by Sean Stone
It seemed that Matt and Emma’s good fortune had rubbed off at least a little on me. The following morning I received a call from a prospective customer. He wouldn’t tell me anything about what he wanted. I find secretive people very suspicious these days; ever since Shay and his pal did me out of a shed load of magic. I like to know who I’m dealing with before I walk into a meeting now. I insisted on getting the guys name and then called Matt so he could do a quick background check. The bloke was Derek Cook and he was the chairman of the Mote Park Fellowship, an organisation responsible for the maintaining of Mote Park. At least that was what Matt said they did. Either way Derek didn’t seem to be a threat so I arranged to meet him in my usual spot at Muggs.
As I walked down the stairs I heard my land lady Doris nattering about something with her son Gavin. I’ll warn you now that their conversations are always fairly odd, that’s something I’ve gotten used to over the last few years I’ve been living with them. There’s never a dull moment with Doris and Gavin. There’s rarely a pleasant one either.
“It feels horrible, Mum. I felt it with my hand and it was all lumpy,” Gavin whined. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. I really did not want to know what he was referring to.
“Oh, it’s probably nothing,” Doris replied. Doris isn’t actually her name but I can’t remember her real name so I’ve just known her as Doris for pretty much my entire tenure in her house.
“It even hurts when I fart,” Gavin replied. Despite the fact that he was in his thirties he sounded like a teenager. He behaved like one too.
“Oh, let’s have a look then,” said Doris.
Now despite the odd nature of that conversation I was still unprepared for the sight that greeted me when I walked into the living room. Weird conversations are the norm in this house. This sight was not. Doris was sitting on the edge of the sofa looking at her son who was bent over in front of her with his trousers and boxer shorts around his ankles. Yes, she was actually examining his arsehole.
“Oh,” I said and froze in the doorway. I needed to pass through the living room to get to the front door but every instinct was telling me to turn back. What made the whole situation worse was that both of them looked up and saw me and neither one of them showed even an inkling of shame.
“Alright, Eddie?” Gavin said as if his cock and bollocks weren’t dangling in clear view and his anus wasn’t in his mother’s face.
“Not too bad, Gavin, thanks,” I said automatically. “Yourself?”
“I’m having a bit of trouble,” He said and jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his arse.
“Looks like your anus has turned inside out,” Doris said from behind him. She moved her glasses further up her nose and squinted at the sight before her.
“Sounds like piles,” I said. I don’t know why I contributed but I did. And then I hastily got out of there before they made me have a look. Gavin is not the cleanest of people and even if he was I still would not want to examine his arsehole. No thank you.
The landlord of Muggs, Bobby, didn’t say much to me anymore. He never said much as it was but since I’d stopped spending as much of my time, and money, in his pub he spoke to me even less. He still sent a lovely cup of tea over to my booth though. Who drinks tea in a pub? I do, get over it. I tested it with my magic thermometer and then slurped it down. Some people say it’s disgusting but I think you just can’t enjoy a cup of tea without slurping it at least a little. A couple of the patrons nearby gave me dirty looks because of my slurping but I just stared them right in the eye and slurped louder. I let out a hearty exhale as I placed my cup down, just to really dig the heel in.
It wasn’t long before Derek turned up. I spotted him right away because of the way he walked in. He came in all hunched over and looking around shiftily as if he was scared to be seen by anyone. To be honest, a lot of my customers do that at first. He looked around until he saw me waving him over and then he shuffled over to my booth and slid into the seat across from me. He was an old man, at least fifty. Some people might not think that’s old but I do and since it’s my story my opinion is the only one that matters. He had dark grey hair and huge bushy eyebrows to match. I mean really bushy. Something could be living in them.
“Edward Lancaster?” he asked with his bushy eyebrows raised high.
“It’s Eddie actually. I take it you’re Derek Cook?” I asked. I took another slurp of tea.
“I am, but nobody can know about this meeting,” he said in a hushed voice. He looked around nervously again.
“High profile character are you?” I mocked. If there’s one thing that tickles me it’s people thinking they’re more than they really are. The sooner Derek realised that nobody cared who he was or what he was up to the sooner we could get on with this. The thing is, Muggs is a favourite venue for the supernaturals in Maidstone. Everybody here had their own business to worry about and none of them cared about what I was up to in the corner.
“Not me, but I am here on behalf of…” he looked around to make sure nobody was listening. He paused to look at someone. I followed his eye line and saw an attractive blonde sitting at a table with who I assumed was her boyfriend. “She’s a bit of alright isn’t she?” he said turning back to me. He no longer looked nervous; he was smiling lasciviously.
“I suppose so,” I agreed. She was alright, as he put it, but she wasn’t why we were here.
“Do you think she takes it up the dirt track?” he asked at the very moment I took in a gulp of tea. I struggled not to cough it back up.
“What?” I said, once I’d managed to swallow it.
He looked at me as if I was a moron. “The arse. Do you think she takes it up the arse?”
“No, I understood what you meant I just… Who are you here for?” I snapped, not wanting to get into that with the dirty old man. I’m no prude but he is not the sort of person I wanted to discuss that with.
