by steve higgs
Mike Barfield did the gentlemanly thing and gave up his chair for the young lady, which Jane declined in her wonderful bass-baritone, much to the surprise of the four men. Thankfully, none of them saw reason to comment.
After a while, I decided I had heard enough. I had a simple question for them. ‘Gentlemen, I empathise with your plight, but I am struggling to understand why you have come to me. Surely this is a job for the police. They are already committing manpower and resources to track down the Klowns.'
The four men all stared at me and then glanced at each other with curious expressions. It was Richard that spoke first. ‘But, Mr. Michaels, surely the police cannot catch them.'
‘Why ever not?’ I asked, truly curious.
He looked confused when he replied with, ‘Because they are from hell.’
‘From hell?’ I asked, my curiosity peaked.
‘Well, we figured you would know all about this stuff. Surely, they must be demons or devils or something like that. The police cannot catch them because they don’t know how to. A demon circle will trap them and then you can banish them back to hell.’ said David, glancing between me and his colleagues.
‘Yeah. I’ve seen it on TV,’ chipped in Mike.
I considered this for a moment. I had plenty of cases I could be pursuing. However, I was going to go after the Klowns anyway so it would be nice to be getting paid for it. Would I be taking advantage of them though? I considered it silently for a few seconds.
‘Gentlemen, I am willing to take your case, but I have to explain a few things first.' I locked eyes with each man, in turn, to make sure they were listening. ‘There is nothing paranormal about the Klowns. They are just men. Ordinary men with a very unusual hobby. If I find them, I will ensure that the police are brought to their location.'
‘So, you will not be banishing them to hell then? asked Mike.
‘No, sir. Wormwood Scrubs perhaps. But I need to make it clear that I am an investigator. I investigate. I have no special powers of arrest, so when I find them it will be the police that deal with them.'
The four men turned towards each other and began hastily discussing something in hushed tones. I could not hear what they were saying but when the horn honked once more I was not surprised to hear Big Dick swear.
‘Kevin, if you honk that bloody horn one more time, I will shove it up your arse.'
‘I have to honk it, Richard. It’s my calling card,’ he said with a honk, at which point Big Dick snatched the horn from him and tore the rubber bulb clean off the horn.
‘Not anymore it isn’t,’ he claimed triumphantly.
With an impressively nonchalant delivery, Kevin reached into his jacket and produced another horn. He honked it with a smile.
‘That does it,’ shouted Big Dick, jumping to his feet. The effect of leaping off his chair actually made him shorter, but his face was thunderous, and he looked ready to kill.
‘Perhaps we should wait outside,' said Mike, grabbing Big Dick's shoulder and spinning him around to face the stairs. ‘You fellows conclude business here, please,' he said over his shoulder as he departed, pushing his short friend in front of him.
Jane walked across the room and sat in one of the now empty chairs.
‘If you want me to pursue this case for you, I need to explain my rates.' I spent the next few minutes going over what I charge and explaining that the very nature of the case meant it was not possible to guarantee how long it would take to solve or even if I would. They were certain they wanted to engage my services though, so I shook their hands, took a deposit while they were still with me and bid them a good day. The horn honked twice more as Coconutty Honkster went down the stairs and several more times outside in the street before he was far enough away for the noise to no longer carry.
‘How are you going to find the Klowns?’ asked Jane after they had left.
‘I honestly have not the faintest idea,’ I replied. I wasn’t lying. There just were no clues to follow at this stage. That had not deterred me before though, so I was going to put my best sleuthing boots on and see what I could find.
The first thing to do though was visit Frank. Frank knew all manner of weird stuff, so I was not going to be surprised if he already had some form of theory worked out for the Klowns. Of course, his theory would most likely be that they were demons from hell and that we needed to form a demon trap in order to pin them down and perform a banishing spell. Frank was a little out there, but his theories often gave rise to new ideas of my own. It was worth going to see him anyway, so I drained my coffee, dropped the cup in the bin and went out the door.
Mystery Men Bookshop, Rochester. Monday, October 24th 1115hrs
The mystery men bookshop sat just off the High Street on a road called Northgate. The shop itself was on the first floor and almost invisible from the street unless one knew to look up. Frank did much of his trade via the internet as you might imagine but he also enjoyed a steady stream of patrons in the shop, all of whom found their way there quite deliberately and made regular purchases. Frank was doing alright.
He only had one member of staff; a nineteen-year-old, sexy, athletic little minx named Ivy. She went by the name Poison though and that was what was displayed on her badge. Her naturally black hair was usually accented with a colour which seemed to change more often than the weather. Today it was a deep-sea green hedging towards turquoise and matched her stretchy long-sleeved top. The top, and in fact her entire outfit had that distressed look about it as if the wearer had recently been in a terrible fight with a large dog. The effect was deliberate though so despite my reservations, I kept my mouth shut for fear of sounding like a dinosaur.
‘Good morning, Poison. Good morning, Frank,’ I called out as I went in.
