Now We Can’t Sleep At Night (The Dead Speak Paranormal Mysteries Book 2)

by Robert Wilde

  “So we go in?”

  “Yes, but keep alert.”

  “Says the man about to fall asleep on his feet.”

  “I have adrenaline left, and it’s working.”

  They crept inside, looking at a plain, empty hall, and then peering into a lounge. Big sofa, big television, pile of magazines never properly read, just like everywhere else.

  “Nothing odd here,” Jeff said to the group behind him. “Nazir, make sure no one comes down the stairs, I’ll check down here.”

  “Sexist,” Dee whispered after him as he ducked into the kitchen, but he soon returned.

  “Every other room is empty, there’s no people. No sign of a cellar either, new build, although that doesn’t rule out home made cellars. So, we go upstairs,” and Jeff led the way. Of the doors they now saw, one was open and clearly led to a bathroom, two were shut, and a fourth was also open, and close. They crept to it, and Jeff entered.

  There was a desk on the table, and the pile of office debris either side of a clear space made it quite clear someone had removed a laptop recently. “He’s gone,” Jeff hissed, “he’s taken his computer and gone.”

  “Err, to your left?”

  Jeff turned his head, and saw rack after rack of plastic spindles, containing dvd after dvd of… he walked over and looked at a label.

  “This says ‘Joan, 23rd October 2013.’”

  “This says ‘Trev, 2nd December 2013.’”

  “Well fuck me, he ran off but left his entire murder perv collection.”

  “That’s a lot of material.”

  “Alright, stay here, I might as well check the other rooms,” and Jeff was gone for a moment before he returned.

  “Looks like someone stuffed a few things into a bag, took his laptop and fucked off. Dammit, dammit. He knew.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Nazir said.

  “Oh?”

  “You kept this out of the press. So, the only people who know are police. And you only rang through we knew who this guy was minutes before we arrived, so only the police knew. Right?”

  “I don’t like where this is going. A mole?”

  “No, probably not. It’s possible someone has hacked your system and is reading all the information.”

  “Oh really,” and Jeff raised an eyebrow.

  “Err, so I’ve heard. We’re dealing with a guy who took his computer and left his wank bank. I think we’re dealing with a hacker too.”

  “Does this help us find him?”

  “If you want to trap him, or cut him out of the next stage of the investigation, yes.”

  “Of course, of course, sorry, I’m getting tired and ratty. Right, fuck. I had better get this thing refocused, because we have a manhunt to be getting on with.”

  Dee was driving the group back home, and the mood was sombre.

  “Do you think Jeff will find this man before or after he collapses?”

  “That’s not funny Naz.”

  “I’m not trying to be funny. I’m worried about him.”

  “Well we can only hope someone finds this guy soon, I’m sure none of us want to have to talk to another ghost.” Dee finished by parking her car. “But is anyone coming in?”

  “I’ve got nothing to do,” Nazir said, and so the group were soon inside, where Dee made them all coffee and they sank into the sofas.

  “I don’t feel like board games,” Nazir said, looking at the pile on the table.

  “Sometimes I feel I can sympathise with fire crews waiting for a call out.” Joe finished saying this, and realised the whole room was staring at him bemused. “What? I can’t have feelings now?”

  “Half the time you look like a fire hydrant.”

  “Oh thanks, do I criticise your body Nazir?”

  “You can’t, I have the figure of a titan.”

  “Is that even a good thing?”

  “Let’s ask the professor. Is…”

  They were interrupted by Dee. “There’s some weird message on my computer.”

  Nazir leapt up and went round to where Dee was holding her laptop. “Well fuck me,” he added.

  “What!”

  “I put something on all our computers to trap anyone who tried to hack them. I was worried about revenge attacks. Well guess what, shortly after our serial killing hacker gets to look at Jeff’s email, he’s trying to hack us.”

  “You’re sure it’s them?”

