by steve higgs
‘Good morning, Basic. My apologies, I am not yet ready.’
‘That’s okay, Tempest.’ he replied coming through the door.
‘Would you like a cup of tea? I am having one.’ He nodded yes and took a seat at the breakfast bar in my kitchen as I set the kettle to boil. The dogs barked to be let back in. They wanted their breakfast.
At the breakfast bar, Basic had pulled a Gameboy from his coat, it was already playing a tune to accompany whatever game he had on. I recognised the music but could not tell which game it was just by listening.
I left him there to let the dogs back in. As I opened the patio door, they scrambled past me to get to the kitchen. That they needed to wait for me to serve their breakfast and thus running ahead of me achieved nothing failed to deter them from doing so every morning. I made them wait impatiently for their breakfast while I made the tea, then scooped them each a half cup of kibble which they attacked before I could even get the bowls to the floor.
I turned on the news expecting to hear of more Klown attacks last night. The two anchors went through a half hour cycle of National news while I made breakfast. There was nothing about the Klowns at all. As they finished their set it switched to local news where I felt certain there would be reports of murder and mayhem, but again it was as if the Klowns had never been.
Was it incongruous that there was no report of Klown activity, or had there been other days in the last couple of weeks when they had been inactive? I dismissed it, left Basic playing with the dogs and went upstairs to get showered and dressed. My ribs were definitely not as sore as they had been, I was able to wash my hair with only minimal wincing.
It was just before 1000hrs when we finally left the house the dogs dragging me out of the door and over to the car. I had called Jane to let her know I was running late. Again. My phone had pinged a reminder that it was her birthday which allowed me to mention it and come off as the caring boss that I wanted to be.
There were a number of different routes I could take to get there. I usually let my mood dictate which direction I pointed the car but this morning I went through Borstal to bring me down to Rochester via the Maidstone road. There was a good florist in a short parade of shops about halfway. I stopped to get flowers as a birthday present for Jane.
When we pulled back out into traffic, the two dogs were displaced by a large bunch of Gerberas on Basic’s lap. They were unhappy about this as they felt the passenger’s seat was only there for their purposes anyway, now they had flowers to contend with as well. However, they selected an alternative solution to just laying down for the last mile, they climbed across the centre console and onto my lap instead making it far more adventurous for me to drive the car. I quickly checked there were no Police about to see the Dachshund on my lap and as I did so I noted that the silver Mondeo that I had seen a couple of cars behind me earlier was still there. There were two cars between us so despite trying to see the occupants I could not. Was I being tailed by Klowns? Was this to be attack number three?
They trailed me all the way around the back of the Castle but vanished from sight as I pulled into my parking space. I told Basic to leave the flowers and the dogs in the car and stay alert.
The carpark behind my office was contained by walls on all sides. The only gaps were the one I had driven in through and one at the front which allowed pedestrian access to Rochester High Street. I went on foot back to where I had entered the carpark. I peered around the corner of the brickwork but of the silver Mondeo there was no sign.
Paranoia?
I turned around and bumped into Basic. He had been standing right behind me looking massive and ready to kill if required.
‘Klowns?’ he asked.
‘Not this time. False alarm, I think. Let’s get to the office.’
I retrieved the flowers from the car and fished out my keys. I tried the bottom door to my office, pleased to find that Jane had locked it once inside as I had instructed.
Basic was waiting behind me. ‘Hey, Tempest. What happened when the lion ate the clown? He felt funny.’
His jokes were getting worse, but I smiled anyway. I called out to Jane as we went up the stairs. It threw me a little that it was James sat behind the desk when I got to the top. He came dressed as a man so rarely that I had almost stopped bothering to think of him as one. Yet here he was wearing what looked like a fresh from the box Le Coste navy-blue polo shirt, dark blue jeans and a pair of tan Cat boots. He was over by the window at the small table leafing through a wad of A4 sheets and drinking coffee. The office stank of freshly brewed espresso making me want one.
‘There is a freshly brewed pot.’ James said, without looking up. He knew me well enough, I guess.
‘Happy birthday, James.’ I brandished my bunch of flowers. ‘These do not seem as appropriate now. I was expecting Jane.’
‘They are lovely. Thank you. I like flowers regardless of how I dress.’
‘What are you reading there?’ I indicated the printed pages he held.
‘Some online theories about the Klowns. I printed it off at home last night to read when I needed a screen break. It is all utter rubbish though.'
I nodded. I often read online forums about the cases I was investigating, the bigger cases attracted them sometimes, or if I was looking into something generic like a werewolf, I would read generic forums on the subject. Mostly it was garbage but sometimes the garbage led me to consider something, some tenet of the case that I might otherwise overlook.
‘Okay.' I said, cracking my knuckles. ‘Time to figure this thing out.' With no better option, I intended to spend the day going over and over the available facts and theories until I found out who the Klowns were and what they were doing. We had managed to find a couple of connections thus far which was more than the Police had, so far as I knew. I was not something I took pride in; it was just how things seemed to work.
