by steve higgs
As they wrestled Max, I stood up and took myself out of the room, following the lawyer a few paces down the corridor. I looked at him for the first time. I had often wondered about courtroom lawyers, the ones that are paid to defend a person they know to be guilty. How do they sleep at night knowing that it was their savvy argument that allowed the criminal to return to freedom and be able to commit more crime? I had heard the arguments and acknowledged that everyone deserved to be tried and proved guilty if they were, but the system seemed flawed and the lawyer earned good money to keep guilty people out of jail. Perhaps my view on the subject was juvenile or innocent. The man I was looking at had a familiar face though. That was the predominant thought in my mind, nothing to do with his ability to sleep peacefully. His chin, his eyes… something about them.
Five minutes later, I was led back into the room where a less lively and far more handcuffed version of Max was sitting in his chair once more. The two uniforms remained in the room in case he decided to try anything adventurous again. CI Quinn had a graze to his chin and a cut to his lip. I wondered when a man of his rank last had to get on the floor for a brawl.
He advised me again that I had to stick to the script with the added threat that he would terminate the interview if I didn't. I saw no option but to agree to his terms this time while also pointing out that my technique had got the man to speak. I felt it more likely that it was just my presence that had affected the change but left that point unspoken.
CI Quinn restarted the interview. ‘Mr. Travers please tell us why you attempted to attack Mr. Michaels while held in custody inside a Police station.'
Mr. Travers said nothing. I was still staring at the lawyer. He had noticed me doing so now and was trying to ignore me. Human nature dictated that he would have to glance at me every few seconds though just to see if I was still looking at him.
CI Quinn spoke again. ‘Max, the charges against you are quite serious. Given your record, you are unlikely to see freedom for some time so it would work to your advantage if you cooperate.'
Still nothing. There was a small vein beginning to pulse in CI Quinn’s forehead. I put a hand on his forearm.
Let me try.
He nodded in acquiescence. I turned to face Max more fully and made it clear I was going to speak. He didn’t need to shift his gaze as he had been looking directly at me the whole time. ‘Max, I’m curious. Why are you such a complete dick?’
He shot out of his chair again only to find a hand on each shoulder forcing him back down. The two uniforms were very useful. Back in his chair, he glared at me, then as I watched, he forcibly relaxed his face and began smiling again.
‘Clearly, it will not be me that claims the reward. It is a shame, but I doubt you will see out the week, our numbers are too many.'
‘You have me at a loss, Max. What reward?’ The obvious inference was that someone had posted a reward for my death. It was a little unnerving.
‘You upset Deadface. He wants you dead. Anyone that he wants dead does not have long to live but he wanted to make extra sure with you, so he offered us a sizeable payment for the task, even more, if we could deliver you to him alive so he could kill you himself.' He delivered this news with the relaxed tone of someone talking about their dinner plans.
‘Deadface. Is that a person?’ CI Quinn asked. The Klown did not answer nor show any sign that he had heard him.
I repeated the question myself.
‘You know who Deadface is.’ Max replied. ‘You created him.’ The lawyer whispered insistently in his ear.
I created him?
‘All if this is your fault. That is why you have to die.' Max continued. I, of course, had not the slightest idea what he was talking about but I was starting to feel thoroughly creeped out. I had to squash those thoughts though and press this idiot for information. The lawyer was getting more animated in his whispering now.
‘How did you become involved, Max? You have not been out of jail long and there is no mention of Klown-like make-up in your file before now.'
‘I answered the call, Tempest Michaels. Just like all my brothers did. Deadface called and we answered. Our victory will be glorious.’ The lawyer grabbed Max’s arm. He clearly wanted Max to stop talking. I really didn’t, so I pressed on.
‘What victory?’
‘Hah! You can’t go spoiling the surprise, Tempest. You will bear witness soon enough.’
The lawyer spoke audibly then for the first time. ‘Max, you utter one more word and you will be cut off. Try doing this without his support.’
