by Oliver Tidy
‘So what are you talking about, then?’
‘She told me she was upstairs, in bed perhaps, when she heard the intruder downstairs. When she says upstairs she means properly upstairs. The staircase must be double the length of the standard that’s put into today’s rabbit hutches, and winding with it. And the height of the ceilings, the thickness of the floors and doors, the construction of the property must make noise harder to hear than normal.’
‘So?’
‘She said she heard the intruder downstairs. But when she went down there nothing had been disturbed and he was just standing there doing nothing. Making no noise.’
‘I see what you’re saying.’
‘I wanted to see how well she hears.’
‘Don’t you believe her now, then? About having an intruder?’
‘Yes, I do. I just wish it all made sense.’
Romney made a noise of sarcastic amusement. ‘If you want sense from life you couldn’t be in a worse job.’
After they each took a mouthful of their drinks, Marsh said, ‘How did Ms Coker really take the news that we’re not taking things further?’
Romney snorted. ‘When I tell you, it’s going to make you feel a whole lot better about being told to clear off by some crotchety old bird.’
*
Grimes provided an attentive, note-taking James Peters with a fuller account of the history of the ghost girl incidents as they drove towards Temple Ewell. Before they parked, the author asked if Grimes would mind driving through the settlement and out the other side, turning around and coming back. He said that as well as wanting to get a complete feel for the place, he particularly wanted to travel in the same direction as the traffic that had been involved in the accidents.
‘Can’t call them accidents these days,’ said Grimes. ‘Suggests that there’s no one to blame. And there’s always someone to blame. We refer to them as RTIs – Road Traffic Incidents.’
Grimes did as James Peters asked and then he did it again, because James asked him to, before bringing the car to a halt outside the row of quaint flint cottages.
Heading in from the other side of the Temple Ewell sign – the direction from which all the incidents had come – they’d seen a large hand-made sign – big, red capital letters on a white background saying: PLEASE SLOW DOWN!
The two men got out of the car and Grimes, who on learning of a possible supernatural involvement had made it his business to discover as much about the details of the incidents as he could, led the author across the road and walked him through what facts he knew of each occurrence.
As they were waiting to re-cross the road, one of the cottage doors opened and an elderly, well-dressed and slightly stooped man stepped out onto the pavement looking like he wanted to talk to them.
As Grimes and the author approached, the man straightened up and said, ‘Mind me asking who you gentleman are from? Or are you just more of those particular individuals with nothing better to do than indulge their macabre interests in our nightmares? If it’s the latter, I’ll kindly ask you to bugger off back to where you came from and spread the word that we don’t want any more attention for what’s going on here.’
Grimes took out and showed his warrant card. He introduced himself and James Peters as a civilian advisor.
‘What sort of advisor?’ said the man, eyeing the author warily.
‘A specialist,’ said Grimes, sounding rather cryptic.
Understanding that was all he was going to get for an answer, the man turned back to Grimes. ‘Detective, you said.’
‘That’s right, sir.’
‘Traffic collisions are uniforms’ job. I know that much. What’s a member of CID doing out here?’
Grimes crinkled his eyes in his fat face and said, ‘Don’t mind me asking, sir, but would you happen to be ex-job?’
‘I don’t mind you asking. The answer’s yes. Uniformed sergeant many years ago. Not from round here though. We moved here for a quiet life. Can’t say it’s been much of that in the last few weeks. Our nerves are all but shredded. The wife has gone to stay with her sister. Can’t bear the waiting.’
‘Waiting for what, sir?’ said Grimes.
‘For the next death. It’s only a matter of time.’
Grimes made a face and a noise of sympathy. ‘Must be awful for you. Especially stuck out here on your own. Must get a bit lonely.’
‘I don’t mind being on my own. But the nights are long. I just lie there listening to the traffic, getting tenser and tenser, waiting for the next one to plough through the trees, maybe explode into flames or something. I tell you, someone’s going to get themselves killed.’