He leaned in a little closer. Back on topic. “I’m here on behalf of Maidstone Borough Council. For obvious reasons they can’t be caught doing business with you,” he said.
“Of course not,” I said. Still wondering what he actually wanted but he had managed to snare my interest.
“So a member of the council came to me,” He puffed his chest out self-importantly. “And asked me to act on her behalf.”
“And what exactly does this councillor want from me?” I inquired.
“Have you heard of the disappearances at Mote Park?” he asked.
“I have.” Over the last week or so four or more people had gone missing. The police were on the case but no pattern had emerged between the victims yet and no evidence as to where they’d gone. I’d read that in the KM News. It made a nice change from the usual boring bollocks the paper printed.
“My contact would like you to investigate and sort out this matter,” he said.
“It’s not really my area. Missing persons should probably be left to the police,” I said. I could cast a spell to find the people and it would be easy enough but it seemed odd that the council would come to me.
“We believe that this is a supernatural matter,” he said in a whisper.
“Really? And why is that?” I asked. I was quickly losing interest.
“We found weird things. It’d be easier to show you I think,” he said in that same quiet whisper.
“Alright then, but I charge a sixty pound consultation fee. Up front,” I told him.
“I have been given funds for this matter.” He took out a pile of money from his inside pocket and counted out sixty funds in five pound notes before handing them to me. Irritating fool. I was starting to get the impression that I wasn’t going to like Derek very much. Why was it all in five pound notes?
“Let’s go then. I take it you’ll give me a lift?” I said as we both got up.
“What about your car?” he asked.
“I don’t have a car. I don’t drive.”
“You don’t drive?” he said in genuine amazement as if I’d just told him I prefer to travel everywhere upside down. “Why not?”
“I’ve never really needed to,” I said. It was a question I’d never considered before. Nobody had ever asked nor reacted with such shock. Anyone would think I’d told him I was a former nazi.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” he asked. I have no idea how the two matters were connected but according to Derek they were.
“No,” I replied. If there’s one thing I hate it’s being asked questions especially if those questions are of a personal nature. And even more especially if I don’t even like the person asking them.
“You’re not gay are you?” he said, turning his nose up. I was right, I didn’t like him.
“No, not that that matters,” I replied, not bothering to contain my annoyance not that he even seemed to notice it. How he could go from finding out I don’t have a car to assuming I was gay was beyond me.
“Good. Because I tell you there is nothing better than going down on a woman. I like to give my wife a service at least twice a week and let me tell you—”
“Shall we go then,” I said quickly and headed for the door. He carried on with his vulgar one-sided discussion all the way to his car and most of the way to Mote Park.
Derek had finally shut up by the time we arrived at the park which was good because I was on the verge of shutting him up myself — in a somewhat permanent way. I probably knew more about his sex life by the time we got there than I did about my own. A disturbing thought, I know.
“Why hasn’t the park been closed with all these disappearances?” I asked as he led me across the grass. It seemed like the logical thing for the police or council to do under the circumstances.
“They think it will spread panic if a big park like this closes up in the summer,” Derek said.
“Panic because people can’t come here?” I asked dubiously. “I’m sure they’ll find another park.” Mote Park really isn’t that great.
“If we close the park then people will think we can’t handle the situation,” Derek said.
“You can’t. That’s why I’m here,” I told him with just a hint of smugness.
He stopped near a tree and pointed about half way up it. I looked at the place he was pointing and saw that a symbol had been carved into the bark. It was a circle containing a pentacle and inside the pentacle were five arrows all pointing at its centre. In my experience only amateurs used symbols which involved pentacles. Those who knew what they were doing tended to go for more elegant symbols. I touched the symbol with just my index finger and the power radiating from it nearly repelled me. I took a step back from the tree in shock. There was real power in that engraving. Not the sort an amateur would have.
“How many of these are there?” I asked.
“I’ve counted four,” Derek replied.
“You’ve got a supernatural issue, alright. I have no idea what it is. I’ve never seen this symbol before and I don’t know what it’s doing,” I told him. Like magic, symbols can be bent to the will of the practitioner. The pentacle was just a symbol of power, it was the spell behind it and the rest of the symbol which were doing the real work. This was a puzzle that I had to solve. Missing people. No evidence. Weird symbols that held more power than they should. How could I resist? “My hourly rate is thirty pounds an hour which is more than generous and I need to know what to do when I catch whoever or whatever is responsible for this?”
“What do you mean?” Derek asked nervously.
“Do you want me to catch to kill?” I clarified. “Either way there’s an additional charge. Five-hundred if you want it caught, one thousand to kill.” One thousand is quite low to kill but when I created the list it was based on creatures not people. A magical symbol was most like left by a person. Since killing Killian I’d learned that I could kill without remorse so killing whoever was reasonable for this would be no problem.
“I need to call my contact,” he said and hurried off to make a phone call. I watched him speaking on the phone for ten minutes or there about before he returned.
