by Gwen Gardner
Speak of the devil, he and Simon came out of the pub.
“Indigo was just going to share some info with us,” said Cappy.
I couldn’t look at Badger so I focused on Simon and Cappy. “I had lunch with Robbie…”
“Uh huh,” said Badger, interrupting rudely. Confused, I glanced briefly at him and looked away again. He said it like my meeting with Robbie had been something sinister. What the hell was that about?
“…and I found out some more information.” I explained about the second police car and Robbie’s suspicions.
“I knew it!” said Cappy. “You can’t trust the police. All that power goes to their ‘eads.”
Cappy certainly had no love for the police force, having had a few run-ins with them himself. In fact, that’s how we met. Shaking his hand, a vision of potential trouble scrolled through my mind. I warned him to stay away from the park that night. Evidently I saved him from inevitable grief had he gone. We’d been friends ever since.
“So basically, a private investigation occurred and it’s not on record anywhere,” said Simon.
I nodded.
We hopped a bus to take us the ten blocks to Village Towing, Badger strangely quiet. What had gotten into him? Maybe he daydreamed about her, I thought in a non-jealous sort of way… Okay, I lied. Jealousy consumed me. Jealousy, the eighth sin was invented just for me. Yep, sooo going to hell.
De-boarding on Castle Street, Village Towing was just up the block. It occupied the entire cul-de-sac called King’s Court. The offices located on the right, the vans to the left, and surrounded by an eight foot fence with razor wire at the top. The gate stood open.
Simon and I entered the office, while Badger and Cappy did reconnaissance in the van-yard.
“Simon!” said the girl behind the counter. A pretty brunette, she had brown poofy hair and big dark eyes.
“Hiya, Katrina.” He flashed a smile he reserved for girls only. “I didn’t know you worked here.” Of course. Simon knew a girl in every port, just like a sailor.
“Yes. After school and weekends. My dad owns the company.”
“That’s cool,” said Simon. “This is my cousin, Indigo, by the way.”
We said hello. She had a sweet smile, not the jealous kind which a lot of girls wore before they found out I was only a cousin.
Simon turned serious. “We’d like some information on an employee. Skip Shepard.”
“Oh?” said Katrina. She looked wary. Giving out personal information could earn her a pink slip from most employers.
“It’s about the night my mum and brother died. We’re putting a time-line together, and your driver towed a car in the area on the night of the accident. We’d like to question him as well, to see if he remembers seeing any other vehicles in the area.”
“You want to know what time he went out on the call then.” Katrina walked over to a computer. “I suppose it’s all right if I give you that information. What was the date?”
“January 7th, 2009.”
She sat down before the computer and typed the date. A screen popped up and she began to scroll through it. “Here it is. The call came in at 8:11. A Detective Sergeant called Michael Potter.” She clicked some more. “Skip went out to tow a 2005 white Ford van - owned by Eloise Krepp.”
“And what time did he pick it up?” I asked.
She looked back at the screen. “8:35.”
I nodded. The right timeframe and therein laid the problem. All our suspects were in the area around the time of the accident. After the initial report with no information, it looked like the street had actually been a three-ring circus.
“Is Skip in?” asked Simon.
Katrina checked a schedule on the wall. “He should be out in the yard now. Just go through that gate across the way and make a right. He should be near the area with the overhanging corrugated roof. That’s where the drivers hang out.” She pointed to the gate Cappy and Badger disappeared through.
Simon and I exchanged a look. I had confidence Cappy could make up something plausible on the spot if he had to, but hoped they’d taken every precaution not to get caught in the first place. And I prayed they’d locate the truck, I meant van, in question fast and beat feet out of there.
We crossed the road, entered through the gate, and headed toward the metal overhang. I kept an eye out for Cappy and Badger but didn’t see them.
We approached the first man we saw and asked for Skip.
“I’m Skip. What can I do for you?” Fortyish, dark blond hair and permanently tanned, he had deep age-lines around dark blue eyes.
