Blue Moon Investigations series Boxed Set 1

by steve higgs

  ‘Hello, Susan.’ I soothed. The dog looked at me impassively. I reached out to stroke its ear, believing that it would either let me do so and perhaps I could slowly convince it to open its mouth, or it would see me as a threat, spit out Mr Collins and bite my face off.

  Thankfully it went with option one. I scratched its right ear and cooed at it. ‘Perhaps you should drop the torch, Mr Collins.’ I suggested. He was still gripping it hard in his hand despite the dog’s mouth around his wrist. He did so, the torch clunking onto earth worn hard by countless heavy vehicles rolling over it.

  ‘Did I miss something?’ asked Big Ben from behind me.

  ‘Kind of. How are you feeling?’ I enquired.

  ‘Who are you people?’ asked Mr Collins still hanging from the dog’s mouth.

  Ignoring him Big Ben replied to my question ‘I have a fuzzy head and I can taste twiglets, but otherwise I appear to be fine.’

  ‘Can you check out Malcolm while I catch you up then, mate? He took a nasty blow to the back of his head.’

  Big Ben knelt to examine the inert form of Malcolm. ‘He’s alive. Got a cracking lump on the side of his skull though and it is bleeding quite convincingly.’ he advised after a few moments of scrutiny.

  ‘Call an ambulance please, Ben.’ I think it’s time we wrapped this up.

  The dog continued to hold Mr Collins between his teeth. Every now and then Mr Collins would try to wriggle free and would be rewarded with Susan just increasing her grip a little as a warning. Mr Collins would squeal then settle and the cycle would repeat. I could not convince Susan to give up her prize and if I am honest, I didn’t actually try very hard to make her.

  A little less than thirty minutes later an ambulance arrived along with the police and shortly afterwards a police animal control unit. For once I didn’t know any of the police and for once they didn’t arrest me. Mr Collins had screamed blue murder at them accusing us of breaking in which had forced him to respond by coming to the yard. He then claimed we had attacked both he and Malcolm and caused the injuries paramedics were treating Malcolm for now. The police had looked at us seriously for a moment and probably would have arrested us had I not got Mrs Collins on the phone. As joint owner of the business she had given us a key, so we were not now intruders but two persons with a legal entitlement to be where we were. To finish the game though I retrieved the camera, took it back to the start and showed the police what had really happened.

  They took Mr Collins away, put Malcolm into an ambulance and the two dogs were being handled by police animal specialists as Big Ben and I left.

  Another case solved; Mrs Collins had been over the moon to find out that her husband was cheating on her. She referred to him and a useless piece of limp meat. Retribution seemed likely to ensue.

  It was now 2118hrs according to my watch. I had to wipe dirt from the face of my watch when I lifted my cuff to check the time. Diving around in the dirt had unavoidable side effects and this was probably the dirtiest, oiliest dirt I would be able to find for miles around. I looked at my clothes. They were black, so the dirt did not show but I could tell it was there.

  Nevertheless, Big Ben and I were going to the pub next. I had asked Big Ben if he felt he should see a doctor, but I knew what his answer would be before I asked it. Had he said yes, I would have known he was feeling really bad. He made the point that there wasn’t anything they could do except keep him in for observation and that this would be a waste of both his time and the NHS resources.

  We arrived at Jagjit’s car, spun it around on the path sending debris shooting into the bushes and left the Breaker’s Yard behind us. I was driving. Obviously. And I was inclined to have a heavy right foot. It was not unusual for Big Ben and I to grab a beer for an after-action-review and I could hear the cold, amber liquid calling me.

  The Bit of New Information Thursday October 14th 2157hrs

  We parked Jagjit’s car back on his drive and knocked on the door to hand over the keys. Fortunately, Jagjit answered the door so we avoided having to explain to his parents why we were covered in dirt and had ripped clothes and bloody bandages.

  ‘Hey, Tempest.’ Jagjit said as he opened the door. ‘Tough night?’ Jagjit was wearing dinosaur pyjamas and was eating from a family sized bag of hula hoops. They were beef flavour. He offered the bag to Big Ben and I but we both politely declined. He had crumbs on his top.

