by steve higgs
I got a grip of myself and gave it to him straight. ‘I have an email that threatens me directly. It’s a follow up to the message in the fish.’ My reply stopped him dead in his tracks.
Coffee forgotten, he crossed the room. ‘Show me, please.’
I sat back down in my chair and tapped the mouse to bring the screen back to life. Then I pushed my chair across a bit so he could lean in to read the email. As his eyes danced across the screen, I said, ‘I traced the IP address already. It’s a local address.’
Tempest straightened up again. ‘Any idea who it is you’re supposed to stop pursuing?’
I shook my head. ‘I thought it was from the Biddenden Lake killer. At least, that’s who I thought threw the fish yesterday.’
‘Where’s the address?’ Tempest was already moving back to the coatrack to get his scarf. ‘I think I’ll do this the direct way. Would you like to come?’ The question surprised me, but before I could respond, he added, ‘We need to talk about your new role anyway. Pay, car, loan, stuff. We can do all that in the car.’ Then he shouted for the dogs, shut them in his office where they had a bed and water and waited for me by the office back door. ‘It still smells of fish in here.’
‘I know,’ I blushed again, but then I slipped my coat on and fluffed my hair so it fell over the collar and wasn’t trapped inside. I was going out.
Pay Raise. Monday, December 5th 1039hrs
Like a gentleman, Tempest held the car door open for me to get in. I don’t know if that is an automatic thing for him; I look like a woman therefore he opens doors and such, or if it was for the look of it; I look like a woman and therefore anyone looking will see him acting like a gentleman. Either way, he did it all the time and managed to switch his attitude and mannerisms seamlessly when I turned up as James instead.
Once the car was rolling, I put the postcode and road address for my gut-you-like-a-fish friend and let the car work out how to get there. The address was in Cattering, a small village on the other side of Maidstone. The satnav said it was twelve miles but a thirty-minute drive because of the tiny winding country lanes.
Tempest thumbed the call button on my steering wheel, prompting the car to ask him who he wanted to call. He shot me an embarrassed glance, then said boldly, ‘Walking Penis.’
‘Calling Walking Penis,’ the car’s automated system replied. I giggled because I knew who the walking penis was. Tempest’s friend Big Ben was an Adonis with legendary pulling powers.
The call connected. ‘Hey, tiny dick, what you up to?’ boomed Big Ben’s voice.
Tempest sighed and rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, in England we say good morning. Good morning, Ben. Can you practice that?’
‘Boring,’ he replied.
‘Ben, I’m in the car with Jane…’
‘Your saucy assistant with a bit too much junk?’
This time it was my turn to roll my eyes. Tempest didn’t bite though. ‘We are on our way to err… have a word with someone. Are you busy?’
I heard Big Ben moving about then, talking to someone in the background. ‘Not anymore. Give me the address. How soon do you need me to be there?’
‘Thirty minutes? We’ll hold on for you. We’re just leaving Rochester actually so you might get there first if you leave now.’
‘Yeah, just need to kick some girls out first. See you there.’ He disconnected.
Had I heard him correctly? ‘Girls?’
Tempest nodded wearily. ‘Often, yes.’ He paused to check a junction was clear then eased out and started talking again. ‘So what do you want to do, Jane? I hired you in as an office assistant, but it is clear I would be stifling your abilities if I tried to limit you to doing just that.’
I cleared my throat. It felt like one of those conversations where one’s future hangs in the balance. I needed to get this right and be sure about what it was that I did want. ‘I think I want to be an investigator. I looked into the first case because we had a desperate client and you were both tied up. It was kind of the same this time but I went into it quite deliberately wondering if I could cut it as a detective. I like doing the research part of the job, but…’
‘But we can hire anyone to do that,’ Tempest finished my sentence. Then corrected himself. ‘Well, maybe not anyone. You are significantly better at all that than I am, so I would need your help to hire in someone new. Someone with the right skills.’
‘Is that what you will do? Hire in someone new?’ I asked, surprised that he wanted to move so fast.