Simon introduced us and explained our mission; to find out more about what happened on the day his mom and brother died.
Skip answered quickly, with no hesitation. “Yeah, I remember that night. The bloke who got arrested was completely blitzed and irate. Kept yelling and cussing at the cops.”
“Did you notice any other cars in the area?” asked Simon. “A blue car or van in particular?”
“No,” said Skip. He shrugged. “Just the police.”
Out of the corner of my eye, a shadowy blur darted between two vans, followed by a larger one. Cappy and Badger better had completed their job, because I couldn’t think of anything else to ask Skip.
“Thank you, sir,” I said.
“Yes, thank you,” Simon added.
“No problem. I’m not much help, really. I drove slowly because the weather was bloody awful. But I didn’t see anything. Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”
Simon and I headed back to the gate. Badger and Cappy stood on the corner waiting for us. I breathed a sigh of relief. Skip seemed like a nice man, but if he thought he was being investigated for hit-and-run, he might just turn nasty.
“Did you get it?” I asked, as we approached them.
“Of course,” said Cappy. “Easy Peasy.”
Badger shook his head. “The kid is good. Knows his way around.”
I eyed Cappy. “Hopefully he doesn’t know his way around as well as he used to.”
Cappy grinned and winked in response.
“Come on, you juvenile delinquent.” I linked arms with Cappy. “Next stop, the fire department.”
“Sorry, lad,” said Craig Meyer, when Simon asked if he might remember anything else about that night. “When the call went out for information about anything unusual in the neighborhood, I hesitated to call. Then I figured, why not? So I called. I’m sorry I can’t be more help. There really wasn’t much to tell.” He shrugged.
“Well, thank you, sir.” Simon held his head low, turning to walk away.
“The van left right away, so it hardly seemed to matter,” the hunky firefighter called after us.
“What? Are you sure?” asked Badger, who lagged behind us.
“Oh, quite certain. That’s why it hardly seemed to matter.”
“O’ course it matters, man!” said Cappy, exasperated. “It makes all the difference, doncha see? It means the person drivin’ could ‘ave been the hit and run driver!”
Yeah, Craig Meyer was hunky, but missing that necessary staircase between floors.
We thanked him again and hurried away. By silent agreement, we chose not to speak of it until we reached the Blind Badger.
Even so, Badger sat quietly and stared out the window on the ride back. Something else definitely bothered him.
I sighed, feeling a bit melancholy myself.
We piled into the snug. Riley brought up the rear with sandwiches and chips. I mean crisps, britspeak for chips.
Simon insisted on being first at the sandwiches. “I want a good one for a change. I deserve a good one. I’m even willing to pay, if I have to.” He began at the top of the pile, opening each one to peek inside. He came to roast beef and took two wedges. “The rest are yours.” He smiled hugely. “Finally, a decent sandwich.”
“What’d you find out?” asked Riley. Her pen was poised and ready to record.
“Katrina said the call came in at 8:11,” said Simon.
“And the pick-up was at 8:35.”
“Katrina? Who’s Katrina?” Riley frowned.
“She’s a friend from school. Turns out, she works at Village Towing,” said Simon.
Riley wrote Katrina on the map and underlined it twice with a heavy hand. “We need the names of everyone we speak to—just for the record.”
“Oh, you mean everyone except your secret source, don’t you?” said Simon.
“That’s different…” said Riley.
“How’s that different?” Simon argued.
“Stop!” I yelled. “Can we just move on? Please?”
They glared at each other for a long minute. Simon glanced away first.
Riley looked back down at the map. “What color was the tow van? Did it have blue paint on it?”
Badger nodded. “White, red, blue, green. You name it. All the colors of the rainbow.”
“Oh.” Riley couldn’t hide her disappointment.
“We did the best we could. Scraped all the blue paint samples from all ‘round,” said Cappy.
Badger agreed. “The tow van itself is blue. I think.”
“‘ard to tell,” added Cappy. “But yeah, I’m bettin’ blue.”
