by steve higgs
‘Please come in.’ He ushered with his left hand to the two chairs we had sat in yesterday. ‘Work stuff.’ he said gesturing to the phone by way of explanation.
Amanda took the chair nearest the desk, but I picked the other one up and moved it across to the other side of the room, so we now formed a vee in front of his desk and he would have to swing his head back and forth to speak with us like he was watching tennis. I wondered if he would object, at which point I would have claimed a headache and wanted my back to the light from his window. However, if the change bothered him, he gave no indication.
‘Mr. Barker.' I began, all professional polish applied. ‘I believe you wish to engage our services to catch the Phantom.'
He squirmed a little in his seat. ‘Yes, yes I do. But look, I wish to go on record stating that there is no bloody Phantom haunting this steel mill. However, there is someone playing bloody silly games and I want them caught.'
‘You think it a simple act of vandalism from a member of staff? Or could this be something more sinister than that?’ I asked.
‘Such as what?’
‘Are there rival mills that want you out of business? Is the sabotage to your equipment actually to cover up a different crime?’ I watched as his face coloured slightly. It was momentary, and I had to commend him for his control. Yet the involuntary reaction was definitely there.
‘No. I mean, I don’t know.’ he stuttered. ‘This is why I need you to investigate and find the culprit, the criminal. Whatever. That is what you do, isn’t it?’
‘The police do not have the resources to commit to crimes of this nature.’ Amanda said.
‘So, in essence, yes. This is what we do.' I answered. ‘I will find your Phantom, Mr. Barker. But I will need full access to freely move around every area of the Mill and may need to bring in a team. Can you make arrangements for this?'
He reached for his phone and when a voice answered he instructed them to fetch someone to his office. He had said the name, but I did not catch it. He put the phone down, the conversation clearly over and looked back at me. ‘You will need to inform me when you plan to be here so that I can alert security.’
I spent the next few minutes going through my standard explanation of fees and expenses. I made it clear that the very nature of the case and its mysterious circumstances made the length of time it would take to reach a conclusion unpredictable. This was the first time Amanda had heard my speech and I noticed that she was taking hurried notes.
‘Is there anything else I need to know, Mr. Barker? Anything you think might be relevant? Any suspicion you may have as to who might be responsible or why?'
He gave it a second or so with his head down in thought. His decision though was that there was nothing he could think of. I noted that I could not see what his face was doing when he put his head down.
I slipped my notebook and pen back into my bag and got up to leave. Amanda did likewise, and Brett came around his desk once more to shake our hands.
‘I wonder if I might detain you for a moment, Miss Harper?’ he said.
She looked at me instead of answering, I was not sure what I was supposed to say. I didn’t own her, and she didn’t need my protection.
‘I'll be outside.' I said over my shoulder as I went out the door. Brett closed it behind me.
A moment later the door opened again, and Amanda came out. I glanced in the room to see Brett retreating behind his desk then got moving down the corridor as Amanda had not waited for me and I was several paces behind.
Desperately curious about what Brett had wanted to see her in private for, I kept my mouth shut and played it cool, hoping she would tell me anyway.
Cool guy, that’s me alright.
Putting my phone away in my bag, I walked into a doorframe.
‘Are you alright?’ Amanda asked, a quizzical eyebrow raised.
‘Yup.’ I was rubbing my head where I had hit it.
‘Brett asked me out.' Amanda informed me matter-of-factly. 'I am not sure why he felt he needed to do that in private.'
Same reason I would, I thought. ‘So that when you knock him back, he does not have to have others see it happen.’
‘I said yes.’
Nuts.
‘But only after the cases are concluded. He is one of the primary suspects after all.’
‘That he is.’ I agreed, hoping desperately that he was guilty.
‘Cute though.’
I hated him.
