by steve higgs
In my hand were copies of Brett Barker's business finances that Mrs. Barker had provided. Among the many pages were his company credit card statements and there on June 5th was a payment of twenty thousand pounds to Martin Wilkins. I had been curious about it at the time, as it was such a large and exact amount, and I had performed a brief search to find that Martin worked at Palmer Pharmaceuticals. I did not know what the money had been for, but I had a pretty good idea.
I went onto a search engine and looked the firm up. Lining up the crosshairs on Brett Barker had not taken very long at all. Palmer Pharmaceuticals made a wide range of medical treatments administered in pill form. Among them was Captopril. George Barker had been taking Captopril to control a heart condition and I was willing to bet that Brett Barker had bought a supply of the packets with a placebo inside instead of the real drug. He could swap the old man’s pills over; they would look exactly the same but do nothing to aid his failing heart.
It was not solid evidence. However, I was certain it was enough to make people look further. I had him. I just needed something more so that I could remove any ambiguity – like a note from Brett plotting the whole thing. That would be nice, but was unlikely, so it was time to act in a calm and strategic manner.
I called Amanda. Her phone rang for some time before it connected to her messaging service. I elected to disconnect and leave her a text instead. The text simply told her that I had evidence that Brett was guilty, and she needed to call me.
I would call her again in a few minutes if I did not hear from her and keep trying her number until I was successfully connected. I needed to call Mrs. Barker though, so I tackled that next.
Mrs. Barker must have assigned my mobile number to her phone as she answered with, ‘Good evening, Mr Michaels?'
‘Good evening, Mrs. Barker.' I started. ‘I believe I have found the evidence that implicates Brett in your husband's death.'
I heard her catch her breath, the noise suggesting that I was delivering news that was very exciting. ‘I am glad to hear it, Mr. Michaels. After last night's debacle, I was considering releasing you from the contract. What is it that you have found?' she asked.
‘Evidence that he has been substituting your husband’s heart medication. It is circumstantial evidence at this time leaving me to find something more concrete before I go to the police. I need to search his rooms at the house as well as his office at the Mill. Does he have any other property or hideaway locations where he might stash something?’
‘Not that I am aware of, but I will give that some thought.’
‘What I am looking for initially may be in his wing of the house and I do not wish to tip him off that we are searching, so I need you to provide me with free access to his rooms. Can you do that?'
‘Of course, Mr. Michaels. Brett will leave the house at eight o'clock tomorrow morning, as usual, to go to work. I can let you into his wing of the residence any time after that.'
‘Very good, Mrs. Barker. If I do not find what I am looking for there we may need to search his office or car.
‘What time should I expect you?’ she asked.
I ran the question through my head quickly. I was keen to get on this right now, but the task had to wait until Brett was going to be out of the way for a few hours. If there was evidence in his apartment, I expected it to be hard to find. Probably hidden. I still hadn’t spoken with Amanda and I wanted her there for several reasons. ‘Shall we say 1100hrs?’ I offered.
‘You mean 11 o’clock?’ she clarified, sounding confused.
‘Yes, Mrs. Barker. Eleven o'clock. If I need to change that time, I will inform you.' My phone vibrated in my hand to indicate another caller was trying to connect. Pulling the phone from my ear I saw that it was Amanda. ‘I have another call, Mrs. Barker. Please excuse me, I will see you tomorrow at eleven o'clock.'
‘Good evening, Mr. Michaels.' she hung up.
‘Amanda?’ I said quickly punching the answer button on my phone to switch between calls.
‘Tempest.’
‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’
‘Err, sorry. This conversation got lost somewhere. I was just on the phone to Mrs. Barker. I believe Brett bought fake heart meds and substituted them for his grandfather's. I intend to look for additional evidence of this in his wing of the Barker house tomorrow morning and need our help.' I let that statement hang for a moment. ‘I think he really did it.' I added as I knew Amanda was less inclined to believe the handsome, super-rich beau was guilty.
‘Okay. What did you find?’ she asked.