‘Shut the hell up, Adrian. You ain't one of us.' Max spat back at him.
Wait a second.
‘Adrian? You are Adrian Plumber.' The lawyer swung to face me looking like a rabbit caught in headlights. I had said the last sentence as a statement. He shared facial features with his sister, my client. CI Quinn's eyes were boring a hole in the side of my head. He had no idea what was going on. Which I rather liked.
No one said anything for a few seconds. Adrian was especially quiet.
I figured I might as well be the one that broke the silence. ‘I was hired by Adrian’s sister to find him. He ran away to join the Klowns. She was worried. She hired me.’ All eyes were on me. ‘Adrian and I actually spoke a few days ago. Didn’t we, Adrian?’
No response.
‘You told me that you were not coming home and that you were going to get rich.’
Still nothing, as if he had learned it from Max.
‘I have to wonder what rich means to a man that practised tax law in London. Surely you were already earning more than everyone else in the room added together.’
Stunned silence.
I asked him a series of questions without getting another word from him. Both he and Max were great at not speaking. Fifteen minutes later, CI Quinn called a halt to proceedings, terminated the interview and had Max Travers escorted away, still smiling at me as he went. When Adrian attempted to get up and leave also he had been invited to, "Sit his arse back down." At that point, he went all lawyerly again, citing that they had no reason to hold him and nothing to charge him with. CI Quinn disagreed and arrested him on the spot. The two Officers that had led Max away returned for Adrian. I was enjoying myself even if no one else was. I had solved a case while sat on my backside. I could call Mrs. Plumber when I left the office and tell her I not only knew exactly where her brother was but that I could guarantee he was not going to move on for some time.
I turned to CI Quinn once the room was empty of everyone but the two of us. ‘What do you make of all that?'
‘I have to say, Mr. Michaels that you are very good at upsetting people. Other than that, we learned nothing of value.'
‘Really? We learned that the Klowns have a leader. We now know his name. We learned that they have a goal, although we have yet to define what it is. We also learned that this all revolves around me and thus we have a new perspective from which to view the case, and from which we might glean a correlation of some kind between the crimes committed thus far.'
CI Quinn's face was full of mock humour. ‘The whole case revolves around you? Could your ego be any more inflated, Mr. Michaels?' he scoffed. ‘That fool was throwing us a red herring and you bought it. You are the centre of nothing. That you have been targeted by Mr. Travers and his partners and by the previous group on Saturday night proves nothing other than coincidence. Do you know any of the other victims? The men and women that have been attacked?' He watched my face, knowing that it was a rhetorical question. 'No? Well then, Mr. Michaels, I suppose you would have me believe the other crimes were committed simply to throw the Police off the scent and disguise you as the true target then.'
‘Perhaps we should interview the second man from the attack outside my office. He will corroborate the theory one way or the other.' I said, rather than rise to his goading.
‘How will we do that now that their lawyer is under arrest?' My goodness, he was an annoying tit.
‘Are you a
ble to hold him?’ I asked.
CI Quinn got out of his chair rather than answer my question. ‘Mr. Michaels you are clearly quite badly injured, my advice as always is for you to give up pursuing your ridiculous paranormal cases and find a new career. This one does not suit you.' He turned and walked away through a door before I could respond, leaving me to fume silently. Moments later, a uniform turned up to escort me back to the reception area whereupon I was dismissed. In all, it had been a mixed couple of hours. I had learned some things about the Klowns, I had found the missing Adrian Plumber and I had accepted that I probably needed to be really worried.
Outside the station, walking to my car, I retrieved my phone from my bag and called Jane.
She answered on the third ring. ‘Hi, Tempest. Where are you?’
‘Just outside Maidstone Police station. Where are you?’
‘We just left Chatham. My brother arranged a loan car for me while he is getting mine fixed. He is very good like that. Very generous. Shall we come to you?’