‘Would you like me to make you a strong cup of tea, sir?’ said Grimes. ‘You can tell us all about it.’
The man looked differently at Grimes then. ‘Yeah, all right then.’ He smiled a little. ‘I’m not so old I don’t remember what it’s like to get offered a cuppa by a member of the public you can trust now and again. Back in my day, on my patch, they were few and far between. Most of them’d make you a hot drink just so as they could spit in it. I suppose you’d better come in.’
As Grimes and James followed the man into his home the author sneaked a look at Grimes and got a quick wink in reply.
James mouthed, ‘How did you know he was a policeman?’
‘Spot them a mile off,’ whispered Grimes.
*
A good, strong, hot mug of tea, several chocolate biscuits and nearly an hour later, Grimes and Peter James were back on the road to the station.
‘That’s the trouble with old people,’ said Grimes. ‘They do go on so. Still, him being ex-job made it not as painful as it might have been.’
‘He certainly was well informed,’ said James. ‘I really feel for him. I don’t think I’d be able to carry on living there.’
‘Don’t think he’s got much choice from the sound of it. You heard him – his sister-in-law and him can’t stand the sight of each other and he’s got nowhere else to go.’
‘Pity the man who lost his child wasn’t in. I’d like to have spoken with him.’
‘I’m not sorry,’ said Grimes. ‘I’ve got kids.’
‘Sorry, Peter, I wasn’t thinking.’
‘No problem. You married? Kids?’
‘Divorced. No kids. I’m infertile. I’m not sorry. She left me to have children with someone else.’
‘That sounds tragic. Sorry. My missus reads your stuff. She thinks you write very good sex scenes.’
James Peters laughed. ‘Shall I tell you how my ex-wife used to refer to my sex scenes? The futile product of the fertile imagination of an infertile man.’
Grimes looked across to see if the man was joking. He didn’t think he was.
***
25
In the middle of the afternoon Grimes received the last outstanding reply to his enquiries regarding insurance of the ride-on lawnmowers. Before it came in, he felt confident of the answer. All four previous responses had named the same insurance underwriters of their garden machinery policies.
Romney was locked in his office with strict instructions that he was not to be disturbed unless there was an emergency. Marsh was shut away in the fish tank preparing for court. Spicer had disappeared in search of some paperwork that was missing from his current job.
Only James Peters was available to share the news with. And as the line of enquiry had been his idea, Grimes thought it was fitting he should share it with the author first. Congratulate him.
‘If ever you get fed up with writing fiction for a living, James,’ said Grimes, ‘you could always consider joining the police.’
James Peters had been deep in thought and Grimes’ little speech completely threw him. ‘Pardon?’
‘The lawnmowers. You were right. The insurance policies are all underwritten by the same firm. Looks like we might have our connection.’
‘Really? That’s marvellous, Peter. Are you sure?’
‘Sure about the
connection. Can’t be sure it’s the connection that’ll give us our thieves until I chase it up.’
James Peters put down his pen and gave Grimes his full attention. ‘What will you do?’
Grimes checked his watch. ‘Bit late to follow things up today – I wouldn’t get finished by five. Tomorrow first thing I’ll pay the office a visit. Hopefully start making someone uncomfortable with my enquiries.’
‘It’s local then?’
‘Down on Romney Marsh.’
James Peters started chuckling. ‘Romney Marsh. Romney and Marsh as in...’
‘Yeah,’ said Grimes. ‘The old ones are always the best. I wouldn’t say anything to the boss. He gets a bit touchy about it.’
‘Sorry. I’ve never heard of it.’
‘Back of beyond. The sticks. Think Deliverance meets The Hills Have Eyes, although it’s flat as a pancake.’
‘Could I come with you?’
‘Thought you only had two days with us?’
‘That was the plan. But for this... I’d love to be able to follow it through with you.’
Grimes looked like he wasn’t sure. He said, ‘I’d need to run it by the boss first. Still, it was your idea. If it was up to me, no problem. I doubt they’ll be any trouble.’ In response to James’ questioning look, Grimes said, ‘We have express instructions from on high to keep you out of harm’s way.’