‘Well,’ he shrugged. ‘The business is doing well. We get more enquiries all the time so not hiring a new detective would stifle the firm’s development. It might as well be you that takes the role. You can transition into it as swiftly as you like, but the only thing holding you back is getting someone else in to do the admin. The research bit is something you can keep if you want.’
‘You seem to have this all worked out already.’
‘Ha!’ he scoffed. ‘I have no idea what I am doing. I’m just going with what feels right and hoping it works out. You did. So did Amanda. So did the new premises. We’ll have to hot desk a little as there is no room to put a third office and no one wants to be in the storeroom.’
‘Could we convert the storeroom? Put a window on the back?’ I was thinking out loud, but Tempest inclined his head as he considered it.
‘Maybe we could. Anyway, let’s say you are now working as a detective and tomorrow will be selecting your own cases to pursue the same way Amanda and I do. Paying you as an admin assistant is no longer appropriate so I want to suggest a new package.’ Then he outlined what he pays Amanda and my jaw dropped. It wasn’t the basic salary that startled me, but the cut he gave her for closing cases successfully. The one element of the business he didn’t let me handle was payroll. I knew what was in the bank because I dealt with the account and paid invoices in. I figured though that he kept most of the money for himself. He was doing well from the firm and got a cut of the income Amanda took from solving client’s paranormal problems, but it was far from the lion’s share. He was offering me the same deal. ‘Does that sound fair?’ he asked.
I almost wet myself in my bid to shake his hand and say yes. Suddenly my trashed Ford Fiesta wasn’t much of a concern. I was going to be able to afford the repayments on a new car if I wanted one. Assuming I could close cases I reminded myself before I got too carried away.
We arrived in the street the fish-gutter’s house was on and stopped short. Tempest was looking about for Big Ben’s car. Then an airhorn blasted right next to my window as he screeched to a stop in his giant black car/truck thing.
‘Alright losers?’ Big Ben shouted down as he hung out his open window. I had a hand to my heart as I prayed it would restart soon.
‘He is such a delight,’ muttered Tempest as he opened his door. Big Ben swung his big car around in front of Tempest’s and parked, leaping energetically down to the pavement to make the beast rock side to side on its suspension.
Once all three of us were on the street, Tempest asked, ‘You said, the person should be home?’
‘Their IP was live and being used when I checked. They are either on a day off or they work from home.’
Big Ben cracked his knuckles and patted his groin, giving his junk a check feel. ‘Yup, both ready for action. Is it a girl or a boy we are here to annoy?’
I shrugged. ‘I traced an IP address.’
That didn’t do it for Big Ben though. ‘So, that means…’
I rolled my eyes yet again. ‘I can’t tell. All I know is there is a computer in that house that was used to send me a threatening message.’
Big Ben rolled his shoulders and hunched over into a boxer’s pose. ‘Let’s find out then.’
‘Hold up,’ Tempest grabbed his arm. ‘We are going to be polite. At least until it is time to stop being polite. If you wish to take over at that point, you may do so.’
We didn’t get that far though because the door of the house we were standing ou
tside of was yanked open and a short man with a baseball bat and an aggressive expression appeared. ‘I warned you!’ he roared. ‘I warned you to stay away from him. That’s all you had to do and instead you come here and you bring muscle with you. Am I supposed to be intimidated?’
Big Ben, Tempest and I all looked at each other. ‘Um, yes?’ said Big Ben. ‘We are fairly scary. Well, I am anyway. Tempest not so much.’
‘Be quiet, knob jockey,’ Tempest hissed. Then he addressed the irritated man, ‘Sir, I must request that you put down the bat so we can calmly discuss your need to threaten my colleague.’
The man said something rather colourful in response that could be shortened to a firm no. What I wanted to know was who it was I was supposed to be staying away from. I didn’t get to ask though because the crazy man attacked us.
