked. ‘Ronald, I asked you earlier about the new Mr. Barker. You declined to answer at the time, but I feel you have an opinion you would like to share.' I left him to answer. Mrs. Barker had basically accused the man of murder. I felt it entirely possible she would be right, but I wanted to build up a picture and reach a conclusion based on facts.

  The two men glanced at each other for a moment before Ronald spoke. ‘I'll say this, Mr. Michaels, the new owner wants rid of us older chaps. I don't think we have long left here with him in charge.'

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘He wants to sell the Mill, Mr. Michaels. That's what I hear anyway.'

  Old Sam took up the discussion. ‘My granddaughter Kerry works in the top corridor - puzzle palace I calls it. Well, she overhears things and once she overheard the new Mr. Barker and the old Mr. Barker shouting in the owner's office. New Mr. Barker was quite vocal about how old the workforce is, how old and broken down the equipment is, how the Mill makes very little profit. Kerry told me that he also said it was about time the old Mr. Barker got out of the way so that the new Mr. Barker could bring about some long overdue change.' Old Sam sat back in the chair as he fell silent.

  Ronald put a steadying hand on Old Sam's shoulder in support and turned his face to me. ‘Perhaps the Phantom will get him, Mr. Michaels.' The way he said it sounded like a suggestion or a prediction like it was something that could come to pass if he just wished hard enough for it. A brief chill passed down my spine and I snapped my notebook shut to break the moment.

  ‘Gentlemen, I must thank you for your time, it has been invaluable.' I had taken a lot in over the last couple of hours and now needed to sift through my notes, write down my thoughts and start my investigation proper. I would need to come back to the Mill undoubtedly, but my watch told me the time was 1847hrs, so I had kept Ronald way past his allotted finishing time and it was time to let him go. ‘Would you be so kind as to escort me back to reception, Ronald?' I indicated about the room, ‘I have become somewhat disoriented.'

  ‘Of course, sir. I would not want you wandering around the Mill unaccompanied anyway. Some fool was in by B Furnace earlier this afternoon actually, just before you arrived in fact. That's why I was late meeting you.
I went looking for him. The boys said the idiot was wandering around with a clipboard and a hat that said HSE.'

  My cheeks wanted to colour, so I focused on not letting them. If Ronald knew it had been me he gave no indication, but I made a mental note to reconsider the HSE disguise.

  We bid Old Sam good evening and set off on a winding route back to reception. It was a good thing I had Ronald as a guide as I would otherwise have needed to find the Thames just, so I could orientate myself.

  Ten minutes later Ronald had me back at reception where I gave him a business card and asked him to call me if he thought of anything I might need to know. He headed off to his car and I went to mine at the far end of the car park where I had left it.

  My House Thursday 7th October 2015hrs

  The drive home had been swift and painless. The traffic out of Dartford had already peaked and was dwindling by the time I joined it so that I got home in less than half the time it had taken me to get there. To fill the time though, I went back over the events of the last few hours. Mrs. Barker seemed genuine in her belief that her husband had been murdered and in her grief. It was something of an odd case for me because I was not actually investigating the Phantom, I was looking into whether her husband had died of natural causes. The Phantom felt like nothing more than a red herring at this point. Still, since the paranormal is codswallop this case had precisely the same amount of it as any other I took on. Unintentionally, I found myself thinking about Amanda's role in the forthcoming investigation, how I would deploy her and how much time we would spend together. This inevitably led to me consider whether our time together would yield any kind of romance between us. I saw it happen all the time on TV cop shows, inevitable sparks between the two sexy detectives. The more reasonable part of my brain assured me this was pure fantasy though. Not only that, the continuing desperate hope that I could win Amanda's heart would torture me as she dated other men oblivious to my feelings. The option to tell her how I felt had two alternate endings. She runs into my arms or the far more likely version where it all becomes very awkward and weird and we cannot work together. The logical course of action, I assured myself was to pursue someone else. Hayley at the coffee shop, Natasha at the pub, Poison in the bookshop. All had suggested I was on their list of things to do. Poison and Hayley especially. I continued to ponder my options for the rest of the drive, slowly convincing myself that I would be less distracted by thoughts of Amanda if I were finally getting some action elsewhere. Typically, though, I had not arrived at a decision by the time I got home and started my evening routine.

  It was well after dinner time as far as the dogs were concerned, so they fell hungrily into their kibble before I could put it on the floor. They were now asleep either side of me as I sat on the sofa. I had a few items on my to-do list, such as call my mother and make sure I avoid her plan to have me organise a baby shower, go through my notes on the Phantom case, work out my next move and call Amanda so I could discuss it with her. The most pressing on my list was though was eating. I had eaten an apple since lunch time and I was registering empty.

  I eased myself out from between the slumbering hounds and headed to the kitchen. Perpetually fighting taste over nutrition, I wanted a juicy, fat, cheeseburger with bacon and cheese covered fries. I rarely bought the ingredients to create such a feast though, knowing that temptation was far harder to succumb to if one did not have such things to hand. I settled on a compromise that ticked enough boxes from both taste and nutrition camps and made a turkey burger with sweet potato fries. The fries were oven baked and I used a wholemeal roll with no mayonnaise. First Dozer and then Bull had come through to the kitchen to investigate whether I had something extra for them to eat. I tossed them each a thick slice of carrot and watched as they trotted happily away to devour their prizes in private.