  ‘It was eventful.’ I replied. ‘Thanks for the loan of your car. We didn’t need it in the end.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ he asked. ‘Did you not catch the dog?’

  ‘We did.’

  ‘Dog would be a loose term.’ Big Ben interrupted. ‘And there was two of them. Big ugly buggers.’

  ‘Yes. Well, we were able to get out alive and the case appears to be solved.’ I concluded.

  ‘Ben and I are going for a pint if you fancy joining us?’

  ‘I had better not, guys. I have a big meeting in the morning. Actually, that reminds me. I forgot that I have something to tell you.’

  ‘Oh, really? What is it?’

  ‘The lady you have been solving the Phantom case for. It turns out she is the big new client the partners at my firm are all excited about.’

  My curiosity was peaked. ‘Tell me more please.’

  ‘Not much more to tell.’ he replied between munching crisps. ‘She has a big lump of riverside land. She and the partners are looking to turn it into a whole bunch of luxury homes looking out over the Thames. It should be worth mazillions.’

  ‘Mrs Barker?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Margaret Barker.’

  ‘Definitely the same one that I have been working for.’

  ‘One hundred percent, mate. Why?’

  Why? I wasn’t sure exactly, but this was important somehow.

  Big Ben and I bid Jagjit good night and with a plan to see him tomorrow anyway we set off for a well-earned drink. We walked the half mile to the pub via my house. My two miniature Dachshunds had heard me coming down the path to the house and were scrambling to get out of the door to greet me as I was trying to get in. ‘Hello chaps.’ I said as I scooped them both, so I could get past them to grab their leads.

  They both stopped and sniffed deeply at my clothing then eyes me suspiciously. I knew why. They did this every time I came home with the smell of another dog on me. They were jealous types. Bull eyed me disapprovingly then as a pair they left me to offer their affection to Big Ben instead – the dog version of a cold shoulder.

  A minute later I had them both secured. They had snuffled excitedly around Big Ben’s feet while he gave them both a pat and a scratch. I was taking them to the pub and they understood enough of what I said to forgive me for cheating on them with another dog. Now they were straining at their leads to get to the destination. I needed no such encouragement.

  Big Ben reached the pub door first and opened it with a flourish. All conversation ceased briefly as the patrons stared at the two guys dressed in black SWAT gear now stood in the pub doorway.

  ‘Shut the door. You are letting the cold in.’ instructed Madge from her seat near the door. Madge was a pub regular, the type that you get in every village ale house that had been alive longer than anyone else and thus knows everyone and their business.

  We did as instructed. I pulled a chair out for Big Ben to sit, he still looked a little woozy. I hooked the dog leads around a table leg to stop them wandering off and took a step towards the bar. I stopped there though and turned back to Big Ben. ‘What do you want to drink mate? You still look a little off balance.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ he replied. ‘I am not one hundred percent yet; I’ll give you that. Maybe just a beer.’

  ‘How about a non-alcoholic beer?’ I ventured.

  ‘Mate.’ he replied, turning to lock eyes with me. ‘Drinking non-alcoholic beer is like going down on your sister: it might taste kind of the same, but it is just plain wrong.’ Big Ben had a knack for analogy that often impressed and horrified at the same time.

&nb
sp; ‘A beer then?’ I confirmed and headed to the bar.

  Big Ben and I had put away three pints in very quick succession whereupon he had taken the sensible route and jogged home. It was a solid five miles to his penthouse apartment in town and would take him perhaps forty minutes. It was safer and more responsible than me dropping him off. He could have taken a cab, but he believed the exercise would help to straighten out his head. I would not recommend everyone jog home late at night through dark countryside paths but in Big Ben’s case he was probably the most dangerous thing out there.

  I had stayed for one more pint, because it felt right to do so, then had thanked the Landlord and had taken myself home. I walked through to the kitchen and snagged the dogs a gravy bone each. The gravy bones were inhaled as only a dog can, leaving two tiny faces looking up at me in the hope there might be more yet.