I set Basic up at the table by the window. He had a Gameboy and a dinosaur colouring book and was sat humming quietly to himself while I wrote on three different whiteboards.
‘James, do we have any interview notes from the victims?’
‘Not really. I think the Police have largely kept them under wraps but there are some uncorroborated quotes in the media. Why?’
‘I want to ask the victims about the attacks. What they heard, what the Klowns said, why they believe they were targeted.’
‘Didn't you already try that when you were contracted by Mrs. Plumber?'
‘Yup. There have been a lot more attacks since then though. Some of them really stand out. Take this one.' I tapped the board, more for my own purposes than to bring his attention to it. ‘Edna Wilkins, seventy-three years old, a retired infant-school teacher. If the attack was deliberate, then what on earth was the motivation behind it?'
James got up from the table and came to join me in front of the whiteboard I was poking. Basic noticed and followed him.
‘Then there is Marion Lloyd. The only attack to occur outside of the County. Why?’
‘The Police said it was a copycat crime. Someone taking advantage of an easy to replicate M.O.’
‘But what if it wasn’t? What if the Klowns deliberately drove two-hundred miles north to attack a woman? The victim is an ordinary middle-aged woman. Nothing special about her. If this was a copycat attack, there needed to be something significant to motivate it.
‘Surely the same is true of the Klowns? If they had to drive all that way, there must have been something significant to motivate them.
‘Indeed. I just don’t know what it is yet. The same problem we have with all the Klown attacks. I still think there is one thing linking all of this together.’
‘So… phone numbers?’
‘Phone numbers.’ I agreed.
It took James almost no time at all to find a number for Marion Lloyd. I left him tracking down contact details for Edna while I went over by the window to place the call. The phone rang for some time and went to the answering service. I
clicked off then tried again. This time it was answered but it was a man's voice I heard at the other end.
‘Hello?’ Was what he said in a tone that was treading a line between bored and angry.
‘Good afternoon, Sir. My name is Tempest Michaels…’
‘And you are another bloody reporter after another bloody interview.’ He snapped at me and hung up.
I tried calling back, but I got no answer and after a few attempts it was clear he had turned the phone off. My guess was that it was Mr. Lloyd that had answered the phone and that he was probably justified in his annoyance after being pestered by the press. They could be persistent.
‘I have a number for Edna.’ Announced James from the desk. ‘It is at an old person’s home though. Sheltered living, if that is the right expression. So, it is a number for the warden I guess.’ He looked up finally having been reading from the screen. ‘You want it?’
‘Might as well give it a go.’
I had a little more luck this time, which is to say that I was not immediately hung up on. My call was not welcome though, yet again they had received several already. I was able to convince the lady at the other end of the line that I was not a reporter or journalist, but she still would not allow me to speak with Mrs. Wilkins.
I could not blame her, but I felt no choice but to the push the issue. If I was going to make headway, I was going to have to take steps I might otherwise not. The area code was one I recognised. James gave me the address – Tonbridge. I could be there in little more than thirty minutes.
I thought about it for a few seconds, the choice was obvious though. There was something connecting the attacks. There had to be. I had considered the possibility that they were all completely random and just didn’t buy it.
‘James, I'm taking a road trip. Going to see Mrs. Wilkins.' At the tone of my voice, the dogs lifted their heads in interest. They always knew when there was something to be awake for. Looking at the two cute, stupid dogs sat beneath Basic's chair I saw how I was going to get in to see Edna.
‘Okay.' James replied. ‘Will you be coming back here afterward?'
I checked my watch: 1107hrs. ‘Yes, most definitely, but it will be a couple of hours at least. Will you be okay here by yourself?’
‘I will lock the door after you leave. If the Klowns turn up looking to kill me I will escape through the travel agents while they are busy breaking down the door.' He sounded calm and confident. I kept quiet about how easy it would be to throw an explosive device through one of the old glass windows.
‘We going out, Tempest?’ asked Basic.
‘We sure are. We are taking the doggies to see some nice old ladies.' I convinced Basic to use the bathroom before we left the office, then we walked the dogs for ten minutes on their leads around the corner to the grounds between the Castle and Cathedral. It was tranquil and pleasant there as if the world, in general, had no thought of the Klowns.
Old Dears Home, Tonbridge. Thursday, October 27th 1207hrs
The address was easy to find. I had a rough idea where it was from checking the map on the wall before I left, and the satnav did the rest. I found myself checking my rear-view mirror searching for a car that might be tailing me. I saw a Silver Mondeo at one point but no sooner had I spotted it than it pulled into a petrol station.
We arrived at the destination, there was parking around the back, so I followed the signs, putting the car in a space with room either side of it. The Dachshunds were up and excited, climbing all over Basic in the passenger’s seat to look out the windows. They knew they had arrived somewhere.