  “Hell of a co-incidence otherwise. It must be them, must be. Unless it’s the Russians.”

  “Cunning fuck. What do you mean trap them?”

  “Well, there’s no point in just blocking a hacker when you could be harvesting their information to get your own back. Or double back. Or something, I’m not sure how that would work.”

  “Right, so you’ve got them? You know where they are?”

  “No, I have a mass of data which I can read through, but from that I might be able to get them.”

  “They why are you still standing here?”

  “Because you might want to check Facebook first.”

  “I am not a vacant arsehole. Ooh, ooh, that’s you isn’t it Nazir.”

  “You seem very pleased with yourself over that joke.”

  “I am getting my own back for all those times.”

  “Right, you ring Jeff, I’ll get this nailed down.”

  Dee’s phone rang. “Hi? Jeff? How did you know we were ringing?”

  “I didn’t. I am ringing to rant.”

  “About what?”

  “You will not believe what just happened. Will not literally believe it.”

  “That’s a big literally given our career choices. So, do tell.”

  “You remember Detective Smithers, right?”

  “Yes…”

  You saw all sorts when you sat on the front desk in a police station, and as the doors opened automatically a woman came marching right up, pausing at the last possible moment, and the stench of joss sticks preceded her by a good two feet. The officer sat there wanted to give her a drugs test, but they’d probably get some lawyer moaning about that.

  “Yes madam?”

  “I’d like to speak to detective Smithers please.”

  “I’m afraid she’s very busy at the moment, what is your issue?”

  “I have information regarding a very important case, and I’d like to give it straight to her.”

  “I see, I see, and this case would be?”

  “Top secret!” The woman actually flourished her hands.

  “That’s not really enough for me to interrupt a detective during a difficult moment like this.”

  “Interestingly, none of the press know it’s a difficult moment, do they?”

  “Oh.” Yes, he might have given a little too much away there. A little too much indeed.

  “So will you ring and get her?”

  Dying a little inside, the officer picked up a phone, and soon Smithers came into reception.

  “Ah, Smithers!” the woman boomed.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met?”

  “We haven’t, but I recognise you.” Which wasn’t creepy at all, oh no, and Smithers led the woman into a small interview room away from a reception area which was now a far quieter place.

  “I believe you have information for me?”

  “Yes, oh yes, I do.”

  “What case is this about?”

  “I believe you are investigating a pair of serial killers.”

  “I can’t comment.” How did she know that?”

  “I believe one is a much older man, the younger a lover turned killer. I believe the older one is dead, self-inflicted, and the younger is at large.”

  Smithers had let her jaw drop. “How do you know that?”

  “I, Detective, am Madame Ovary…”

  “Do you mean B…”

  “No. I’m a professional psychic, and luckily for you I was in the area when I began to feel a disturbance in the, err, spiritual world.”

 
“You’re psychic?”

  “Yes. As I said, and have proved with my information so far.”

  “I see, I see.” Smithers paused for breath and thought. The police dealing with psychics was silly, totally silly. And yet… wasn’t Jeff always doing something odd? Weren’t there those rumours about him? Wasn’t he doing something weird and having all that success? Why couldn’t she do it too?”

  “Okay, you’re psychic. What further information can you give me?”

  “You’re in luck. I can give you a name, a description, and I believe his current location.”

  “We’ve tried his property…”

  “Not there deary, the place he’ll have gone to hide.”

  “What do you want in return?”

  “Justice being done, simply justice being done. Although if you have the money for a taxi after this that’ll be great.”

  “Okay, I’ll get you some coffee, or tea, or whatever you drink and we can get everything taken down.”

  “I don’t touch caffeine, plays havoc with the spirit world. I’ll take a camomile though?”