We exited the building on our way back to the car and went back through reception, so we could hand over our badges and sign out once more in the visitors' book. I had forgotten about the press though and two steps into reception we were spotted and then recognised. I watched the realisation spread as the first person saw me, nudge the chap next to him who then grabbed the lady with the microphone in her hand and suddenly they swung into action as one lump because they suddenly had a new angle to their story. It took two seconds and I had nowhere to hide.
‘Tempest Michaels.' yelled the lady in the suit with the microphone, trying to get my attention as I returned my badge. ‘Tempest Michaels.' she called again when I did not instantly respond.
I handed the badge to the lady behind reception, noting that it was the same lady every time I came in and wondered how many hours she worked. I resigned myself to my fate and turned around to face the reporter. Over her shoulder, I saw that the other crew of reporters were outside the glass front of reception and had also spotted me.
‘Yes. It is I.' I said with a touch of flamboyance. I had no idea how to handle reporters, so I was guessing that if I gave them some cooperation, they might treat me kindly. I was probably fooling myself. ‘How may I assist you?'
The microphone was thrust in my face while a chap with a boom brought another one to hover above my face and a third chap with a shoulder mounted camera lined up to shoot the event. ‘Are you here to catch the Phantom?’ the lady asked. She was mid to late twenties and quite petite. Her attire was camera ready business suit and good coat and she was attractive while wearing minimal makeup.
‘You have me at a loss, you appear to know my name, but forgot to introduce yourself.’
‘Sarah Gainsworth, Channel Six news. Are you investigating the Phantom, Mr. Michaels?' She appeared to be all about hurrying and I then realised why: The other team of reporters was setting up now just behind them and she wanted an exclusive.
‘I can confirm that I have been engaged to investigate the Phantom of Barker Mill.’ I answered calmly.
‘What do you think the Phantom is?’ she asked next.
‘I expect the Phantom is a man.’ My simple answer. ‘There will be no ghostly apparition at the conclusion to this case, just a man in a costume.’
‘Then how do you explain the one-hundred-year history of sightings, attacks, and unexplained events?'
‘It is quite simple. Someone partly glimpses a figure, there is a strange or unexplained incident, a shadow is seen for a moment only and can be anything. The legend of the Barker Mill Phantom is just one example of people making an explanation for something they have seen and not been able to explain. The Loch Ness Monster is perhaps the best-known example of this phenomenon.'
The second squad shoved their version of Sarah Gainsworth forward and a fresh microphone was thrust under my chin. ‘How soon will you catch the Phantom?’ she asked.
I flapped my mouth for a second trying to form my next sentence… and then a fight broke out. Looking back, I am not sure exactly what the catalyst was. I think one cameraman got in front of the other cameraman, and when one shoved the other, someone else got knocked and it pretty much descended into a pitched battle from there.
I felt a tug on my shirt sleeve and turned to see Amanda. She was pulling me away from the action and any foolish idea I might have to sort it out.
‘Let’s go.’ she mouthed at me. So, we did. Leaving the camera crews to their business.
Amanda ran for her car, plipping it open as
she went, and we piled in. I don't know if evasive driving is standard police training, but she nailed the pedal and had us out of the car park like she was driving a stunt car in the Italian Job. Half a mile later she calmed it down and settled in with the traffic on the bypass around Dartford.
‘That ever happen to you before?’ she asked.
‘Goodness me, which bit? The crazy fighting to get to me? The being recognised? Or the being interviewed by the press? Because no to the first two and yes to the last. That was something of a surprise.’
‘Okay.’ she said, eyes on the road. ‘I supposed your picture got put about quite a bit last week with the vampire thing.’
‘I assume that is why they recognised me.’
‘Something to be prepared for in future I guess.’
Publicity. I had read once that there was no such things as bad publicity but I doubted that was actually true.
We fell into silence which extended for a few minutes before I felt the need to strike up a conversation.
‘You have a shift this afternoon, do you not?’
‘I do. Three o’clock to midnight.’ The hours sounded decidedly unfriendly to me.