‘No. You should head home. It is long after your working hours and you should be safe enough there. You are no longer in your car, so chances are they will not recognise you now. Just watch for cars following you and can you drop Basic off at the office first please?'
‘Of course. See you there.’ She disconnected.
I arrived at my car but did not get in it. Calling Mrs. Plumber to inform her about her brother was top of my to-do list. She was pleased to hear from me and very excited to hear that I had found her brother. The news that he was in custody and had been representing the Klowns as their legal council did not go down so well though. There was a significant amount of swearing at the other end of the phone and I found myself listening politely to a monologue about what she was going to do to him when she got hold of him. Eventually, she realised I was still there, briefly apologised and thanked me. We disconnected, and I got in my car.
The Blue Moon Office. Wednesday, 26th October 1426hrs
I went home via my house as I needed to make sure the dogs were okay. I used to worry that I did not walk them often enough when I was tied up with work but had since learned that they were really quite lazy and preferred to stay asleep. Back when I was in the Army, I would take them to work with me most days. They had fun barking at soldiers, chasing squirrels on the rugby pitch and consistently got lots of exercise as I was always going somewhere. Now though, like me, they had settled into civilian life and the reduced level of activity.
Nevertheless, I kicked them out of the house for a run around the garden, gave them a piece of carrot to crunch on and settled them back on the sofa before I headed to the office.
I found that I was checking my rear-view mirror far more than I would usually. After two Klown attacks in a few days, followed by them chasing Jane this morning, I was being sensibly wary. Would they target my house? I could not come up with a reason why they would not, and the thought worried me. What if they set fire to it while I slept? What if they set fire to it while I was away? How would the dogs get out? Ever more disturbing derivations along the same depressing line surfaced in my consciousness. It was freaking me out. I turned the car around and went back for the dogs.
‘Dogs.’ I called going through the door. I had only been gone a few minutes, so I got the usual response in such circumstances which was no response at all. I found them on the sofa still pretending to be asleep in the hope that I might go away. They had undoubtedly heard me pick up their leads and collars as I came through the house. ‘Boys, it is really necessary to be this lazy?’ I asked them as I threaded their collars over their heads.
Reluctantly, they plopped off the sofa and came with me to the car where I deposited them both on the passenger seat. The trip to work was only a few minutes’ drive but I got there after Jane and found both her and Basic in the office. The dogs charged ahead of me to get to the top of the stairs as they could tell there were people up there and people meant fuss and possibly treats.
‘Doggies. Hur hur.’ I heard Basic talking to the dogs and when I got to the top of the stairs he was kneeling on the floor to tickle their bellies. He was a gentle soul, loving and giving and he liked the dogs. Most people did.
‘Hi, Jane. Thank you for staying with Basic. What is your plan now?’ I asked her.
‘Actually, I think I would like to hang on here, maybe help out with whatever you have planned. If I go home now, I will just be at home by myself and I think I would rather stay with you pair until my boyfriend is home. Is that okay?' she asked the question carefully as if I might say no and send her away.
‘Of course, Jane. Our next task is going to be to sift as much of the available information on the Klown crimes as possible and see what we can add up. The Police are wilfully ignoring the possibility that I am somehow at the centre of the whole thing, so we are going to start with that and see if we cannot make the crimes make sense using that as a motive.' I looked at Jane and Basic for their opinion, then realised they were looking for me to lead them and were ready to follow whatever daft idea I might have.
‘I grabbed my bag from the desk where I had placed it and fished out my wallet. Let’s start with some lunch, shall we?’
Twenty minutes later the scent of warm pizza floated up the stairs to herald Basic's arrival back at the office. I had suggested pizza and the others were only too happy to fall in line, especially since I was buying. I was wondering whether I should be worried about my food choice. I ate pizza, who didn't? But it was the sort of thing I would allow myself as a rare treat if I was out for food, not something I would order from a second-rate takeaway joint. Since my injury on Saturday night, I was displaying a worrying trend towards eating food that would expand my waistline, which since I could not exercise to combat the unnecessary calories, was the most likely end result. I shrugged mentally, telling myself to worry about it later, I had bigger problems right now, so I selected a slice of glistening, gooey meat feast and went back to the whiteboard I was beginning to make notes on.