  Jeff was asleep. He wouldn’t admit it if later asked, and he certainly wasn’t parked where anyone would ever find him, but he was asleep. His dreams were fevered and interrupted, as his mind rose and fell, but he kept coming back to the last twenty four hours he’d spent with Dee. Not twenty four hours in strict chronology, but a cut up, as if a director had edited all their time together out of a longer movie and distilled it right down.

  And what was this telling him? It was telling him he’d fucked up royally and should still be with Dee. This was not unusual for his dreams, which often came back to something his subconscious clearly thought was a mistake on a scale of invading Russia, but there was a greater intensity here. Perhaps the lack of sleep had heightened things? Perhaps his subconscious was winning the battle, and his conscious self would soon agree he should do whatever it took to go crawling back. Perhaps, perhaps.

  He initially ignored his phone ringing in favour of lying uncomfortably in his reclined car seat, but clearly the other end didn’t want to go away, so he answered it.

  “Detective Maquire speaking.”

  “Ah, Jeff,” said a colleague, “you’re going to want to get yourself speeding along.”

  “Do we have a lead?” he said, instantly awake, even if that still felt like he was in a zombie movie as the zombie.

  “Yes and no,” came the less than helpful reply.

  “Right, which one?” Where were the keys?

  “Smithers has been talking to a psychic.”

  “What? A what?”

  “Yeah, we know, a psychic, some woman who wandered in earlier and said she could solve it all for us. Daft thing is Smithers believes her and an address had been given, so we’re racing off to kick the doors in.”

  “Oh Jesus, you take a small detour and this happens.”

  “You coming then?”

  “Yes, yes, I better come and smooth all this shit over. Jesus.”

  Jeff was soon driving along at police speed, which was always five miles an hour over what the average racing driver would dare along public roads, and then slamming on the breaks as he saw squad cars parked ahead. What was he going to do now? He couldn’t really tell Smithers off for being stupid could he, given what he’d been up to. But seriously, if she was listening to psychics…

  He climbed out of the car, braced himself, and walked up to the door. Coming to greet him were a group of officers, Smithers at the front and then… a man in handcuffs? A man who looked a lot like their suspect, in handcuffs?

  “Smithers, what have you…”

  “We’ve got him sir,” she said beaming, “we have got him, and his laptop. He was indeed monitoring us.” She grinned, and it widened when she saw how utterly surprised Jeff was.

  “You better… take him… to the station… now. Then.”

  Jeff looked at the notes he had been taking, then at the man siting opposite. Darius Jenkins was six foot tall, blonde, and could have fitted easily into Hitler’s empire either as a super soldier or a death camp operator. Where some killers tried to distract people from their crimes, or win the interviewer over, or even deny the clear evidence, Jenkins had taken the glory hound approach, and had confessed to everything in minute detail. If he took any more notes today Jeff was going to need a bionic hand, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to wank in the near future.

  “So, to sum up, you confess to eighteen solo killings, all of which you covered up thanks to being a crematorium operator?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Well, I think that’s everything.”

  “Actually detective, there’s one last thing.”

  “Yes?” Please don’t be another dead person, please.

  “I am so erect right now detective, so very erect.”

  Oh great. Jeff stood, shook his head, and left the room as Jenkins’ solicitor began to realise he wasn’t winning any famous victories here.

  Jeff then took a left and walked to his office, but as he did he passed a staff room where someone shouted “a salute to Smithers!” There was a cheer after, and Jeff smiled. He had doubted her, totally doubted her, but she had been right: the psychic had predicted where Jenkins would be, and he’d been totally wrong. The world was wider than he thought, and even better, she had the task of explaining that to her, and his, superiors. Good luck.

  Jeff settled into his chair, looked at his desk, and wondered if a full paranormal group couldn’t be formed. Then he heard a scream, leapt up, and ran in that direction.

  Flinging open a door, his mind had parsed the situation: it was Smithers’ voice, and it was a scream of frustration. She was in front of him, sat in front of a computer, but her head was lying on the desk. Not lolling, but temple down on the desk.