‘Do you want to drop me back at the office? I will get stuck into the Phantom case I think.’
‘What will you do?’ she asked.
‘I am not sure. There is something screwy going on at the Mill, but unlike many of my cases, there is no obvious explanation that I can see yet. This will all be the work of one person, almost certainly someone motivated to put the Mill out of business or something. It could be someone with a grudge against the Barker family. I believe I will need to stake out the Mill itself at night, my hope with that strategy is that I will get lucky and catch someone in the act. But I will be interviewing a lot of staff in a bid to expose any little secrets, get a general impression of how the staff feels – the underlying current if you like. I think I will start though with Owen Larkin. Something about him is off so I will watch him for a while.
‘He was not telling us the truth, that is for sure.’ Amanda agreed.
‘I also need to keep going with the investigation into the death of George Barker. We are being paid to find out whether he did die of natural causes and what part the Phantom might have played, so I will be making daily reports to Mrs. Barker.'
‘What is your gut telling you? Was he murdered?'
‘Yes, I think so. Quite cleverly though and I don't yet have the slightest idea how. I cannot work out if the burnt handprint on the doorframe of his office is a red herring or if it means something. It is the bit that I cannot fit to anything else. Was it intentional and left there by the killer? Or opportunistic and left there by someone acting independently? Or did someone leave it there as deliberate misdirection?'
‘The coroner recorded the death as natural causes. You will need a solid case to prove otherwise.’
‘I have no doubt you are right. Why was he not taking his heart meds though? He had a bad heart and a stressful, demanding job. It could be called suicide if he was doing it intentionally.’
‘One has to ask who had most to benefit from his death. Motivation and opportunity will guide us, just the same as it will in the Phantom case.’
‘I agree. That puts your future boyfriend Brett firmly in the frame though.’
Amanda turned her head to look at me. Her expression was surprise mixed with displeasure. She was reacting to me referring to Brett as her future boyfriend and she was right. I was being childish.
‘Sorry.’ I said, looking at her now instead of the road ahead of us. ‘That was daft. I don’t know why I said it.’
‘Tempest.’
‘Yes?’
‘I have a question.’
‘Okay.’
‘Do you fancy me?’ The question was asked softly like she was trying to be kind to a small child and extract a truth they might not give up if they thought it would land them in trouble.
My face coloured. I had no idea how to answer the question. I wanted to blurt out the truth: that I was utterly, utterly besotted by her, but I couldn't get my lips to move.
‘I ask because I saw that you have me listed on your phone as PC Hotstuff.’
Oh, God.
‘And I catch you looking at me – like, a lot.’
Ground swallow me now.
I was staring at the carpet trying to form a coherent sentence. Beside me in the driver's seat, both physically and metaphorically, Amanda kept quiet and waited for me to answer.
I finally found some gumption. ‘I. I, ah. The PC Hotstuff thing I put into my phone when I didn't know your name. I never got around to changing it.' This bit was true. ‘But… I find you attractive. It would be ridiculous for me to deny it, I guess. I am a single heterosexual man and you are a very attractive single woman and, honestly, it didn't help when you kissed me.'
‘I kissed you?’ she was frowning, trying to remember having done so.
‘In my house. In front of my mother. Remember?’
‘Oh. Oh, yes. But that was just a peck on the lips to trick your mother.’
Try telling Mr. Wriggly that.
‘I am a man. We are easily confused.’ I was still struggling to express myself but needed to regain some control of the situation. ‘Look. This is not going to be an issue. I had a totally normal reaction to meeting an attractive woman. We work together now. We didn’t then. Things have changed.’
‘Are you attracted to… sorry, I cannot remember her name. The girl from the coffee shop.’
‘Hayley? Mr. Wriggly is.'
‘Mr. Wriggly?'
Oh, shitty death. I just said that out loud.