“I’ll drop the samples off to my friend tomorrow,” said Simon.
Riley wrote the word blue with a question mark next to tow van. And next to that, the date and Simon’s name next to the most recent sample drop off. “Does your friend have a name?” she asked, pen poised above the map.
“It’s a secret,” said Simon, pressing his lips into a flat line.
“All right. Anything else?” She looked at everyone but Simon.
“Indigo had lunch with D.S. O’Boyle.” Badger leaned back in his chair. He looked almost…accusing. Did he think I told Robbie about the investigation? I didn’t. I wouldn’t. But based on past experience, Robbie may have already figured out we were up to something.
“Oh?” Riley checked the board. “I don’t have that on the map.”
“It was a last minute thing. I couldn’t be sure I’d have anything to report. Just a hunch, really…” I hoped no one noticed my flushing cheeks. But announcing what really prompted the impromptu visit wasn’t an option.
“And a good one, too,” added Cappy.
“How’d you do that?” asked Simon. “I thought you had classes til 2:00.”
“Yeah. I did. But I thought this was more important, so I skipped.” I stumbled over the lie. I am soo going to hell. What a terrible liar. My cheeks flushed even more and I avoided eye contact. Pretty soon, I wouldn’t be able to look at anybody.
Simon narrowed his eyes, but let it go.
“Well go ahead, then,” said Badger, surly. What in the world was wrong with him?
“All right. Well, a second police car was on the road that night,” I said. “Ahead of the one Robbie traveled in. It could have been involved.” I explained the situation as Robbie explained it to me.
“So we need a peek at his employee records. What’s his name?” asked Riley.
“Michael Potter.”
“I’ll check into it.” Riley wrote the name on the board next to Robbie’s.
Simon snorted.
Riley ignored him. “So - is next Friday all right with everyone for the next meeting? Perhaps we’ll have something from forensics by then.”
We agreed and rose from our seats, anxious to escape the tension in the room.
“All right, out with it,” said Simon. We left the meeting and walked across the market square. The meeting ran late and it was nearly ten o’clock.
“What do you mean?” I squirmed. He hadn’t forgotten my earlier discomfort.
“Come on, Indigo. Who knows you best? That blush and inability to meet anyone’s eyes is a sure sign you were lying. Plus, Badger acted strangely all day. What’s going on?”
“I could ask the same of you!”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what’s up with you and Riley always snapping at each other?”
“We don’t.”
“You do! And besides, nothing is going on,” I denied. “I skipped afternoon classes, that’s all. I knew it was wrong.” I forced myself to meet his gaze - well, more like his ear, but whatever. “I have no idea what’s wrong with Badger. He’s kind of a moody sort, isn’t he?”
He eyed me skeptically. “Yeah, he’s sort of moody. He got moody right after we saw you holding hands at Luigi’s with O’Boyle.”
“I…I what?” I sputtered. “I most certainly did not hold hands with Robbie. I patted his hands, I had a vision—besides, what difference does it make? What could Badger possibly care?”
“For a psychic, you’re incredibly blind, Indigo.”
“Besides, Robbie is too old for me.”
“You’re legal. Like I said. You’re incredibly blind,” Simon repeated.
Robbie was like an older brother. And could Badger possibly care for me? Could he be jealous? I shook my head. No way. We’ve never even been on a date. He’s never asked me out. All of our kisses, however wonderful, had been fake, in the line of duty.
I never could keep things from Simon. I sighed. “It’s Badger. I saw him with a girl at school. She was pretty and feminine. The proverbial English rose. And everything I’m not.”
“First of all, you underestimate yourself,” said Simon. “And second, what do you mean he was with a girl? He’s not seeing anyone special.”
“They were hugging—he and giraffe-girl—he seemed to enjoy it.” I shrugged. It sounded a bit foolish now that I said it aloud.
“Wait—” he stopped, pulling me around by the upper arm “—pale, blonde and big b—”.
