by Robert Wilde
“We’ve not just lost the box,” Dee said, “in fact the box is irrelevant, because we’ve lost Joe. How do we get him back?”
They both drifted down for drinks, coffees, and when there was a tapping on the door later they were both still there. Opening, they found Jeff in a change of suit, paper in hand.
“I spoke to the people that examined your door last night. They have a set of fingerprints, but they don’t match anyone on the police computer.”
“What does that really mean?” Dee asked, pouring a mug for him.
“In all honesty, it means we don’t have a clue and we’re not going to catch them without something else. Do you have any clue who might have done this? Any suspects?”
“Well, there’s the CIA, MI5, whatever Russia has now…”
“Okay, I get the point. I do. But I doubt anyone that organised and funded leaves finger prints. It’s someone who knows about the box, but isn’t used to stealing things.”
“Rules Nazir out.”
“Any one likely?”
“It’s a long list.”
“I’m worried it might be. It’s like vandalism on a police officer’s house. Could be one of hundreds. I don’t suppose you kept that webcam working?”
“The one on the front door?”
“Yes.”
“The one that would be really fucking useful at this moment?”
“So no then.”
Dee sighed. “No. Once we’d sorted that case we stopped. Felt creepy. Maybe we should reinstate it. But then I couldn’t sneak any lovers in.”
“Maybe. Or you could have a huge cat flap for them to sneak through?”
“Cunning, a man flap.”
They’d take one look at what was in your scary spare room and run a mile.”
“Unless they were Joe level nerds in which case they’d wank over the Terminator.”
“Well there’s an image I’ll never lose.”
“You should have been with us the other day. Whew.”
“With the singing guy?”
“Singing is, in many ways, totally the wrong term. Grievous Bodily Harm through the ears is much more like it. If not aural rape.”
Dee’s phone beeped, so she took a quick look. “Text from Nazir. He says we’ll need cheering up, so we should get onto Acid Phantogasm’s YouTube account because he’s released his weirdest song yet.” She paused and shook her head. “I find the theft more cheering. But he’s given us a handy description and… oh dear.”
“Oh dear.”
“Just oh dear?”
“I can’t read this out, I can’t, I just can’t.”
“I’ve heard you say some filth,” Jeff said, then remembered they weren’t dating anymore.
“Yes, but this is, Satan has truly won.”
Pohl leaned back, pursing her lips. “Can I borrow your phone for a moment Dee?”
“Sure,” and Dee handed it across. Pohl dialled a number from memory and put the phone to her ear.
“Hello, Acid? It’s Dee Nettleship. We were wondering if you wanted another afternoon with the box?”
“No, no I’m fine thank you.”
“Okay.”
Pohl flipped the phone off. “He has Joe. That’s the only reason for him not to want a second meeting. He crept in here and stole our friend.”
“Good work Batman. Now we have a reason to go and paste that creepy fuck. I’ll text Nazur…”
“Shall I make myself scarce and pretend I haven’t heard the next part of the plan?”
“That, Jeff, would be very, very kind indeed.”
“Good. Just don’t kill him. I’m professionally obliged to leave that advice. Unless I’m in firearms, where they work to different rules.”
“Why are we using the sneaky approach again?” Dee asked as they crouched in the dark by the back door of Acid Phantogasm’s house.
“Well,” Nazir whispered in reply, “firstly we’re doing it so I can show off my fantastic new lock picking skills which I earned while you were lazy in bed for weeks being fed grapes by tame policemen…”
“Thanks arse face.”
“And secondly, we’re sneaking in to find Joe and assess the situation, we’re not charging in like the Israeli military. We don’t want to kill him.”
“I want to kill him,” Dee explained.
“Okay, you want to kill him, but we’re taking things slow and sensible. Now, if I just wiggle this…”
“I bet you’ve heard that a lot.”
“…then this door should just pop right open…” and there was a noticeable click, after which he turned the handle and the white plastic door swung open. “Ta da.”
“Okay, you can open doors. Now let’s go searching.”
The trio entered, each armed with a pair of plastic gloves, a torch, a taser and a police baton which was their contribution from a detective who didn’t want to be openly involved but still wanted to help.
The group already had a rough idea of the downstairs layout, so they fanned out. Nazir checked the kitchen, which was always going to be a forlorn hope, and didn’t find anything, Pohl went through the conservatory and back rooms, while Dee checked the lounge, and they came together in the hallway.
“Anything?”
“Nothing.”
“Nope.”
All eyes turned to the stairs, and the door next to it. “We are not going in the toilet.”
“I think we have to go in the toilet.”
“Joe owes us. He fucking owes us.”
“It’s not as if we have that weird lighting that…”
“Shut up.”
They opened the door and there, to their relief, was a certain wooden box sat on a bathroom cupboard. “Oh thank god,” and Dee snatched it up. “I never thought I’d feel so relieved.”
“I don’t think I felt like this when the box arrived the first time,” Pohl noted.
Dee flicked the switch. “Joe, Joe, are you there?”
“I’m in my happy place,” came a thin whisper, “happy place, happy place.”
“Can you hear us?”