Poison looked up. She had been leaning on the counter reading a graphic novel. ‘Hi, Tempest,' she said, her voice laden with a definite sultry tone. There was a little heat between us that I was continuing to ignore for reasons that I myself did not fully understand or would at least struggle to explain adequately to anyone else. She believed that she owed me her life and wanted to repay me using a fairly traditional method. I felt she was too young for me to be fooling around with.
Frank had his back to the door when I went in, caught in the task of pinning a poster to the wall behind the counter. The poster was for a Hallowe’en event in a week’s time – some big jamboree in the grounds of Rochester Castle. ‘Good morning, Tempest,’ he said over one shoulder. ‘Won’t be a moment.’
He finished what he was doing and stepped down from the footstool thing he was on. My brain had not connected the bits of information to tell me he was standing on something. Frank is about five feet and four inches tall, so the extra step had only made him man height.
‘What do you have there, Frank?’ I asked, taking an interest.
‘This?' he asked, turning back to look at the poster. ‘It is a new event actually. The Rochester Bloodbath promises to be a horror night that no other event can match. Lots of stalls set up, spooky sets to walk through where actors will be replaying favourite scenes from horror movies, that sort of thing. Poison and I have a stall there. I expect to turn quite a good profit and promote the business at the same time.'
‘Sounds good,’ I acknowledged. It would probably be great fun for those that were horror movie fans. Rochester attracted a lot of different events. The old cobbled streets and narrow alleyways made it a unique place to bring people. Plus, the Castle and Cathedral grounds were open plan and thus perfect for setting up a stage or, in this case, a horror movie set.
Just as I was about to ask Frank about the Klowns and what he might know about them, his eyes bugged out and he started tapping his hand on the counter to get my attention. ‘Ooh, ooh, ooh, I almost forgot,' he blurted with excitement.
‘Forgot what, Frank.’
‘Your competition.’ He drew a blank from me. ‘Your competition,’ he repeated, nodding his head as if that would help me to understand him. ‘Don’t y
ou know?’
I was still drawing a blank. I had no idea what he was on about.
‘Tempest there is a new paranormal investigator in town. He set up shop just a few doors down from you.' This was news to me. Not welcome news either. I was not surprised that Frank knew before I did, he had some form of internal radar for anything with a paranormal slant. That the new guy was just a few doors down from my office was troubling though as if the person had deliberately put his business under my nose.
‘Is there really?’ Was all I could think of to say. ‘Well, I wish him luck.’
‘He won't need luck, Tempest. The clients are already overwhelming him.'
I did not like the sound of this one bit. Thinking about it though, I probably had myself to blame. My success with the vampire serial killer case and more recently the phantom case and others besides had made me into something of a minor local celebrity. That someone else had decided to cash in on the sudden popularity of investigating the paranormal should be no surprise. I made a mental note that I should go to see him, welcome him to the industry etcetera while of course checking him out. I could tackle that later, for now, I had questions to ask Frank.
‘Frank, what do you know about the Klowns?' I asked him, changing the subject completely.
‘Funny you should ask, because I have just been doing research on exactly that subject for Lyndon.’
‘Lyndon?' I felt like I was asking a lot of questions this morning or had more gaps than usual in my knowledge.
‘Your competition,' Frank explained while beginning to look exasperated. ‘Lyndon Parrish is a traditional paranormal investigator. He has all the gear. He knows about runic incantations, witch codes and how to close a circle. He carries holy water and a crucifix with him…'
‘What you mean, Frank is that he believes in all the same hokum as you, whereas I do not,’ I replied with a smile. Frank and I were on very different sides of the same belief system. Frank remained convinced that everything from crop circles to weeping Madonna’s had something supernatural about them. I did not.
‘Yes, Tempest. That about sums it up. Shall we go and meet him?’ he asked.
‘Now?’
‘I have this research for him,' Frank said, dumping some paperwork on the counter between us. ‘I was about to go around there anyway. I can introduce you.'
I could not come up with a reason why I should not go. Frank had already picked up the pile of papers and was hugging it to his chest to keep control of it. ‘Lead the way.' I followed him back out of the shop with a quick wave goodbye to Poison who was already opening her graphic novel again.
That Frank was already doing research for the new guy bothered me. I had no right to claim Frank as my researcher, of course, he was nothing of the sort and I did not pay him. He was someone that I had learned to respect though and possibly even rely on at times.
‘Klowns then, Frank. What have you learned, please?’ I asked as we walked along Rochester High Street.
‘Not much, if I am honest, but I already made an extra copy of the research in case you came asking for it. Here we are.’ Frank announced as he headed towards a shop door.
We had gone past my office but only by about twelve metres. It was in the wrong direction for me, in that I always came in from the other direction and very rarely would I have passed the new business. Had I done so, I might have noticed the very new looking glass-front right under my nose. Casting my mind back, I could remember that this place had been empty for a while and had been covered up while it was being worked on recently. Clearly, the new owner had been getting it ready for business.
Above the glass front, the name of the business was displayed in large letters: True Paranormal Solutions. Large, glass windows sat either side of a glass door leading into the business. The bottom five feet of the glass was frosted so that one could see indistinct shapes inside but little more. The façade was very modern and inviting.