I was fairly confident that I would be able to find and quiz Mrs. Wilkins provided I could bluff my way past whatever guard dog they had on the front desk. I expected a voice entry system attached to a buzzer at the front door, something I would have to negotiate in order to get inside the building. Luck was on my side though. It was the kind of assisted living where the Old Dears got to come and go as they pleased. They had separate accommodation inside, much like living in an Army barracks where the rooms were private but joined by central interior corridors. Each had a kitchenette and they were able to cater for themselves. Two of the residents were returning from a nearby shop as Basic and I rounded the front corner of the building being led by the two Dachshunds.
‘Ooh look, Mavis. Look at the sausages.’ said the first, trying to nudge the second with an arm weighed down by her bags.
Hearing her, the two dogs instantly diverted their route to intercept hers. I was holding the dog leads but Basic, the wonderful soul that he was, darted forward offering to carry their bags the rest of the way to their accommodation.
They appeared to be deliberating. Basic, while harmless and good-natured was also hulking and a little scruffy. ‘Good afternoon, Ladies.' I greeted them as the dogs closed the final few feet. I held them back as they were ready to climb the ladies' legs for attention. ‘We are just popping in to see Edna Wilkins. James will carry your bags to your rooms if you wish.'
Mavis was too interested in the dogs to give it any further consideration, perhaps she judged that we were unlikely to be there to steal her fruit loaf and tea bags. Whatever the case she handed her bags to Basic without looking at him and bent her knees as far as they would go so she could reach down and pat the dogs. Her friend, the one that had spoken first did likewise.
It was an old ploy of mine, old ladies liked little dogs, they were easily swayed by them. Before they knew what they were doing, they had entered the door code and walked us inside the building. We chatted amiably as we followed them to their rooms, talking about the dogs – Mavis had owned a Dachshund as a child, and about Edna and how we knew her. I had to lie at that point. Sticking to vagaries, I claimed I had grown up with her as a neighbour and that she had been kind to me. My tactic avoided the potential pitfall of claiming I was her grandson only to discover that her friends knew that she had no children.
Mavis and Coleen, we learned the other lady’s name when Mavis addressed her, led us to a day room where they said we would most likely find Edna watching TV with some of the other residents. They were right, although I had a brief moment of panic when we went in as I realised I didn’t know what she looked like. Thankfully, Coleen called out to bring Edna’s attention to her visitors.
‘Hi, Edna.' I tried hopefully. My hope was based quite cruelly on the concept that there might be some memory issues going on. All the residents looked to be in their eighties or beyond. The youngest might be in her late seventies.
‘Oh, hello.’ replied Edna, not even looking up at me. The dogs were far too interesting as they buzzed around her feet. I selected Dozer as the dopier and more cuddly choice, picked him up and deposited him upside down on her lap. He stayed there with her tickling his belly, his head back and his eyes closed.
It took a while, but in the end, one by one, the other ladies drifted away. Bargain Hunt was about to start, it was lunchtime, various reasons to be elsewhere. Now that it was just Edna and me, since Basic had found a Smurfs jigsaw puzzle to play with, I figured it was time to come clean and tell her why I was there.
‘So, young man. Would you like to tell me why you are here?’ she asked. The old bird was as sharp as a tack. She had pegged me right from the start. ‘Nice move bringing the dogs. Are they yours or did you hire them? I assume you are a reporter of some kind.’ She fixed me with a stare that demanded I tell the truth. I remembered then that she had been a school teacher for most of her life.
‘Mrs. Wilkins, my apologies for the subterfuge. My name is Tempest Michaels, I am an investigator looking into the Klown case.' I omitted the paranormal bit, it tended to just confuse people. ‘I hoped to ask you a few questions about the attack. Would that be acceptable?'
‘To what end, Mr. Michaels?'
‘I intend to stop the Klowns. I think the Police are looking in the wrong place and I have been targeted twice myself, so I have a vested interest in finding out who they are and what they are up to.’
&
nbsp; ‘Well, Mr. Michaels I will tell you what I know. I already told the Police everything though, so I am not sure what help I can be.'
‘Specifically, I want to know why they would target you.’
‘The Police said it was random.’
‘That is the bit I think they have wrong. I believe it is not random, which means they came after you as part of a plan. The question is why? Why are you linked to them?
Edna stared at me blank-faced. ‘What did they say to you? I know it must be awful to think about it, I apologise for bringing up the memory.’
‘What did they say while they were kicking me?' I felt awful pressing her to consider it again in detail. ‘They didn't say much at all. One of them though. He said… he said, "Today's lesson is pain, Mrs. Wilkins." I had not given it any consideration until now, but now that I think about it, I would always start my lessons by saying "Today's lesson is…" and then telling them what we were going to learn.
‘You think maybe this Klown, the one that spoke, was one of your students once?’
She shrugged. ‘I guess that makes sense.'
‘Was there a boy that sticks out as being one that would hold a grudge against you?’
She frowned at me as if the question was unacceptable. ‘Mr. Michaels, I was a teacher for fifty-seven years with thirty or so new students every year. Regrettably, when I started, way back in the late fifties it was perfectly acceptable, even expected for the teacher to whack a child if they stepped out of line. It was the late eighties before this really changed so there will be hundreds of children that might hold a grudge.'