“See no evil. Close eyes. Hear no evil. Close ears. Happy Place. Happy Place.”
“Okay, Acid has broken Joe. We’ll have to pay for therapy.”
“Acid!” came a screaming cry from the box, “Acid! Acid!” More and more women began screaming his name through the device, “someone’s stealing us!”
Dee flicked the box off. “Do you think he heard?” she asked knowing the answer.
“I heard,” came a voice from the top of the stairs, and they turned to see a man with a gun walking down towards them. “I see you’ve come for my box.”
“Our friend, not your box.”
“He hasn’t said much.”
“You’ve blinded him.”
Acid had arrived at the bottom of the stairs, close to the group, where he reached a hand out. “My box…”
Pohl noted the monogrammed dressing gown. Nazir weighed up the distance between them all, with a special emphasis on where the pistol was pointing. Dee pursued something annoying her mind. There was something wrong here, something she should definitely have worked out right now. Important. Very important. Then she realised.
“Where have all these ghosts come from?”
“What?” Acid said.
“There wasn’t a harem of ghosts here the other day. They’ve just arrived. And ghosts don’t just arrive. Where the hell have they come from?”
Acid froze up, his face looking nervous, his hand shaking slightly at them working it out. This allowed Nazir to push off one foot, step left, leave the gun aiming at nothing, and elbow Acid in the chin. He collapsed, and soon they had his gun and restrained him.
“Ghosts. From. Where?” Dee demanded.
“I, err, I…the cellar.”
Nazir and Dee grabbed Acid’s arms and marched him through the house, while Pohl carried Joe. They came to a door which was perfectly unassuming, opened it, flicked a light and walked down
into…
“It’s like the worst butcher’s freezer ever.”
There were eight women in the cellar, which would be bad enough if they hadn’t all been hanging by their necks off rafters, the floor marked beneath them where their piss had dried.
“What did you do.” Dee ground out.
“They’re my fans. I asked, and they came. They wanted to be ghosts in my harem, and here they are, they gave their lives to push sexual science forward.”
“Sexual science?”
“Yes.”
“You have eight dead women in your cellar and you’re claiming this is science?”
“What would you call it?”
“Fuck Cuntery. So can I kill him?”
“What? Kill me? All these women wanted it.”
“I think we need to call Jeff.” Pohl suggested.
“Wanted it? You have signed declarations which are valid in elf land?”
“Err…”
“Yes, yes, I’ll go back up and ring Jeff, he’ll know how to handle this.”
“If you hand me over I’ll grass you and your talking box up to the police.”
Nazir started laughing. “Because the police will believe your part of the story once you tell them about the ghosts, and once they’ve listened to your songs. Whereas our part, with fingerprints and corpses will be fantastical.”
“Oh. Perhaps you could kill me so I can be a ghost too.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Dee cursed, “I can’t even kill you now. Do they have a nutter’s wing in prison?”
“He’s Broadmoore for sure.”
“Well let’s hope they don’t let him have a guitar.”
“That million quid is beginning to look a bit dirty,” Nazir admitted.
“I’d forgotten about that. Grrr, why is the world so fucked up sometimes.”
“Suddenly Russian gangsters seem easy enough to deal with.”
“I could probably explain away a really good kick in the balls.”
“Good point, you could catch him square on, that would work.”
“I am still here. I am still a person.”
Dee peered down at him. “Who’s about to have very, very bruised testicles.”
Nine: Sleeper
There were certain benefits to being one of Britain’s foremost occultists, and if Stranos had to pick his favourite one he’d settle on the decidedly non-esoteric practice of being sent dozens of books for review each month, each hoping to add his name and a quote to the front cover. The things piled up in his house, and he had rooms devoted solely to the books he’d been sent. A whole library of the weird, which was appreciated by everyone except his cleaner who told him to put less on the floor as it was hard getting to the carpets. She was an excellent woman who did her job cheaply and efficiently, but it would do his self-belief a power of good if she’d be a little over awed now and again.
He was currently sat in his study, surrounded by papers he’d written and reading material he hadn’t, considering the next step. Go through yet another Borley Rectory book to see if it was worth giving a quote or file it under ‘please stop writing these’? Not tempting, but the publisher was a friend. Or return to his own researches, which had global implications? Of course the latter seemed most sensible, but then again the publisher always provided such wonderful port.
Stranos was sure he heard a tapping noise from within his house, which didn’t worry him because spirits were supposed to be able to communicate via tapping. So, interest piqued, he rose, walked through his bungalow, and followed the noise. Into the hall, into the kitchen, to the back door… oh, that was it. The disappointingly mundane answer was that a dog was tapping on the glass with one paw. Okay, a big dog, a strong looking dog, but still a dog and not a spirit.
“Go away doggy,” he said, turning to go back into his study, freezing when his eye caught movement. He turned back and realised the dog was now up on its back legs, and had both paws on the door handle. It couldn’t surely…
The handle was pushed down, the back door opened, and the black, muscular dog came trotting in. Not wanting to give an inch to a dog of all things, but scared by the beast’s size, Stranos waved his hands at it and tried to look large. That’s what you do isn’t it, with animals, look large? However, it had no obvious effect and the dog came forward, mouth open, teeth exposed.