‘I’ll take full responsibility for my own safety.’
‘Let me ask. I’ll let you know.’
*
When Romney emerged from his office later that afternoon, Grimes took the opportunity to speak with him about the lawnmower thefts.
Out of James Peters’ hearing, he said, ‘I’ve uncovered a strong connection between all the thefts, guv.’
Romney’s look bordered on astonished. ‘What is it?’
‘Insurance. All the mowers are insured through the same firm. It’s in Dymchurch, Romney Marsh.’
‘Really? I’ve driven through there a few times. I thought it was all honky-tonk amusements and chip shops.’
‘That’s where the paper trail ends, guv. Could be nothing, of course, but I’d like to go down and speak with them. Face to face rather than over the phone.’
‘All right.’ Romney looked at his watch.
Grimes said, ‘Too late today, obviously. Thought I’d go in the morning.’ Romney nodded. ‘I was talking to James about it. He asked if he could come along. Just for the ride.’
Romney thought for a moment and said, ‘I thought today was his last day with us?’
‘It is. He just wants to see Romney Marsh, I think.’
‘I don’t see why not. But remember what our leader said: keep him out of harm’s way.’
Grimes beamed. ‘I’ll protect him with my life, guv.’
*
Towards the end of the working day, James Peters asked if he might speak to CID as a group. It was arranged. He said, ‘That’s my couple of official days with CID at an end. I really wish it could have been longer. I just wanted to say that I’ve had a great and really useful time and been made to feel very welcome. Thank you, everyone.’
They all looked pleased with his remarks.
‘You know I’m staying at the Premier Inn. I’d be really honoured if you all came along for a drink, maybe something to eat tonight. I can put it on my expenses.’
Grimes was the first to respond. ‘That’s very kind of you, James. I’ll be there.’
‘I’ll need to talk to the wife,’ said Spicer.
James said, ‘Joy?’
‘I’d love to but my... significant other is coming over tonight.’
‘Bring him along. I’d love to meet him.’
‘OK. I’ll see what he says. Thanks.’
They all looked at Romney. ‘Sure. What time?’
‘How about straight after work?’ said James.
***
26
After a brief conversation between James Peters and the restaurant duty manager, the group were offered the far end of the dining area for their exclusive use.
While they waited at the bar for the furniture to be moved, Grimes said, ‘How did you manage that? Last time me and the wife brought the kids here for dinner they could hardly be bothered to say hello.’
James said, ‘I told them Dover CID were looking for a venue for their Christmas bash and they could consider this evening an opportunity to impress for the business.’
With tables and chairs arranged, James Peters, true to his word, opened a tab and repeated that whatever they wanted was on his publishers. Before they ordered, they discussed the idea of having a designated driver.
‘Don’t look at me,’ said Joy. ‘I only live over the road. I can crawl home from here. Or Justin can carry me. And while the rest of you are arguing over it, I’ll have a large white wine, please, James.’
Grimes hoped that because he had been the unlucky person on their last after-work drink together he might be excused the role. Spicer hoped that as his wife had actually allowed him to stay out as long as he liked for a change that the others might take pity on him and allow him a chance to let down what remained of his hair.
Because the discussion had to run its course and she’d been there before, many times, and knew it would probably take several minutes’ of arguing, Marsh stood and moved away from the group to call Justin – check he was still coming. As she waited for him to pick up, she believed she saw James Meakins mooching about the foyer. She wondered what he was doing there. She doubted that the Premier Inn was going on the market.
Romney had not disclosed to his team that he was temporarily off the booze. As an uncertain silence descended on the table, waiting to see if it would be broken by one of the drivers selflessly declaring that he would forgo an evening of free alcohol, he flirted with the idea of giving himself a night off – a reward for his good behaviour so far. But remembering his recent failure and self-disappointment over the cigarettes, he nudged the devil aside and said, ‘I’ll drive.’