If I hadn’t been so startled by his aggression, I might have been entertained. As I took a pace back, my feet moving themselves as instinct took over, Big Ben and Tempest stepped forward. The man had the bat above his head and was running across his front lawn screaming, ‘Aaaarrrrghhh!’ as loud as he could manage.
Nonchalantly, as if they were being charged by an angry hamster, Big Ben asked, ‘You or me?’
Tempest shrugged. ‘Me? Then you can finish?’
Big Ben bowed theatrically at Tempest, turned toward the attacker and said, ‘Sure.’ Then several things happened really quickly. The guys both took a step to the side, each one going a different direction so the man’s attention was split, then as he glanced at Big Ben, Tempest darted back in and the man took a wild swing at the sudden threat. Tempest continued his motion though, carrying onward toward the man so that as the man swung his bat, Tempest was inside the man’s personal space and at the fulcrum of the swing where it had no power.
He plucked the bat from his surprised grasp and Big Ben thumped him on top of his head with one meaty fist. The man dropped to the floor with both hands on his head to shield it from further injury.
It was like watching a choreographed dance.
Tempest threw the bat back towards the man’s house. ‘Now then, what say you we have a more dignified chat?’
He looked kind of pathetic and harmless now that he was unarmed and on the grass, so I crouched down to bring myself closer to his eyeline. ‘Who is it you are trying to get me to stay away from?’ I asked.
‘What?’
‘You threatened me and demanded I stay away from someone. I don’t know who you are talking about. I’m not involved with anyone.’
‘You’re not?’ His face bore a perplexed expression. ‘But I’ve seen you with him.’
‘Who?’ I demanded with a large helping of impatience.
‘Jan Van Doorn. He’s my boyfriend. Was my boyfriend,’ he corrected himself. ‘We split up a few weeks back. I need him back. I need him to see how much I love him…’
I wasn’t listening anymore; Jan was gay. How had I not known? Jan was gay and that changed everything. He was trying to ask me out earlier which must mean that he knows I’m not a girl. And I told him I’m not his type. Dammit.
I began to walk back to the car. ‘Err, Jane,’ called Tempest, his voice causing me to stop and turn around again. ‘Are we done here?’
‘I thought he was connected to the Biddenden Lake murders. He’s not, so I guess I have no interest in him.’
On the ground still, the man spluttered, his ire rising at my dismissal. As he tried to get up though, Big Ben moved slightly and put a large foot on the man’s hand. ‘You’re not thinking of doing something rash, are you, sir?’ asked Tempest. ‘Gutting my colleague like a fish for instance.’
He mumbled something and when prompted to speak a little louder, he shouted, ‘No!’ Then there was an uncomfortable interlude where Tempest insisted the man apologise and then recorded him admitting his crime, stating his name and address and promising to never contact me or any member of Blue Moon again.
I was glad to be back in Tempest’s car when it was done. It was another dead-end lead though. Three cops were dead, and I was no nearer to working out who was to blame.
Half the day was gone and there was work waiting for me back at the office. In the quiet of the car on the ride back to Rochester, I thought about the new position Tempest had offered me. He had no plan to look into the Biddenden Lake case; we had no client now that CI Quinn had pulled the plug on our contract and was sure the police would work it out for themselves. His offer though allowed me to choose my own cases. If I picked a non-paying one and worked on it in my own time, I was sure he would not object.
I wasn’t done with the swamp monster yet.
A Clue in a Puddle. Monday, December 5th 1547hrs
The afternoon slipped by in a blur, the minutes merging into each other as I performed routine tasks and helped Amanda with some basic research. She had what appeared to be a case on the coast where a biker gang wanted to hire us. Two of their gang members had been killed, found dead with bite marks the local coroner had confirmed to contain wolf saliva.
They were pointing the finger at a new gang who called themselves the Herne Bay Howlers. The Howlers had a howling wolf as their gang symbol. Amanda asked if I could pull together some basic information on the parties involved and that had eaten up a couple of hours.
The work seemed mundane now though. What had been interesting last week, was now a challenge to focus on because I knew there was something more exciting I could be doing. I caught myself daydreaming more than once, my attention drifting off to consider the swamp monster case. Should I pursue it? Should I leave it alone?
