by steve higgs
Nuts.
Patience arrived huffing and puffing next to me. ‘Next time I see that little dickhead, I’m gonna kick him in the ding ding.’
I felt the same.
Lunch. Friday, November 11th 1201hrs
I let Patience pick our lunch destination, so, fifteen minutes later we were sitting in her favourite Southern Fried Chicken place in Chatham. It was on the route from the college back to the office, our houses, and the farms so we had to pass it no matter where we were going.
I ordered a buttermilk chicken platter and a strawberry milkshake. Patience got herself a bucket of chicken designed to feed four people. As I picked up a piece of lean, breaded breast meat to bite, Patience pulled a chicken leg out of her bucket with each hand and started tearing chunks off with her teeth.
In seconds, she had grease on her nose, chin, and cheeks and a satisfied look spreading across her face. ‘I needed this.’ She said between bites.
I cleared my mouth in case she was about to launch into a summation of this morning's activities. I would have implored her to stop, but she was either too hungry to bother or knew that I didn't want to hear it, as for once she just kept on eating.
As I was finishing the last of my fries and she was just getting up to full eating speed with her bucket, she found time to ask me questions. ‘Whatever happened to Brett? Are you two done now? Is there someone new?'
‘Not much to tell.’ I lied. I was trying to avoid talking about it until I knew what it was.
‘Come on, Amanda. Talk to me while I am eating. Or would you rather I fill in the silence by telling you all about…’
I held up my hands in mock surrender. ‘Okay, okay.’ I laughed. She would never replace eating with talking but she was probably genuinely curious.
‘And you never even got to ride that fine body.’ She observed without taking her eyes off the chicken.
‘Well, actually…’
‘Oh, my God! When?’
I slouched back into my chair. I might as well entertain her for a few minutes. ‘Brett knocked on my door on Wednesday night. I think Big Ben went to see him, straighten out what he thought he saw. Anyway, Brett arrived carrying champagne and flowers and there wasn’t much talking after that.’
Her eyes were bugging out at me. ‘Was it good? Oh, hold on. Was it terrible?’
‘It was fantastic, truth be told.’ I sighed wistfully. It really had been. Not just because he had taken me to orgasm so many times, but because I was truly interested in him.
Patience waggled a greasy finger at me. ‘There’s something you are not telling me.’
I was struggling to stop my face from breaking into a smug grin. ‘He made it very clear that he is falling for me.’
A piece of chicken fell out of her open mouth. She didn’t notice. ‘Did he say the L word?’
‘No. No, not yet at least. But it felt like he got close to doing so.’
‘After one night in bed with you, the fine-assed, multi-millionaire is in love. What have you got between your legs, Amanda? Do your titties dance or something?'
There was a table of young men next to us that was now paying obvious attention to our conversation. This was entirely because Patience was talking about my titties.
As I grew embarrassed by the attention, Patience swung her gaze to lock eyes with the boys. ‘Help you with something?' The chap nearest to her tried to clear his mouth to speak but she was in a sassy mood. ‘Don't you be coming up with no clever line to throw at us just because the hot girl sitting next to you has titties that dance.'
‘Patience!’ I hissed.
The boys were laughing now, sniggering at the thought of my titties probably.
I pulled the conversation back under control. ‘Brett asked me if I wanted to quit my job. I think he doesn’t like that I might not be available when he wants me.’
‘Quit your job?’
I nodded.
‘After one night in bed?’
‘That would seem to be the case.’
‘Why not just propose?’
‘I got the impression he thinks my job is unnecessary. He earns so much that my wage can be replaced by the change in his wallet, so why not split my time between the gym and the spa and let him pick up my bills?’
‘He would just give you an allowance like pocket money? Sounds fantastic. Where do I sign up?’
I chuckled. I was fairly sure she was joking. ‘I’m too independent to be kept. Plus… I like my job.’ It was true. I couldn’t imagine not bringing in my own money and feeling successful.
‘You like him though, don’t you?’
I shrugged and nodded.
Patience reached into the bucket of chicken again. It was nearly empty, but she came up with a handful of grease-laden fries to devour. ‘Maybe you just need to establish dominance.’
‘And how exactly would I do that, oh relationship guru?’
‘Marmite blow job.’
I waited for a second for her to expand. When I didn’t say anything, she looked up from rummaging in her bucket. It was devoid of food now, nothing left but some seasoning detritus in the bottom. As she started to clean her fingers and face on paper napkins she elaborated on her answer. ‘You invite him over, get frisky, tell him you want to play a game and that Marmite is one of your favourite things. Then you put some on him and lick it off.’
‘Why?’ I asked, mystified.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Marmite is a vegetarian paste for putting on toast, right? It is basically yeast, right?’ She could see that I still wasn’t following. ‘You will have put yeast all over his knob, so the next morning he wakes up with a dick like a marrow that is glowing red because he has the world’s worst case of thrush. Great for getting revenge on cheating boyfriends or for establishing dominance – mess with the woman and suffer.’
My eyes were wide, and my mouth was hanging open in horror. ‘How many times have you tried that?’
‘Enough to know how well it works.’