When the dog let out a deep growl Stranos’ answer was a scream and a turn to rush for the study door, but the dog sank teeth into the human’s arm and began to thrash the man back and forth. When the man fell the dog pounced onto his back, and use its great jaw to tear into the man’s throat. Within a minute he was dead, blood spreading over his kitchen floor.
The dog, meanwhile, moved through the building, rinsed a lot of the blood off in the toilet bowl, and then exited by the back door into the world again.
“This has got to be one of our worst ideas.” Dee was currently standing in so much weatherproof clothing she could have stocked a shop, and had a look that wouldn’t so much curdle milk as waterboard it.
“This wouldn’t even make the top ten. Or bottom ten, depending on your view.” Nazir finished replying, then swung his golf club and watched the ball arc through the rain.
“Well I’m thankful for the opportunity,” Joe said, moving his construct body forward to the tee and making a few test swings. He was also dressed in wet weather clothing, but the idea was to cover as much of him up as possible, and he had a Halloween mask in his pocket just in case.
“Yes,” Dee sighed, “while playing golf in the rain does ensure an empty course and give you plenty of chances to flex your new body, we are still playing golf, in the rain, more scared of people appearing than a paedophile in a bush.”
“Well that’s got to be one of the worst things you’ve ever said,” Nazir said in reply.
Joe settled his construct body over the ball Pohl had put down for him and executed what turned out to be a perfect swing, and all four watched the ball go straight down the middle.
“Well that’s fucking cheating,” Nazir commented.
“How is that cheating?”
“You’ve got a robotic body, you’re strong and mechanical.”
“I still have to control it, it’s not like I’ve got a copy of Tiger Woods 14 plugged into a computer brain.”
“You say that, but are you being totally honest. You might have a laser targeting system for all we know.”
“Can you see a laser?”
“I can see the big metal robot thing stood very near me. Lasers aren’t exactly a stretch of the imagination.”
“I can see why you two won’t let me near a puppy, you’ve got future shock.”
“Yes Joe,” Dee sighed coming to take a shot. “We’re persecuting you because we can’t cope with a future filled with constructs. And not because you’ve made me very wet… and don’t you say a fucking word Nazir, I know how your mind works.” She muffed the swing and the ball landed very short. “Fuck socks.”
“I bet you’re not even keeping score.”
“Pohl is, aren’t you.”
“Yes.”
“Right,” Dee sighed, “Mine probably resembles a cricket match.” When her phone then rang she exclaimed “thank fuck, hopefully someone is calling us away,” and she answered. “Hello Jeff, I’ve never been so pleased to hear your voice.”
“I’m flattered. But sadly it’s business. I have a murder I’d like your help on.”
“As long as you say you need us immediately and you can’t possibly wait.”
“Actually this evening would be ideal.”
“Well fuck, we are going to have to play eighteen holes after all. Nazir, stop smirking, I know what you’re thinking.”
Jeff was waiting in his car when Dee pulled up, and he’d made it over to greet them by the time they climbed out. There were hugs, and soon the detective was leading them up a literal garden path.
“Front door looks like its jammed shut,” Nazir said, eyeing the con
struction.
“It is, the situation evolved round the back,” and Jeff led them down a side passage until they were faced with an old brick building someone had thrown a new plastic back door into.
“Surprised the council allowed that,” Nazir mused. “You treat your planning laws like they were given by Moses.”
“Obviously, as a man who upholds the law, I am honour bound not to agree with you on the stupidity of council regulations, but it’s interesting you should note the door.” Jeff then led them inside. Soon they were all stood round a puddle of blood on the ground. “Crime scene’s not been cleaned yet, so the gooey stuff is still here. Now, you’re probably thinking I asked you to investigate this case because Mr. Stranos was a famed occultist, whatever that actually entails.” Everyone nodded. “Not quite. And you might think I asked you because he was killed by a dog, which we haven’t been able to trace yet.”
“I was hoping the dog part was a ruse,” Pohl said shivering.
“No, I asked you because the dog, having killed Stranos, left the house after closing the back door.”
“Ah.”
“I’m not a dog owner, but I don’t really see how that behaviour isn’t suspicious of something. So, if you’d like to have a chat we can get this moving forward.”
“You want a description of the dog?” Dee asked, putting Joe down.
“It’s not going to be a dog, is it,” Jeff said, feeling that pain in his head which always followed these adventures.
“Okay, Joe, is Mr Stranos there?”
“Sort of,” came an uncertain reply from the box.
“Sort of?”
“Well, he’s here. And here. And here. He’s been torn apart and left dribbling everywhere.”
“Oh, that’s not good,” Pohl began, but Dee’s mind went somewhere else.
“Aliens!”
“No, no, calm down, it’s not the aliens. They left people different. This was just GBH on a soul.”
“Do they still have GBH?” Pohl mused.
“So he’s been torn apart by a spirit?” Jeff tried to confirm.
“Yes.”
“I hesitate to ask, but one of those Dinosaur thingies?”
“That seems likely detective. We’ve never come across a human able to do this.” Joe sounded slightly queasy.