Just as I pressed send on the file to get it to Amanda, my stomach gurgled; I had skipped lunch. From her office, Amanda called out, ‘Thanks, Jane.’ But she didn’t look up to see me give her a thumbs up.
The next task on my list was to send the reply to Lord Hale’s invitation. There was a RSVP email address to which I was expected to send a list of attendees. Tempest’s list included his parents, Jagjit and Alice, Big Ben and Patience and both he and Amanda. He asked me if I wanted to attend with Simon but realized his mistake almost before the words left his mouth. He then apologized unnecessarily several times while I assured him it was okay.
With that task complete, my stomach reminded me of its emptiness. I needed to eat something. The move meant the snacks I would normally have in the fridge to make lunch with were still in the fridge at Simon’s house and I wasn’t getting them back. I could do some shopping to get a few bits into gran’s cupboards later. Right now, though, I needed a sandwich.
Outside, the rain had moved on and the pavement on the pedestrianized High Street was beginning to dry. Heading to a sandwich shop along the street, I found myself behind a woman with two little girls. They were twins and perhaps eight or nine years old and they were squabbling as kids do. The mother was losing her rag at them which was having no effect as the pair continued to fight. As they drew level with a large puddle, one shoved the other into it. Both were wearing wellington boots so getting their shoes wet was no issue at all but the one in the puddle took offense and chased after her sister, both of them running through the next puddle.
I stopped walking. On the pavement in front of me was the answer to the whole damned swamp monster case. How had no one considered it. I felt my heart thump in my chest, a wave of exhilaration sweeping through me like adrenalin.
Despite my heeled boots, I ran back to the office. Neither Tempest nor Amanda were there but I didn’t need them, I wasn’t going to tackle the killer or get into a fight with anyone. I was going to do some research, prove to myself what I thought I knew and then contact the police. Chief Inspector Quinn might be a person I was never going to like but if I was right, then he was about to get killed by the same people that had killed the previous three victims and Ian Dexter.
It was the footprints. The footprints; the fact that the only footprints at the scene were those of Ian Dexter and Jennifer Lasseter was the key argument used by her lawyer to ensure her
release. It was also erroneous. What they were looking at were three sets of footprints, but two of them were wearing the same shoe and weighed roughly the same so had caused the same depth of impression.
That had to be it. But the answer also threw up a stack of new questions. Jennifer Lasseter was guilty, that was the instant conclusion I could draw. Her footprints were at the scene three years ago and she was the only one that saw the supposed swamp monster. She had an accomplice at the time, most likely another woman given the shoe size, but it could be a small man. Solving that crime did not necessarily solve the current spate of murders though. There were no footprints found near the bodies, no entry point found where the killers had placed the bodies in the water, and they could tell they had drowned at the lake from the water found in their lungs.
My computer booted into life as I settled into the chair. I hadn’t bothered to take my coat off; I didn’t think this was going to take very long. Now that I could see that Jennifer was guilty, I thought I knew where to find the accomplice as well.
In Jennifer’s social media pages, there were photographs going back to her childhood. My earlier research skimmed through them, but something had stuck with me. It didn’t mean anything at the time, but it lay dormant in my brain until it was triggered by something else. I didn’t know what it was until now, but as I clicked through to find the image set I wanted, the feeling of dread came back.
Michelle the cop, the one who was partnering Jan was a childhood friend of Jennifer’s. I stared at pictures of the two of them together and knew I had it right. Someone had leaked the swamp monster picture and someone had helped Jennifer murder her boyfriend in a manner that the police wouldn’t be able to prove. She was the right height and the right weight, and she had been involved in the original case. Unable to take my eyes off the screen, my hand fumbled for my phone and knocked it off the edge of the desk. Too late, I dived after it, only to see it bounce off the edge of the bin and shoot across the floor. The noise it made as it hit the tile did not fill me with confidence so it was no shock when I turned it over to find the screen dead.
