by steve higgs
The roads were clear and free flowing on the short run back to Barker Mill. In the car, I recapped the information I had and questioned it.
Mrs Barker had engaged me to prove that Brett Barker was responsible for her husband’s death. I had subsequently discovered that Brett had arranged for a supply of fake drugs which he had switched for his Grandfather’s heart medication. This was the damning piece of evidence. Amanda and I had found both the original drugs and the remainder of the fake drugs hidden in a compartment in his wardrobe. Brett had motive – inherit the Mill and opportunity since he lived in the same house and worked in the same building. Brett had also used Owen Larkin to pose as the Phantom. My belief had been that the fake heart meds were taking too long to kill his Grandfather off and Brett had sent Owen to the mill late one night to shock the owner and cause a heart attack. The hot glove and the Phantom’s cloak had been found in Brett’s office. Combine this with the purchase of the fake meds and it all pointed to Brett. If I did nothing now Brett would be found guilty and that would be that. His plan to sell off the Mill would be scrapped, and Mrs Barker would get the justice she sought.
So why is Mrs Barker now talking to real estate people? I kept coming back to that question. She might have a completely legitimate and unrelated reason. That felt tenuous though.
This wasn’t getting me anywhere. I tried coming at it from a different angle, one where Brett Barker is completely innocent. Staying with this premise, if Brett was innocent someone would have had to have planted the hot glove in his office and the pills in his apartment. They would also have had to pay for the pills to be manufactured using his credit card. Also, Brett wanted the Mill broken and devalued. If he was innocent of causing the death of his Grandfather was he also not guilty of sabotaging the Mill? I could not make sense of it because whichever way I looked at the case I could not come up with a reason for Brett to cause damage to his own Mill. What gain could there possibly be?
Then a further thought surfaced. During the raid on the Mill, Big Ben had been adamant that the chap he tackled had been taller than Owen Larkin. Had Owen been standing on something, or had it just not been Owen? Did he have time to kick Big Ben in the nuts and get to the other end of the Mill to then be chased back towards us by Hilary and Basic? If not, then who had been inside the Mill to kick Big Ben in his testicles?
Furthermore, what about Jagjit and Poison’s claim that they had been following a cloaked figure. They had also claimed it was taller than Owen Larkin. Maybe six feet tall had been their estimate. So… so… there was something key here and I was just not seeing it.
The two chaps at the hospital – Gary and Chris. Chris had claimed the Phantom he had chased and had then been attacked by was a girl.
I drummed the steering wheel with my fingers and tried to force my brain to connect the dots.
OMFG! There was no way this thing was that convoluted. Dots were finally joining in my head. Well, more sort of leaping and crashing into one another than joining. The connections they were making would be ridiculous if they did not actually fit the circumstances so well.
I punched the phone button on my console. The in-car system spoke to me. I instructed it to call Amanda.
She picked up on the second ring. ‘Tempest? What’s up?’
‘Can you get to Brett Barker?’
‘Can I? Why do… No, forget I asked. Yes, probably.’
‘I need you to ask him what his plans for the Mill are.’ I was thinking as I was talking. ‘Find out if he was actually causing damage. I doubt they can charge him with anything regarding sabotaging his own mill, but I need to know why he was doing it.’
‘Ok, I’ll give it a go. I’m not sure if he will speak to me given that I arrested him.’
‘You can tell him that this might get him out. Tell him I think I have solved the case this time. But please stress that I need his help if he is innocent.’
‘I thought you were convinced he was guilty.’
‘I was. Long before I got anywhere near proving it. I was blind to other possibilities and it seems I was wrong from the start.’
‘I’ll let you know how I get on.’ she disconnected.
I had reached the A2 offramp. I indicated and swept down and under a flyover. I would be at the Mill in moments. There were several people that I intended to see, I just hoped I would catch them all here on a Saturday morning.
I turned into the Mill entrance. The security guard waved me through the gate. There in front of me and easily visible was the Nissan Skyline. Now that I was looking at it properly I could see just how much love, attention and mostly money had gone into it. It looked like it had just rolled off the assembly line, but from a factory where they add every conceivable non-stock styling and performance extra. This thing was shaved and slammed. It must be worth fifty grand, I estimated. It was not a car a young man could afford unless it was:
A. not his.
B. provided to him by a rich uncle
C. reward for services rendered to a rich widow.
I hit it with my car.
I already knew that he was not one of the Barkers. Given that there were only two people living at the house and I had seen him leaving there early in the morning it had to mean he was sleeping with one of them. My money was on Mrs Margaret Barker. But Mrs Barker was hot. Very MILF hot. So, why would she bother with a young, spotty, geeky teenager?
The only answer I had was because she wanted him to perform tasks that he otherwise might not and was using sex and very possibly the car to ensure he did them.
The car alarm was blaring. I got out of my car and walked around to inspect the damage. By blind luck and a bit of aiming I had managed to hit it with a bit of my bumper that already had a scuff on it. I had been meaning to get it fixed for months. Now I would have to. The damage to his car was minimal; a slight bruise to the front bumper, but on such a treasured item it was serious enough.