  While my burger had sizzled in the pan, I continued to consider my relationship options. I dismissed the notion of falling into bed with Poison. There were several reasons why I shouldn't. At my decision, Mr wriggly folded his arms and turned his back on me grumpily. Natasha felt like an obvious choice, but also like I was settling for the silver medal because I could not win the gold. Acknowledging that made me uncomfortable, but since I had no way of contacting her it was a moot point. This left Hayley. Part of my brain categorised her as the bronze medal. I told that part to shut up though. Hayley was lovely. What she appeared to be offering in terms of a relationship was not exactly what I was looking for, but since beggars cannot be choosers and I wanted to avoid getting to the point where I was begging, she made perfect sense. Anyway, all I was proposing to do was go out on a date for some dinner or something. I decided that I would visit Hayley in the next day or so and ask her to join me for dinner. There, decision made. Unless, of course, I could get hold of Natasha. She had given me her number, which I had promptly lost, so the ball was in my court, but I was unable to do anything with it.

  I checked the fries and flipped the burger. Maybe I would talk to the chaps about it at the pub tomorrow. Get a steer from them. And maybe I would see Natasha there anyway, and if it felt right I could ask her out in person. I had a few minutes before the food would be ready to eat, so I called my Mother on her house phone. She answered on the third ring by reciting the phone number as usual.

  ‘Good evening, mother.’ I replied.

  ‘Oh. Hello, Tempest. What can I do for you?’

  ‘The baby shower, mother.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘It is not a task that falls within my skill set.' I heard my mother open her mouth to speak, so I pressed on quickly. ‘However, I realise that whenever I tell you I cannot do something, I just wind up doing it anyway. So, I might as well just accept my fate and help you plan it.'

  ‘Oh, you are a good boy.' The truth was that my mother was rubbish at organising anything that did not take place at the church hall. If I refused to get involved, my sister would end up there with her friends eating soggy egg sandwiches and singing baby themed hymns.

  ‘Yes, mother.' I replied neutrally. ‘Have you already thought about what you want to do? Has Rachael said anything? Or given you any ideas about what she wants? Does she even know you are doing this?'

  ‘Rachael was here today actually, so I have a full list of things that she wants and places that she thinks we could have it.' I sighed in relief. Half the battle was won if Rachael had already given mother a list. There remained a distinct chance that left alone my mother would ignore all the requests and do it the way she felt it should be done. I would need to remain involved, but the task was less complex than I feared it might be. I listened while mother recited the list to me and we made a brief plan for me to free up some time in the next couple of days. I could take her to see some of the suggested venues and help with booking flowers and cakes and food etcetera. No date was set. It was left to me to call her in a day or so to arrange it when I had wrestled my diary under control. I had expressed that I had just taken on a major new case, but it was obvious from my mother's tone that my sister's baby shower was more important.

  My food was ready to eat, and I was hungry, so I promised once again to make some time and that I would call her soon. Then, thankfully, I disconnected. It was not that I disliked my mother, or disliked spending time with her. It was just that she was a little bit demanding, expected everyone to dance to her tune with no concept that anyone might have anything better to do and that she was generally a pain in the backside. Nevertheless, she was still my mother, the only one I had, and combined with my father, with whom she still lived, I could say that I had great parents.

  I sat at the breakfast bar in my kitchen leafing through a food magazine while I ate. As always, the enjoyable bit of consuming the meal took a fraction of the time to prepare it, but it was tasty and nutritious and well worth the effort.

  There had been a light drizzle earlier and the pavements outside were wet. Despite this, the rain appeared to have passed and it was a pleasant enough evening. The dogs need
ed some exercise, so I clipped their leads on and headed out on our usual route around the village. Periodically, they would stop to sniff something or urinate on a lamppost that had been urinated on by dogs ever since it was erected.

  We reached the park in the centre of the village and I unclipped them from their tethers, so they could run free and search for squirrels. I took out my phone and called Amanda.

  She answered on the third ring. ‘Tempest. Good evening.’

  ‘Hi, Amanda. Good evening to you. How was your day?’ I enquired.

  ‘Perfectly acceptable, thank you. Do we have a case?’ she asked, straight to the point.

  ‘Indeed, we do. I met with Mrs. Barker, widow of the late owner of Barker Mill. She is convinced her husband was murdered despite the coroners' report claiming natural causes and believes it was the heir Brett Barker that did it.' I paused while I checked that I could still see both dogs. Bull emerged from behind a tree to join his brother.

  Amanda spoke before I could continue. ‘What about the Phantom?'

  ‘Well, there is something going on at that Mill. I am just not sure what it is. The likely explanation is that someone once saw a shadow and convinced themselves it was a figure. Since then superstition has caused people to blame accidents on a mysterious cloaked figure.'

  ‘You do not sound as certain as you usually do.’

  She was right. ‘There is some physical evidence, burnt handprints, and the eyewitness reports sounded more convincing than usual. Like I said, there is something going on at that steel mill. We have been hired to investigate her husband's death though, not the Phantom. So, that is what we need to focus on. Are you available tomorrow?'

  ‘Yes. I have a shift tomorrow evening, so I will need to get away by late afternoon, say around four o'clock so that I can get a few hours' sleep before I start. Otherwise, I am good to go.'

  ‘Super. I have a couple of people to interview already but we should get started early and see them later. Can you come to my place at 0800hrs?’