Basic was sat at the table by the window eating a piece of pizza, but I noticed that he had gone quiet. As I looked across at him, I saw why. He was in a standoff with Bull who had managed to jump onto the spare chair and then the table and was threatening to dive onto the plate Basic had stacked several slices of pizza on. Basic had a piece of pizza in his mouth and both hands on it, but his eyes were on the dog. Dozer was trying to distract him by climbing his leg, dividing Basic's attention and making the likelihood of pizza theft more probable.
I walked across the room, nudged Dozer’s bum with my foot to knock him off balance and scooped Bull from the table. He grumped his displeasure at me as I placed him on the floor. I gave them each a very small piece of pizza as compensation for spoiling their endeavour and instructed them to leave Basic alone.
Satisfied that they might now give up on their quest for food, but with one eye on them, I went back to what I had been doing. On the wall opposite the desk was a map of Kent. I used to have a map of the local area, but I had bought this one just a week or so ago when I had seen it in a shop and it was proving useful now because the Klowns had targeted people all over the County. I had small, coloured push pins dotted into towns and villages from Pluckley to Pizien Well, Tonbridge to Tankerton. The pins had a white sticker on their heads, on which I had written numbers which corresponded to my notes on the whiteboard. The crimes on the whiteboard were in chronological order, listing the place the person was attacked and the nature of the crime. I had written the recent murders in red ink – the escalation to murder demanded it.
The crimes had all been restricted to Kent apart from one. Was it just coincidence or were all the people they wish to terrorise simply living in Kent? The only time they had appeared outside of the County had been more than a week ago towards the start of their campaign when they attacked a woman in Scunthorpe. Marion Lloyd had been attacked outside her house early on the morning on Tuesday 17th. Four Klowns had kicked and beaten her, leaving her
with multiple internal injuries and broken bones. They sprayed their calling card on the side of her car, but the attack had been dismissed by the Police as a copycat attack and thus not perpetrated by the same Klowns at all. I wondered about that.
At the desktop PC, Jane was cross-referencing data, looking into the history of the victims, their lives and careers etcetera and trying to find patterns, links, anything that might tie them to me. The problem was I didn't know any of them. Not one name was familiar and only one name was missing – the murder victim from last night had still not been named. It was quite possible, probable even, that there were other victims that had not yet come forward. There was no point including that possibility in my considerations though.
I had marked on the board the one connection we had found – the two women that had gone to school together in Charing, a small village just outside of Ashford. They appeared to have no other connection and Jane could not see that there were any other victims that had also gone to that school. There was most certainly no connection to me that I could perceive.
‘I have something.’ Jane said, putting her hand up but not taking her eyes off the screen. I went around to join her behind the desk, pushing a plate with a couple of pizza crusts out of the way with my fingertips so that I could put my hand down and lean in to inspect the screen myself. ‘These two, Mark Tanner and Erica Carpenter worked at the same business a few years ago. I had to dig right back into their work histories to find it. They both worked at Inspirations Web Developers in the late nineties. Their time at the firm overlapped by about two years.’
‘Okay.' I said staring now at the whiteboard for their names. I spotted Erica first. She had been attacked quite early on, almost a month ago now but had not been hurt. The Klowns had chased and harassed her but nothing more than that. This had occurred near her house in Ramsgate. She was fifty-eight and the second oldest person on the list. Mark Tanner had been mugged by three Klowns in broad daylight less than a week ago. It had happened as he came away from an ATM during his lunch break in Rainham. The mugging had been violent in that they knocked him to the ground and kicked him a few times. ‘So, they worked together. Anything else?'