  I went through the house performing some basic tidying up. I took the clean dishes out of the dishwasher and put them away. There was ironing to do, I fleetingly considered tackling it now, but my brain was fuzzy from a few hurried pints and I was dirty from the night’s fun and games at the breaker’s yard.

  I snagged two more gravy bones to the staccato rhythm of tails beating excitedly and headed upstairs to get a shower before bed with the funny little dogs following.

  As I got in to bed, I remembered that the Ashes cricket match was starting shortly. It was in Australia this year so coverage did not begin until nearly midnight. I put the television in my bedroom on and turned it down to quiet. My brain was itching because of what Jagjit had told me. The Phantom of Barker Mill case was all sewn up. But something about what Mrs Barker was doing felt wrong or off, or… something.

  As the England opening batsmen were clapped onto the pitch, I fell asleep still wondering what she was up to.

  Breakfast and Brett Barker Friday 15th October 0907hrs

  A restless brain had driven me from bed at 0615hrs. I had been awake for a while by then mulling over what I had missed. Jagjit had said that Mrs Barker was meeting with the senior partners at his firm today. She was going to be discussing a big property deal involving waterfront land on the Thames. The Mill was on the Thames riverfront and there was something entirely suspicious about her actions. I did not know what was making my Spidey-sense twitch yet, but I intended to find out.

  At some point today, I would visit Mrs Collins again to provide a report on last night’s events in person. It would wrap up the case and provide a chance to hand deliver the bill for my services. It was a secondary task that could wait though.

  For the last almost three hours I had been crawling through all the information I had gathered on the Mill, the case, the Phantom and I had not yet determined a new theory. I did have some new unanswered questions though. Why would Mrs Barker be seeing commercial real estate agents? Who was the young man in the Nissan Skyline at her house? These were just two elements that were bothering me.

  Today I would find out what was going on. I had seen the Nissan Skyline at the Mill so that was where I was going.

  Bull and Dozer were snoozing in an early morning sunbeam on the sofa in the lounge. We had taken a decent walk this morning while I spun a few ideas in my head, so I was content that they were fine to be left. Dozer twitched a back leg while I watched and let out a snort. I was not sure they would even notice I had gone. Nevertheless, I gave them each a pat and received a grumbled complaint from Bull as my reward.

  My bag and keys were on the kitchen counter. I drained the last of my tea, visited the smallest room and with the determined step of a man seeking righteous justice I set off.

  Then I went back and got my phone and set off again.

  The roads were clear and free flowing on the short run back to Barker Mill. In the car, I recapped the information I had and questioned it.

  Mrs Barker had engaged me to prove that Brett Barker was responsible for her husband’s death. I had subsequently discovered that Brett had arranged for a supply of fake drugs which he had switched for his Grandfather’s heart medication. This was the damning piece of evidence. Amanda and I had found both the original drugs and the remainder of the fake drugs hidden in a compartment in his wardrobe. Brett had motive – inherit the Mill and opportunity since he lived in the same house and worked in the same building. Brett had also used Owen Larkin to pose as the Phantom. My belief had been that the fake heart meds were taking too long to kill his Grandfather off and Brett had sent Owen to the mill late one night to shock the owner and cause a heart attack. The hot glove and the Phantom’s cloak had been found in Brett’s office. Combine this with the purchase of the fake meds and it all pointed to Brett. If I did nothing now Brett would be found guilty and that would be that. His plan to sell off the Mill would be scrapped, and Mrs Barker would get the justice she sought.

  So why is Mrs Barker now talking to real estate people? I kept coming back to that question. She might have a completely legitimate and unrelated reason. That felt tenuous though.

  This wasn’t getting me anywhere. I tried coming at it from a different angle, one where Brett Barker is completely innocent. Staying with this premise, if Brett was innocent someone would have had to have planted the hot glove in his office and the pills in his apartment. They would also have had to pay for the pills to be manufactured using his credit card. Also, Brett wanted the Mill broken and devalued. If he was innocent of causing the death of his Grandfather, was he also not guilty of sabotaging the Mill? I could not make sense of it because whichever way I looked at the case I could not come up with a reason for Brett to cause damage to his own Mill. What gain could there possibly be?