  “What is it? What’s happened?” Jeff was genuinely concerned.

  “Fuuuuuuck.”

  “Yes, but what happened?”

  She then pointed a finger upwards, and Jeff realised she was pointing at a screen, the computer screen. On it was a video she’d been watching to review evidence, and it was paused. There was Jenkins, his smug face grinning, and there was obviously some poor young woman who he was about to… actually, she was smiling a lot and she was holding ropes. And she looked familiar. Very familiar. In fact he could swear that…

  Oh. The woman next to Jenkins was Madame Ovary. She wasn’t psychic at all, she’d just informed on her former partner, and he’d spent the last few hours convincingly covering up for her, obviously not knowing how he’d been caught. Love was a bastard wasn’t it.

  “Fuuuuuucck.”

  “Yes Smithers, that does seem to be an appropriate reaction, all things considered. Now would you like to report this, or shall I?”

  “Arsehole.”

  “Yep.”

  Dee put her phone down. “Right, that was Jeff. It turned out the psychic was a world cup referee level fuck up, and they are actually after a third suspect, a woman. So, we are back on the case, and we need this one guys, we need to show we’re better than the bullshit. So, what leads have we got?”

  Pohl looked at Joe’s box, then back again. “None?”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought, bugger. Actually, where’s Nazir?”

  “He went to the loo.”

  “Right, he’s like a fucking ninja. NAZIR!”

  “You don’t have to shout,” Joe said, “my receptors are sensitive.”

  “No wonder you never got many shags.”

  “Easy to mock a dead guy.”

  “I heard myself being called?” Nazir said returning.

  “Yes, we’re back on the case, what leads have you got?”

  “Oh, excellent. I have processed my data, and I can trace the GPS of the phone the laptop was accessing the wi fi through.”

  “We have him in prison, we need her.”

  “Yes, I heard, but here’s the thing. The phone is nowhere near the police. The phone went the other way.”r />
  “That’s the sort of detail Jeff might have wanted.”

  “Oh. Yes. Anyway, I have a lead, shall we get moving?”

  Soon the group had packed equipment, leapt into Dee’s car, and started driving through the growing darkness. It was at this point Dee’s phone rang.

  “Hello Array, how are you?”

  “I believe you’re trying to find a serial killer.”

  “Yes, hang on, how did you know that?”

  “I have some information. The police have just received a call, someone has abducted a child on the route between the police station and the current GPS signal.”

  “That’s… that’s really oddly detailed. How do you…okay, the child, you think they’ve got a child?”

  “Yes, I do. Time really is, I believe they say, of the essence.”

  “Thanks, thanks, right.” She put the phone down, and instantly thought she’d forgotten something very important about that conversation, but no matter, “we have to get a shift on,” and she explained.

  Nazir bought the GPS up on his phone and they followed the map out of the city until they came to the crest of a hill, with the signal coming from somewhere close in front of them. Then the signal vanished.

  “What was that?”

  “Err…”

  “We’re nearly there, get it back.”

  “I can’t. It’s gone. Battery must have run out. Fucking mobile phones.”

  Dee peered out of the windscreen. “So, basically, the signal was coming from somewhere in there…” Ahead of them was a wood.

  “Yeah, they’re in the wood, hang on, why are you getting out?”

  “Clock is ticking, child in danger, right? So someone ring Jeff and get him coming, everyone else grab your torch, pick a path, and let’s get through this wood and find this child.”

  “Does this mean you’ll let me out with my construct?”

  “Yes, someone open the boot, you can go a roaming too.”

  Madame Ovary had long since shed that alter ego, and couldn’t believe her luck as she threaded her way down a little track inside the wood, to the forester’s shed she knew lay abandoned before her. The police had acted pretty much as she’d hoped, although she’d been aided by Jenkins having calculated that Smithers was the weak link among the group. He didn’t know she’d take the chance to be rid of him, and finally to do a killing all by herself.