‘Who is…’ she tailed off as her cheeks started to flush. ‘Oh. Silly question.’ She said putting two and two together. ‘I have never heard of one called that before.’
I considered just getting out of the car. We were doing seventy miles per hour, but it still seemed to be a better option than staying where I was.
‘It won’t be a problem.’ I said again.
The rest of the journey was quiet and uncomfortable. As she dropped me off by my car we both sort of mumbled a goodbye and avoided looking at one another. She did not look back as she drove off. I stood in the car park pondering my life. I would not indulge myself enough to allow self-pity in, but I was a little miffed at how unable I was to manage something as simple as my own love life. I had finally ended my dry spell only hours ago. The woman involved was an absolute delight, but even trying my damnedest, I could not shift my infatuation with Amanda. I had intended to keep it under wraps, but she was savvy enough to see through me. Perhaps though, what I thought passed for calm, suaveness came across as dribbling stupidity to Amanda.
Amanda was… I didn’t even have the words. There were women everywhere and she stood out like a beacon in the dark among them. She could have any man she wanted, and I suppose Brett Barker was proving that point. He was better looking than me, a little younger, a little trimmer and a multi-millionaire with his own helicopter. He probably had his own plane and private island as well. It was a package I could not compete with. Finding evidence to prove he had killed his grandfather might not make Amanda fall into my arms but it felt like a good idea anyway.
I headed up to my office. I was going to get my teeth into this case and crack it. I was going to put thoughts of Amanda out of my mind and I was going to be the man I wanted to be, dammit. Then maybe I would deserve Amanda.
I sat at my desk and plotted a brief plan of what I would do for the next few days. The plan would be reactive depending on what I found out along the way.
My first task was to stake out Owen Larkin. Then tonight I would stake out the Mill. Tomorrow, I would meet with Mrs. Barker and ask her about the other person her husband had considered as the alterative heir to the Mill.
I checked my watch, did some mental calculation and headed home to walk the dogs.
Staking out Owen Larkin. Monday, 11th October 1402hrs
I parke
d my car across the street from Owen Larkin's house and wondered, not for the first time if my car was too distinctive for being unobtrusive. Bright red, sleek and sporty, the 2009 Porsche Boxster S with a full Porsche body kit and a big spoiler on its back end, was a car I would glance at or would remember having seen. Maybe I needed a Ford or a Vauxhall so that I could blend in better. Too late now though, so I sat in my car and watched his house.
This was not my first stake out, but I had only felt the need to commit to them a handful of times before. I was thankful for this as they are boring, and I have a natural inclination to go to sleep, making the very act of staking someone or somewhere out quite pointless. However, there was something off about Owen Larkin and I wanted to devote some time to watching him.
His car was parked on the road in front of his house. I had found out what car he owned by getting Amanda to do a quick search. The police have access to some very useful information. If his car was there, I expected that he would be also but there was nothing happening, so I waited.
To pass the time I called Frank.
‘Tempest.’ he answered. ‘Unexpected pleasure. What can I do for you?’
‘Good afternoon, Frank. What do you know about the Phantom of Barker Mill?’ I asked.
‘Ooh, research.' he responded excitedly. ‘It is not a subject I have read much about although it does appear in a few books I have on my shelf. Britain's most haunted buildings by Edgar Toomly has a section about it. I shall see what can find and get back to you.'
‘Thank you, Frank.’
‘Will you be in later?’
‘I’m not sure what my movements might be, so you will be best to call first.’
Frank disconnected, and I went back to staring out of my window hopelessly hoping something would happen. I took to theorising what had might have happened when there had been a Phantom attack. Old Sam had told me about his mate Barry and Mr. Miller the shift supervisor. That particular incident was over fifty years ago now, so the trail was quite cold, but Old Sam's mate might still be alive and able to answer questions. I doubted I would be able to delve much further back than that and still be able to find persons to interview so it was my oldest available incident and as such formed a start point of sorts.