Frank pushed open the door with his left shoulder and went inside, leaving me standing in the street still taking it all in. After a few moments, I followed him in to find that he was nowhere in sight. The inside of the business was as plush and modern as the outside. It was everything my office was not. To one side was a reception counter made from chrome and even more frosted glass. Behind it, on a high stool, was an attractive woman in a business suit. Probably in her late twenties, she looked like a lawyer from a US TV show – all professional and glamourous with a side order of massively intelligent. She offered me a brief smile and a salutation but otherwise left me to look around.
On the other side of the office space was an area in which customers could wait. There was a middle-aged couple there now, looking slightly out of place amid the sleek surroundings in their ordinary clothes. They were sat on one of a pair of plush-looking leather sofas which were arranged around a coffee table.
I looked around the room. On the far wall, opposite the entrance, were two office doors. One was blank, but the other had a frosted glass nameplate on the outside. It claimed the office in the name of Dr. L Parrish. Next to the door was a framed certificate. I walked across the room to inspect it. It was a Ph.D. awarded to Lyndon Parrish. He had studied paranormal psychology, a subject I knew nothing about. I moved on. Around the office were large framed pictures of crop circles, the Loch Ness Monster, a grainy photograph of what one would assume is a flying saucer. Frank had many of the same photographs in his bookshop but, in contrast, his were ratty old posters held up with blue-tac. The overall impression of the office and business was money. Lots and lots of money.
On top of the reception counter, was a cardboard holder in which I spotted a leaflet with the word Rates in the top left corner. I smiled at the receptionist and picked one up.
‘Is there anything I can help you with today, sir?’ she asked politely.
‘Not just yet, thank you.’
‘You will find our rates very reasonable,’ she assured me.
Very reasonable? Compared to what?
Looking at the leaflet I realised that they were reasonable compared to mine. I honestly believed I charged a sensible, acceptable rate but the prices in front of me were undercutting mine by a good margin. I wondered how his business could turn a profit. I was making okay money from my work, but I was hardly rolling in it and my overheads must be a fraction of theirs.
My time to consider this was cut short as Dr. Parrish emerged from his office with Frank. The pair were deep in discussion.
‘Oh, my word!' exclaimed Dr. Parrish as he noticed me. ‘Tempest Michaels. The very man himself. In my office no less.' He was bubbling over with excitement. I could not fathom why.
I extended my hand, which he took. His grip was weak. I made no comment.
‘Dr. Parrish?' I asked.
‘Goodness, please call me Lyndon. I must say this is a real honour.’
‘Why is that?’ I really wanted to know why I suddenly seemed to be getting treated like the lead singer in a boy band.
‘Anastasia, why does Mr. Michaels not have a drink?' he asked the receptionist. Somewhat flustered, she hopped off her stool.
‘There is no need, really,’ I said.
‘Nonsense, Tempest. You are something of a personal hero of mine. You gave me the confidence to set out on my own quest against the forces of darkness.’
‘What forces?’
Frank leaned in to whisper in Lyndon's ear. His face turning from confusion to surprise. ‘A non-believer?' he uttered in a hushed tone. He locked eyes with me again. ‘Mr. Michaels, you do not believe in the supernatural forces, and yet you battle them anyway? It takes a lot to impress me, but my goodness you are quite the man.'
‘Lyndon,' I started then stopped. I scratched my head as I tried to work out how to frame my question. ‘Lyndon, there is no paranormal. It's all a load of rubbish and every one of my cases has proven that. What solution do you offer your clients if you do not solve their cases by presenting them with a rational answer?' The question felt like
I was directly insulting him. Perhaps I was, but I could only assume that he was ripping people off by performing fake exorcisms or painting sigils on people's houses to ward off ghosts while charging them for his nonsense.
‘You will have to forgive, Tempest,’ said Frank. ‘He would deny the existence of a lycanthrope even while it was eating his arm.’
‘This is disappointing, Mr. Michaels. I had expected to exchange stories of supernatural adventures, of ghost hunting and bringing down foul beasts. Alas, it seems that will not be possible. I have to wonder though what happens to the spirits, ghosts and other creatures that you fail to tackle while you are offering your clients what you believe are rational explanations. You charge them for the pleasure of your time but do not catch, trap or otherwise dispose of the entity that has troubled them.'
Lyndon was neither small nor large. At just under six feet tall he was almost the same height as me but a lighter build. He looked very academic, which is to say that he did not look very dangerous, but his ire was up; he was angry, and the anger was aimed at me. I had no interest in exchanging any further words with him.
‘Good day, Dr. Parrish,' I said, smiling pleasantly. I offered my hand once more and like a gentleman, he took it and bid me a good day also. I nodded to Frank and left them both where they were. On my way out the door, I checked my watch: 1211hrs. I intended to investigate the ghostly footsteps at the restaurant in Faversham tonight, so I went back to the office to check on Jane, let her know my plan and that I was going home to rest.
Jane was sifting emails when I got back to the office. ‘Anything of interest?' I asked her. It had taken some time to train Jane to see the crazy from the genuine cases. When she first started as my assistant, she was… well, actually she was James and dressed as a man… because she was one. But at the start, she had a propensity to believe the claims the clients made and would have signed me up to investigate every case.