“She’s agreed to your fee and she wants it dead. It’s too complicated having a supernatural thing caught,” he said.
“Okay, I’ll need two-hundred and fifty up front then,” I said.
He reached into his pocket and took out the money again. There was no way he had enough to cover my hourly rate in that bundle of notes. The councillor would have to give him more. He handed me the pile of fives and I put it in my pocket.
“There is one problem,” he said quietly. “We can’t call the police off. We don’t have the authority. You’ll have to do your investigation whilst they do theirs.”
I smiled. “That’s fine by me. I do like a bit of spice being added to the pot.” Just as long as Inspector Richards wasn’t on the case. “I’ll give you call once I’ve figured out how I want to do this,” I said and then headed for the gates. This was a good job and if it went on for long enough then I could make a tidy profit out of it. Not that I was planning on dragging it out unnecessarily. Not much anyway.
My brilliant mood was shot to sunshine when I left the park and saw Inspector Richards leaning against his car waiting for me. “Eddie,” he said jubilantly. “I think we need to have another chat.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“Have you actually got an arrest warrant this time?” I asked. There was no way I was being carted down the station again. Not unless I had no choice.
He smiled. “No warrant, Eddie. I’ve just got a few questions. Why don’t you walk with me?” he suggested and then headed in the direction of the park which I’d just left. I could have ignored him and walked away but you know me, I’m a curious fellow and I had to find out what he wanted this time. So I followed him.
“How did you know I was here?” I asked. He was obviously following me but I wanted to hear him say it.
“I’m keeping tabs on you. Until I can cross you off as a suspect,” he said. Not an exact admission but good enough. “I’ve got to say I find it interesting to find you here at another crime scene,” he said, eyebrows raised.
“So now you think I’m kidnapping people from Mote Park too?”
“Well, you tell me. Luckily, this isn’t one of my cases,” he replied. He already thought I’d been kidnapping people — which I was — so I suppose it wasn’t a huge jump to link me to these disappearances too. “There was a murder last night. Double,” he said conversationally. I tried not to think about the two bodies on the sofa.
“And you think I did that too?” I asked.
“You betcha,” he replied sincerely. He fixed me with a questioning stare as if he thought I might confess on the spot.
“Seriously? Are you gonna try and pin every crime in Maidstone on me?” I asked with incredulity.
“If I have evidence that points to you then I absolutely will,” he replied. “A man fitting your description was spotted at the crime scene. Running from it.” He gave me that stare again and I looked away. I probably looked guilty but, as you know, I wasn’t. I just didn’t relish in the memory of the crime scene. It was too reminiscent.
“There’s probably a lot of people who look like me in Maidstone, Inspector,” I said quietly. It wasn’t much of a defence but I didn’t really need one because he didn’t have any evidence. Only speculation. Otherwise he would have come with a warrant.
“Indeed.” We went into the cafe as we were passing and he got a coffee to go. He did the polite thing and offered me one but I declined. I don’t like coffee and I like it even less when an enemy pays for it. Not that I really considered him to be an enemy. He disliked me but I didn’t really have any reason to dislike him. He was only doing his job and evidence had led him to me. Plus, I did kill Killian Myers. And I did kidnap some people. He was wrong about the rest, though. Still, I could hardly begrudge him for doing his civic duty.
“So, where were you last night?” he sa
id once we were back outside and walking across the grass.
“I was at a party,” I replied. I was a little distracted by one of the mystical symbols on a tree across the field. Derek hadn’t shown me that one. It was hard to see through the kids football game that was between us and it, though, and it might not have been a symbol at all.
“All night?”
“Uh, no. I went home…” I actually had no idea when I went home. “I’m not sure when I left, actually.”
“How terribly convenient for you,” Richards said. He jotted something down in his notepad before tucking back into his breast pocket.
“Ask the hosts, they might remember,” I told him. My alibi would probably show that I could have been at the crime scene at whatever time I’d been spotted, but it would also show that I was not at the scene at the time of the murder. By the looks of the scene the murders had taken place at least an hour before I turned up. Assuming that magic hadn’t been used to tamper with the scene.
“And they are?” Richards took out his notepad and pen again. Without a police uniform he just looked like a reporter. Albeit a big burly one.
“Matt Stoker and Emma Kessler.” I gave him their address.
“I will check that out,” he told me. He said it as though it were a threat.
“I was assuming you would. It is your job after all,” I said and gave him one of my irritating grins. Clearly, he was not impressed.
“One day very soon I am going to wipe that smile right off your face Edward Lancaster. We’ll see who’s smiling then. When you’re on the other side of the prison wall.” His eyes bore angrily into my own and for just a second I lost my temper. A second was all it took. The kids playing football were taken by surprise when their ball suddenly shot away from them, soared through the air and smashed right into Inspector Richards’ coffee, knocking the cup from his hand and the scolding fluid all over his face. He screamed in pain as the hot liquid soaked him and he jumped back. He glared menacingly at me, panting through his pain. For a moment it seemed as if he knew it was me but then he regained his senses and came to the conclusion that I could not possibly have done it. He turned to the kids instead.