  Then a further thought surfaced. During the raid on the Mill, Big Ben had been adamant that the chap he tackled had been taller than Owen Larkin. Had Owen been standing on something, or had it just not been Owen? Did he have time to kick Big Ben in the nuts and get to the other end of the Mill to then be chased back towards us by Hilary and Basic? If not, then who had been inside the Mill to kick Big Ben in his testicles?

  Furthermore, what about Jagjit and Poison’s claim that they had been following a cloaked figure. They had also claimed it was taller than Owen Larkin. Maybe six feet tall had been their estimate. So… so… there was something key here and I was just not seeing it.

  The two chaps at the hospital – Gary and Chris. Chris had claimed the Phantom he had chased and had then been attacked by was a girl.

  I drummed the steering wheel with my fingers and tried to force my brain to connect the dots.

  OMFG! There was no way this thing was that convoluted. Dots were finally joining in my head. Well, more sort of leaping and crashing into one another than joining. The connections they were making would be ridiculous if they did not actually fit the circumstances so well.

  I punched the phone button on my console. The in-car system spoke to me. I instructed it to call Amanda.

  She picked up on the second ring. ‘Tempest? What’s up?’

  ‘Can you get to Brett Barker?’

  ‘Can I? Why do… No, forget I asked. Yes, probably.’

  ‘I need you to ask him what his plans for the Mill are.’ I was thinking as I was talking. ‘Find out if he was actually causing damage. I doubt they can charge him with anything regarding sabotaging his own mill, but I need to know why he was doing it.’

  ‘Ok, I’ll give it a go. I’m not sure if he will speak to me given that I arrested him.’

  ‘You can tell him that this might get him out. Tell him I think I have solved the case this time. But please stress that I need his help if he is innocent.’

  ‘I thought you were convinced he was guilty.’

  ‘I was. Long before I got anywhere near proving it. I was blind to other possibilities and it seems I was wrong from the start.’

  ‘I’ll let you know how I get on.’ she disconnected.

  I had reached the A2 offramp. I indicated and swept down and under a flyover. I would be at the Mill in moments. There were several people that I int
ended to see, I just hoped I would catch them all here on a Saturday morning.

  I turned into the Mill entrance. The security guard waved me through the gate. There in front of me and easily visible was the Nissan Skyline. Now that I was looking at it properly, I could see just how much love, attention and mostly money had gone into it. It looked like it had just rolled off the assembly line, but from a factory where they add every conceivable non-stock styling and performance extra. This thing was shaved and slammed. It must be worth fifty grand, I estimated. It was not a car a young man could afford unless it was:

  A. not his.

  B. provided to him by a rich uncle

  C. reward for services rendered to a rich widow.

  I hit it with my car.

  I already knew that he was not one of the Barkers. Given that there were only two people living at the house and I had seen him leaving there early in the morning it had to mean he was sleeping with one of them. My money was on Mrs Margaret Barker. But Mrs Barker was hot. Very MILF hot. So, why would she bother with a young, spotty, geeky teenager?

  The only answer I had was because she wanted him to perform tasks that he otherwise might not and was using sex and very possibly the car to ensure he did them.

  The car alarm was blaring. I got out of my car and walked around to inspect the damage. By blind luck and a bit of aiming I had managed to hit it with a bit of my bumper that already had a scuff on it. I had been meaning to get it fixed for months. Now I would have to. The damage to his car was minimal; a slight bruise to the front bumper, but on such a treasured item it was serious enough.

  I only had to wait a few seconds before faces appeared at the windows of the offices that overlooked the car park. I had no idea where this chap worked. However, my hunch was it would be a role that brought him into regular contact with Mrs Barker and thus he would most likely be in the offices and not the foundry.

  Sure enough, less than a minute after the alarm started the young, spotty fellow exited the main office building and headed my way, his pace hurried.