‘I don’t think that is a tactic I can employ.’
‘Up to you, sweetie. What’s next?’
The task of eating and giving me relationship advice was done. Patience was ready to move on. What’s next was a good question though. We had missed the college geeks and they would recognise us now. There were no grounds for arrest, I had only wanted to talk to them but they had resisted and run away as if guilty of something. Now I was more curious than before and had to assume they were somehow involved in the case. At what level I couldn’t tell, but it seemed most likely that they were the ones behind the crop circles.
I explained my thoughts to Patience. ‘Do we try to catch them at home tomorrow morning?’ She asked.
It was a solid tactic. Young men were famous for not getting up at the weekend. I doubted these two were any different. James would find their addresses, but their accents were local which made me confident I would not have far to go to find them.
‘I think I need to go to Richard’s farm. There are too many elements that don’t add up or make sense. I have some questions for him and his farm hands.’
‘Okay.’ Patience replied.
‘You coming with me? I can drop you off at home again.’
On the Farm. Friday, November 11th 1327hrs
It took forty-three minutes to get from Chatham to Cliffe Woods during which we chatted about boys and the night out planned for tomorrow. Linda, one of the young girls at the station was turning twenty-two and had invited all the ladies for a night out in Maidstone. There was enough of us that it would make quite a crowd, but at almost thirty I was one of the older ones and not that excited about it. Patience was a little younger than me and couldn’t wait. She was a party girl though, always up for a few drinks and letting her hair down.
Despite my indifferent thoughts on the matter, I was looking forward to seeing some of the girls I used to work with and acknowledged that it would probably do me good to get out.
‘Is this the place?’ Patienc
e asked as she pointed out the window to a sign. It read Wendle Farm.
I turned the wheel to take my car up the narrow lane. Ahead of us were farm buildings and on either side, there were fields full of cows.
I had seen the farmhouse yesterday but had not really taken it in. Now I was looking at it and had to acknowledge how pretty it was. It was built of ragstone, at least I think that is the correct term for it and only had brick at the corners and around the windows and doors. The roof was thatched, but whoever had done it had gone to extra trouble to weave patterns into the straw and create ornate gable ends. In front of the house was a well-tended rose garden. The roses themselves were nothing but pruned stems at this time of year but I could see it would be pretty in the summer. Smoke was rising from a chimney in the middle of the roof.
I rapped my knuckles firmly on the door. I wanted to ask Richard some of the same questions I had asked Kieron and Glen to see if his answers differed. Thinking about all of that, I almost missed the kerfuffle going on inside. Patience nudged my arm and pointed a finger.
In the window above us, a curtain twitched, and we could hear voices, one man's, one woman's speaking in panicked hushed voices.
Patience and I looked at each other. We were listening to a couple that had just been disturbed having sex. I had been about to knock again but lowered my hand to wait politely instead. Richard and Michelle were a married couple and entirely within their rights to have sex at random times of the day if they so chose.
We heard clomping feet coming downstairs somewhere inside the house, trying to be quiet but not managing to do so, then the door opened to reveal Richard's wife, Michelle.
Her hair was mushed where, in my opinion, it had very recently been getting shoved into a pillow. ‘Can I help you?’ She enquired as if mystified by my appearance at her door.
I replied with, ‘You hired me to solve your alien milk problem. I have questions.’ Then I spotted not Richard but Glen in the room behind her. I slipped by her and into the house. The door opened into the main living area so all I had to do was sidestep her to gain access.
‘Hey!’ She wailed after me, but I was already in her house and looking at Glen. Glen looked guilty and had a sheen of sweat on his face.
If I was a betting woman, I would say that the owner from the next farm was having sex with the wife of his business partner. What did that mean? His wife had died two days ago but had that driven him to seek solace wherever he could find it?
‘Glen, so good to see you. Are you well?’ I asked. ‘You look a little piqued. Like you have been doing something you ought not to be doing.’
‘Quite well, thank you.' He avoided answering the sub-textual question. ‘Michelle, this is your house, should we make some tea for your guests?'
Patience had come through the door behind me. Largely ignored as Michelle had turned her gaze to follow me, she now strode into the room with her usual confidence. ‘I’ll have a tea, thanks a bunch, love.’
‘Who are you?’ Michelle asked, annoyed at the interruption and invasion, or perhaps embarrassed that she had been caught.
‘I'm Cagney and she's Lacey because she's the blonde one.' Quipped Patience. ‘No, hold on. They were both white chicks.' She made eye contact with me. ‘What's the one with the two cops where one is black and other is white?'
I thought for a moment. ‘Lethal Weapon?’
‘Good call.’ Said Glen, joining in.
‘Does that make me Danny Glover?’ Patience wasn’t impressed with the comparison. ‘We need to work on that.’ She said. ‘Never mind. I’m Patience, I’m helping Amanda with the weird shit you have going on here.’
Michelle looked confused as well as annoyed and there was no sign that the suggested tea was going to happen any time soon. I had questions though.