“Yes,” I interrupted before he could finish, “and legs up to her chin.”
He laughed. “That’s Teri Fletcher. We’ve know her our entire lives. Trust me, if any rumpy-pumpy was going on, I’d know about it. I mean, she’s totally hot and all—”
I crossed my arms over my chest. Seriously dude, if this is you trying to make me feel better…
“—but they’re just friends.”
“Oh. Well. It’s nothing to do with me.” Yes! I did my best nonchalant head-wag and walked away.
Simon gaped after me. “But you—”
“Come along, dear cousin.” I glanced at the sky. “It looks like rain is on the way.”
He sighed and muttered under his breath. “Bloody daft women… bloody secret sources…”
“Simon!” A call came from the pub. Riley ran across the square. “Your cap,” she said, slightly breathless. She put it on his head and tugged down the edges.
They shared a smile.
“Cheers,” said Simon.
“No problem,” said Riley.
I looked up at the sky to give them a moment. Clouds covered any sign of light. Misty gray fog muted the lighting in the square. Drizzle began to fall in earnest. A perfect set of conditions for paranormal happenings. The usual shiver crawled up my spine. I looked around for the source, but didn’t see anything suspicious. A plethora of Victorian spirits tumbled out of the Blind Badger, making merry as Franny might say. Other than that, only a few people mulled about. Nobody paid us the slightest bit of attention.
Still, uneasiness wrapped around me like a cloak. I tugged on Simon’s sleeve. “We’re being watched,” I whispered. “Or followed, I’m not sure.”
His gaze scanned the square. “Come on.” He took Riley and me by the elbow and guided us into the shadows. We hunkered beneath the jettied overhangs of the half-timbered buildings. Listening for any sign of attack, we waited and watched.
I looked toward the ginnel, but didn’t sense anything in particular from that direction. But glancing across the square at the market hall, a shadow lurked among the dark pillars. A shadow not of spirit, but someone living.
Crap. Being followed meant physical danger. Our questioning made someone nervous. A guilty someone. Or someone who knew something or someone involved.
“At the hall,” I whispere
d. “Not a ghost.”
“Bloody hell. Not again.”
I echoed that sentiment. Our last stalker, Billy Radcliffe, ended up dead.
“What do we do?” asked Riley.
Simon tugged his phone from his pocket and clicked out a text. A ping came back with the reply. After responding, Simon pulled me and Riley further into the shadows and tugged us alongside the building.
“There’s no time for this.” Simon spoke low and firm. “Just. Stay. Put.” He sped into the shadows and vanished.
Riley and I locked gazes in the darkness. Simon disappeared so quickly we couldn’t see where he went.
“Blast him!” Riley hissed.
Dread filled my chest and sank to my stomach. “We can’t stay here.” I made a split decision. “I’ll circle around the back. You go after Simon. We’ll meet behind the market hall and...do something. I don’t know. Just go!”
She nodded. We raced in opposite directions.
Reaching the passage that led to the street, I sprinted as fast as I dared. The cobblestones were smooth and slippery. I careened around the next corner and skidded, but managed to stay on my feet. Through the misty fog, what looked like shadow-boxers appeared on the path ahead. They grew and receded along the corridor as I neared. Shouts reverberated off the stone walls. Panic urged me forward. Almost upon the fighting, a body lunged at me from a dim stairwell. I went down hard. “No!” I screamed, pinned to the ground. I thrashed and kicked at my assailant, finally connecting with a vulnerable spot. He gasped and released his grip. I rolled sideways and scrambled to my feet, ready to fight. He had already gotten to his feet, but bent at the waist, grasping at the hoodie to keep his face concealed.
“Who are you?” I squinted through the gloom and took a step toward him, almost close enough to see past the hood. Distant footsteps echoed in the corridor, growing louder as they neared. In the instant I glanced behind me, the guy took off.
Badger appeared out of the gloom, breathing hard. “Are you all right?” He stared at the backside of my assailant.