I only had to wait a few seconds before faces appeared at the windows of the offices that overlooked the car park. I had no idea where this chap worked. However, my hunch was it would be a role that brought him into regular contact with Mrs Barker and thus he would most likely be in the offices and not the foundry.
Sure enough, less than a minute after the alarm started the young, spotty fellow exited the main office building and headed my way, his pace hurried.
‘Oh my God. What did you do? He asked disbelievingly as he came breathlessly to a halt.
I let him take it in for a moment. He plipped the alarm off.
‘Are you blind?’ he asked. ‘What the fuck have you done to my car? You had better have some fucking good insurance.’
‘Martin.’ His face froze. I could see him trying to work out how I knew his name (It was on the pass displayed on his dashboard – Martin Wilkins). ‘Martin, you are in a surprising amount of trouble.’ I was still guessing but I either had this dead right or dead wrong and since I had already crashed into his car I might as well carry on assuming I was right.
Martin stood about six feet one inch tall. He had on flat, office shoes and was skinny.
‘Where are you hiding the Phantom cloak?’ I watched his eyes and breathing looking for facial cues. I knew they would tell me everything and they did. Even before his lips moved I knew he was guilty. I was guilty too. Guilty of not listening. ‘My big friend. The one you kicked in the nuts? Let’s just say that he is the least of your worries.’
‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’ He stammered.
‘Is it in the car, Martin? Or have you stashed it at the Barker house?’ He was looking a little sick.
There were still faces at windows watching us but thankfully no one else had come out.
‘Martin, we are going to do our insurance paperwork so that people watching do not come over. While we do it you are going to answer my questions.’
‘And if I don’t?’
I fixed him with a stare. He swallowed. ‘Then I will have a police friend here short
ly to ask the questions for me. Would you prefer that?’
I got my insurance papers from my glovebox and we began to chat.
How many phantoms can you count? Friday 15th October 1057hrs
My talk with Martin had been most enlightening. I had let him go when I felt confident I had extracted a full and accurate story.
He was not the only person I wanted to speak to this morning though. I strolled around the back of reception without bothering to pass through it. I was done with all that nonsense. Using the age-old look like you belong here, and people will ignore you policy I wandered unchallenged into the main office building and upstairs.
Just down the corridor towards Brett Barker’s now vacant office was the open plan area I had passed several times previously. The desks in it were arranged in neat clusters of four with dividing barriers to give the individual some semblance of privacy or perhaps the purpose of the barriers was to demark one desk from another. I was not sure. The barriers were high enough though to hide most of what the person on the other side was doing but not so high that two seated persons could not converse over the top of them. Most had things pinned to them. A postcard here, a note or a photograph of the children there. I could not see who I was looking for and was starting to feel a little exposed just stood in the middle of the office looking around. The lady nearest me was about to ask me a question, probably if she could be of assistance, when my quarry appeared emerging from an alcove I had not noticed carrying four coffee mugs.
I was guessing that she was my quarry actually. I had never met the lady, so I was using a few clues from the last week as I pieced together how dumb and blind I had been.
The girl, I say girl, but she was possible twenty or more and probably a size twenty too saw me watching her and looked at me.
‘Kerry?’ I mouthed in question.
Her eyebrows raised. It was her. I went to her desk in the corner of the office where she was now handing out the mugs of coffee to the other three ladies seated at her cluster of desks.
‘Kerry, good morning. My name is Tempest Michaels.’ I handed her my card. I have been hired to investigate the Phantom.’ I watched as her face turned red. ‘Might we have a word in private?’
Kerry looked at me. She had tears in her eyes and was blushing a rather incredible shade of scarlet.
‘Perhaps we should find your grandfather.’ I suggested. I took her arm gently and led her unresisting form from the room. Her colleagues gave her some questioning looks and I noticed her shaking her head at one or two of them, answering some silent questions about whether they should intervene or not I guess. No one did anything to impede our exit.
I gave Kerry’s arm a squeeze. I wanted to impart a sense of calm authority. Nothing bad was going to happen to her. Well, probably not, but I had truths to uncover.
Brett’s Truth Friday 15th October 1303hrs
I left the Mill a while later having extracted everything that I could from Kerry, her grandfather Old Sam and Ronald. Most of what I learned was surprising. I was heading now to Jagjit’s place of work, although I did not know where that was beyond that it was in Canary Wharf in South London. Mrs Barker had been altogether naughty, and I was off to burst her bubble. My phone helpfully located the building that Jagjit worked in and provided a tube station that I needed to get off at all without me needing to stop walking. I arrived back at the Mill carpark, slid into my car and aimed its nose at the exit.
I had been played like a fiddle right from the start. Margaret Barker, I now refused to even think of her as Mrs Barker had lied to me, she had murdered her own husband and planted a trail of breadcrumbs for me to follow to her step son Brett. I had obeyed her wishes better than a trained dog. Now I was mad and about to get even.
I called Amanda.
‘Tempest.’ she answered with excitement. ‘Have I got news for you?’
‘Brett is totally innocent and has been working in the best interests of the Mill all along.’ I said.
‘Yes.’ she paused. ‘How do you know that already?