To the two remaining members of his team sitting down, the offer without an argument was something to make them exchange unguarded looks of amazement.
Romney noticed and said, ‘What? I can take my turn.’
Grimes and Spicer exchanged happy faces, ordered pints and then remembered to say thanks to him.
When her call was finished, Joy looked again through the wall of glass for James Meakins but he was gone. Maybe it had just been someone who looked like him. She returned to the table to have her attention immediately taken up with the topic of conversation.
‘The way the usage and abusage of the English language is going, I’m sure it won’t be long before any word can be used as a verb,’ said James.
‘What about sausage?’ said Spicer.
Grimes said, ‘You keep looking at me like that I’ll sausage you.’
Spicer said, ‘Promises, promises. Wall.’
Grimes said, ‘Wall him up.’
Spicer said, ‘Shelf.’
Grimes said, ‘Shelf it.’
Romney said, ‘Don’t you mean shelve it?’
Grimes said, ‘No, guv. Shelf it. As in, what can I do with that bare wall? Shelf it.’
Spicer said, ‘Cell, as in prison.’
Grimes said, ‘Actually, if you’d like to look it up you might just find that “cell” can be used at a verb.’ He chuckled. ‘When I was a probationer we had this duty sergeant who used to call prisoners cell-fish.’
A thoughtful silence descended to match their thoughtful expressions. It was interrupted only by Spicer noisily sipping his pint and Grimes breaking into a bag of crisps.
‘Typical,’ said James. ‘Can never think of these things when you need to.’
Romney said, ‘Table.’ And instantly regretted it.
They all looked at him. Through a mouthful of cheese and onion, Grimes said, ‘Table’s been a verb for as long as I can remember, guv. Keep up.’
‘Table a motion,’ said Spicer.
Grimes said, ‘I hope no one is going to table a motion. I’m eating.’
Both Grimes and Spicer burst out laughing. The other three exchanged bewildered glances.
To James, Marsh said, ‘You can bet if they’re the only two laughing it’s something to do with toilets.’
Spicer said, ‘Remember Boney M? I always thought it weird them topping the charts singing show me your motion.
Grimes said, ‘They brought a whole new meaning to scat music.’
Spicer and Grimes were off again. It could have been the rapid consumption of free beer on empty stomachs
‘So, James,’ said Romney, ‘has your short stay with Dover CID been a productive one?’
‘Definitely, Tom. It’s been both interesting and informative. Also, as well as providing valuable background material for the book I’m working on, my visit has given me an idea for a future novel.’
Romney was happy to be talking books and ideas with a real author. ‘You feel able to share?’
‘Of course, it’s not like anyone at this table has any writing aspirations, is it? No one’s going to steal my material.’
They all laughed. One of them quite forcedly.
‘It’s about this business with the ghost girl.’
Marsh stole a look at Romney’s reaction to a term he’d vetoed at work, but he seemed genuinely interested in what James Peters had to say.
‘I don’t mind admitting that I’m both intrigued and fascinated by it. Four incidents in a month, all those directly involved making the same claims i.e. they all saw a young girl in the middle of the road. I asked to see the statements taken by officers who attended the scenes. In each case, the descriptions of the girl are very similar. And I’m sure that I don’t have to tell anyone around this table that in itself is quite remarkable. Findings of academic studies regarding the accuracy of eye-witness testimony to traumatic events are pretty generally scathing regarding its reliability, particularly when it comes to physical descriptions. You’ll all know, probably from experience, how members of the public who’ve borne witness to a crime can misremember events and people. And when you factor in that those involved in these collisions were obviously not expecting to see a girl in the road – and would have been catapulted into blind panic and total confusion for the glimpse they would have been able to get of her before having to take evasive action – the similarity of descriptions becomes even more extraordinary. The icing on this particularly mysterious cake, if you’ll forgive the expression, is the death of a young girl in exactly the same place only a few months ago. You’re aware, I suppose that the descriptions of the girl who died are a close match for the descriptions of the apparition?’