‘I came to ask Richard some questions, but since you are here instead, I have some for you as well.' I was looking at Glen. He still looked a bit like a rabbit caught in headlights. Like he wanted to bolt but couldn't get his feet to move. Plus, Patience was blocking the door with her arms folded and she looked immovable.
‘Err. Okay.’ He stuttered.
‘Shall we get the awkward bit over with and ask if your husband knows?’ Michelle’s face took on a panicked expression.
‘This was just an accident.’ She blurted.
Glen joined in. ‘I was feeling sad about missing Tamara. Michelle was just giving me a comforting hug.’ At least they weren’t trying to deny it. ‘We didn’t mean for it to happen. Richard is never here for her, he is away from the farm so much… We were both lonely.’ His tone had turned pleading.
‘It’s not really my business. What I really want to know is what you think is causing the milk to glow?’
‘I couldn’t possibly say.’ He replied after a brief pause. It was the answer I had expected but I wasn’t really asking it to get an answer, I was more interested to see how he would answer. Whether it felt like he was telling the truth.
‘Do you think it is aliens come to invade us and mess with our tea?’ My question sounded sarcastic, but I delivered it with a flat, serious tone.
‘Why are you asking us?’ Michelle demanded. ‘We are paying you to find out, not to question us. if we knew what was causing us to lose all our income, we would have solved it ourselves.’ She crossed the room and took a seat at the dining table. She sounded like Lara in her attitude toward me.
‘Fair point. However, it is my experience that…’ My phone pinged with an incoming text. I ignored it even though I knew it would just ping again in a few seconds. ‘the people that hire me know more than they share and only admit so when the truth is finally exposed.’
I let my statement hang in the air for a second. I was accusing them both, but not of anything specific. ‘Can we talk about Tamara? How long were you married?’ I had speared Glen with my eyes. I knew he hadn’t been married, what lie would he tell?
‘Tamara and I were never married. After a few years of living together, we just fell into a routine of saying we were. Common law marriage – it's a regular, everyday term.'
Yes, it is. Good answer.
So, Glen was able to respond with an answer that worked. It admitted the truth but didn’t expose him.
I nodded and changed tack. ‘The milk at each farm was affected a few days apart, first yours, then Richard's and then Kieron's.' I got the order wrong deliberately. ‘What do you think of that?' I didn't know what I was asking, this was an old technique though. Glen had been answering my questions so I was continuing to fire new ones at him. At some point, he might say something that would allow me to ask a more pertinent question.
‘Mine was the second farm to be affected.’ He corrected me.
I nodded, making a mental note. Then turned my attention to Michelle. ‘How do you know, Lara?’
She took a seat at the table, cradling her bump as she did. ‘We met at university. We were in the same class and discovered that we both came from Exeter. That was enough to get us chatting and we hit it off.’
‘What were you doing in Rochester when you met Richard?’ The chaps had said they were in a bar when the two girls wandered in, but the girls were not local so must have travelled for a reason.
Michelle seemed stumped by the question though. ‘I don’t recall. It was a long time ago.’
‘It was last year.’ I pointed out.
‘A lot has happened since. I think it was a concert. Yes, yes that was it. There was a concert at the castle in Rochester and we were there for that. We were early so we went for a drink. That was when we met the chaps and we got talking and missed the event anyway.’
She was lying. I saw people do this all the time during an interview. Once she had a second to dream up a story, she had gone on to embellish it with some details.
I locked eyes with her. ‘Who was playing?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘At the concert. Who was playing?’
Again, she struggled. ‘A local band. L
ocal to us in Devon, that is. I forget their name now but they were touring so we followed them.'
I didn't need to hear who it was. I could expose the lie by quizzing Lara about the same subject. I thought briefly about calling her now but dismissed the notion. It wasn't important. The important bit was that she was lying and I needed to find out why.
I had come here to talk to Richard. He was unavailable but I was learning more from these two than I expected. Catching them having sex… well, I wasn't sure what that told me yet, but it changed my perception of the relationships between the main players in this mystery.
I had more questions to ask, however, I wanted some time to think first.
‘Patience, I think we should leave.’
Michelle responded with, ‘I think you should too. You are wasting our time with your ridiculous investigation.’
I had been turning toward the door, but her open hostility stopped me. ‘Is that what Richard thinks?’ I asked.
It was Glen that answered. ‘Richard means well. So does Kieron, but I don’t see what one girl can do in the face of an alien invasion.’
I ignored the barb about my gender. ‘You seem like a rational man, Glen. Do you really think the problems here are caused by visitors from another planet?'
‘Yes!' He replied with a frustrated tone as if it was already proven. ‘They have been seen. There is evidence all around. My wife was killed by one this week.' He slumped into a chair looking defeated. ‘I would run away, but where would I go? Where would be safe?'
Michelle crossed the room to comfort him. I indicated that we should leave and followed Patience out the door.
Back outside the farmhouse, I didn't go back to the car as I had intended. Instead, I wandered across to the milking shed. I was beginning to see the difference between the buildings now. Patience trailed along behind me, no longer bothering to ask where I was going.
It was early afternoon on the farm, workers were performing various tasks and the cows were being milked. Even though the milk was unfit for human consumption, they still needed to milk the cows.