‘I also know that Margaret Barker killed her husband. That Brett is innocent is the only explanation left that makes sense.’
‘Do you want the details?’ Amanda asked.
‘Yes please.’ I listened as Amanda explained what Brett had told her. Most of it was surprising. I was feeling generally surprised today. Not only at the truths I was now discovering but also from what I was learning about my childish, fragile ego and how gullible I could be.
At the end of her report I told her where I was going and what I needed her to do. She promised to get it done and that I would see her shortly.
Benover Commercial Property. Friday, 15th October 1357hrs
I arrived at the Benover Commercial Property Developers and Architects Agency in Canary Wharf by tube. It simply wasn't practical to drive there, so I had ditched the car at Dartford train station and taken my second train that week.
Google maps on my phone took me to the building, otherwise, I might never have found it in the bustling concrete jungle. Towers stretched into the sky as if trying to escape the earth like rockets, only to find their feet still attached. Stood outside a building that my phone assured me was the right one, I could not see the name of the business. Only when I went inside and studied the information boards displaying business names did I find it located on the seventeenth floor. The lobby corralled people through a security process which included bag search and x-ray body scanner but started with a check of identification and appointment. Going past me were those with passes.
Without an appointment, I was directed to the security desk where I met security guard Carl.
‘Good afternoon,’ I began, only to have him lift a hand to silence me.
‘Do you have an appointment, sir?’
‘No. I,’
‘Next.' He called, turning his attention away from me. He was impressively rude.
I swallowed my anger. It was unlikely to get me inside the building any quicker. Instead of wasting my breath attempting to speak to security guard Carl, I learned from him and didn't bother. I called Jagjit and when he didn't answer I looked up the landline number for the business and called that instead.
‘Benover. How may I direct your call?’ was how the lady answered the phone. Her accent was Toronto, not unusual in London to find people from somewhere else in the world.
‘Good afternoon. My name is Tempest Michaels. Can I speak with Jagjit Singh please?’
‘I'm afraid he is in a meeting, sir.' she replied without hesitation. From Jagjit's brief description, the deal with Mrs. Barker was a big one. Jagjit was a rising junior at the firm and might very well be in the meeting with her.
‘The meeting with Mrs. Barker?' I enquired.
‘Yes. That’s right.’ she brightened.
‘I have information pertinent to Mrs. Barker. I need to deliver it by hand. Can you please have security at the front desk allow me through?' It was an outright lie, but I calculated that knowing Mrs. Barker was there and why and saying I had come to mess the deal up would be less likely to get me through the gate.
‘Just one moment, sir.’ she replied, and I could hear her typing. ‘You should be able to pass through security now. Just speak with one of the guards on the front desk.’
I strolled confidently back to the desk and security guard Carl.
‘Hello again.’ I addressed him engagingly.
He just stared at me.
‘I think if you check my name you will find I am cleared to enter.’
He just stared at me.
‘Thank you.’ I said and took my turn at being ignorant by turning my back and leaning against the counter while I checked my phone.
He gave up after a few seconds and clicked a few keys, reading my name from the driver's license I had placed on the desk. He buzzed open the security gate for me to start the process of being x-rayed and searched. He did it without a word and refused to make eye contact when I picked up my I.D. from
right in front of him. He did make a point of nodding to the chap doing the body scan though, so I wasted a further five minutes taking off my shoes and belt and emptying my pockets as the randomly selected person.
The elevator was waiting for me as I pulled my belt back through the loops on my trousers as I crossed the atrium floor. Up seventeen floors, I exited into a wide corridor. A brass looking sign on the wall directed me left to find the Benover offices.
Through glass panelled doors, I found a young woman sat behind a glass and chrome counter. Behind her head was a large and ornate sign telling me I had found the right place. I went in.
‘Good afternoon.' I said, looking around. ‘Tempest Michaels. I called from the lobby.'
‘Yes. Would you like me to show you to the meeting room?’ she asked.
‘Yes. I would.’ Super.
She led me down a short corridor. I could hear voices ahead of me muffled by the walls. We reached a door marked on the outside as the Board Room and she politely knocked on the door. The conversation inside paused, at which point she turned the handle and let me into the room.
A dozen faces turned to look at me, including Jagjit’s. He looked horrified and like he was going to say something. I winked as we made very brief eye contact. I dismissed him before he could speak and ignored the other occupants as I scanned the room. Margaret Barker was sat near the head of the table next to an elderly man in a well fitted three-piece suit. To her other side sat Owen Larkin who looked shocked and angry. A big piece of the puzzle fell into place.
She looked nervous. ‘You did not cover your tracks well enough, Margaret.’
‘Who the devil are you, young man?’ asked the elderly gentleman rising from his seat. The owner perhaps.
‘My apologies, sir.' I said, addressing him directly. ‘Mrs. Barker is guilty of murder, among other crimes and her accomplice Mr. Larkin is involved also. The land she is attempting to sell you for redevelopment is not hers.'
Mrs. Barker spoke. ‘You overstep your bounds, Mr. Michaels. Besides, the shares will be mine long before the deal goes through.' I watched as she placed a hand on Owen's forearm to keep him in place or from speaking.