‘There is a transaction a few months ago in his financial records where he paid twenty thousand pounds to a Martin Wilkins. Martin Wilkins works at Palmer Pharmaceuticals and Palmer Pharmaceuticals make Captopril. You are going to tell me that this is circumstantial, but we must follow this up. If we find anything else, bearing in mind I intend to find and quiz Martin Wilkins, then we have him.
‘What are you asking me?’
‘I am going to the Barker mansion tomorrow at 1100hrs. Mrs. Barker will let me into his wing of the building so no warrant to search the premises is required or anything else that might hinder the chain of evidence should we find what I am looking for. I want you to come with me though to corroborate what I find, call in the detectives who will catalogue and record the evidence and to make the arrest if we can find what we need.'
I could hear her thinking. She made small noises as she mulled the idea over. Was I asking a lot? I did not think that I was and there was no risk to her that I could see.
‘Okay.’ She said having arrived at the same conclusion. ‘We search his place and if we find anything, I will make the appropriate calls. This needs to be done right.’
‘Deal.' I replied, cheering silently. I was going anyway but having Amanda along would speed up the search and make any evidence found more legitimate.
‘Will you be at the office?’ she asked.
‘Yes. Meet me there?’
‘I’ll be there by ten.’ she disconnected.
I put my phone down. Then realised I was not yet finished. I had loosely organised to raid the Breaker’s yard with Ben tomorrow night. Was that still a good idea? Probably not. I did not want to run the risk that I was tied up still dealing with the Phantom case.
I picked up my phone once more and placed a call to Big Ben.
‘Dude.’ he answered sounding a little out of breath.
‘Hold fire on that gear I asked you to get, mate. We need to postpone the raid for a day or so.’
‘Okay.’
‘Okay? Really? No questions to clarify why or what has changed?’
‘Well, I would take an interest in your stuff but then I would be ignoring the two naked girls that are currently waiting for me upstairs.’
I had no idea if he was lying or telling me the truth. It seemed entirely possible he was being honest though.
‘Well, we still need the gear, just not tonight.’
‘No problem. I have it already. I went to visit the vet lady like you suggested and she was just finishing her surgical shift for the day, so she brought it to my house and decided to stay for a shag.’
‘Then where did the second girl come from?' I asked, thinking I had caught him out.
‘There was too much gear for her to carry so she brought her vet nurse with her.' He explained as if it were obvious. I really hated him sometimes. Mr. Wriggly echoed the sentiment. ‘Got to go. Talk later.' He hung up, leaving me with imagined images of the impending shagfest at his place flashing through my mind.
Git.
I checked my watch. It was very nearly 1700hrs. My stomach growled, politely reminding me that I needed to eat.
I called the dogs in for their dinner. Then looked up a number for Palmer Pharmaceuticals and dialled it.
It connected almost immediately. ‘Palmer Pharmaceuticals, Good afternoon.’ A man’s voice.
‘Good afternoon.' I started wondering what approach would get me the inform
ation I wanted. I went with the direct question first. ‘This is Dr. Edwards of Dawlish Medical Supplies. Can I speak with Martin Wilkins please?'
I was half expecting to be asked what my call was pertaining to but after a very short pause his voice came back with, ‘I’ll put you through now.’
Pleased that I was going to get to question the chap and be able to hear from his reaction whether he was indeed guilty of supplying Brett Barker with dodgy drugs I was surprised to hear a woman’s voice instead.
‘Good afternoon. How can I help?’ It always annoyed me that receptionist staff would put a call through without telling the next person in line what the caller wanted thus forcing them to start their explanation all over again.
‘Good afternoon. My name is Dr. Edwards. I was hoping to speak with Martin Wilkins.'
‘Can I ask what it is pertaining to?’ she was rude enough to see no need to introduce herself.
‘It is a long-running matter that he and I have been working on together?'
‘Really?' her voice full of disbelief. ‘You have been discussing a long-running matter with the office mail boy? I hardly think so.' I was going about it badly, but I was getting information nevertheless.
I tried a new tack, taking some of the polish out of my voice and allowing in some local guttural drawl. ‘Okay. You got me. I'm his mate, Dave. Is he there?'
‘You are not his mate. I doubt your name is even Dave. Martin Wilkins quit his job here four months ago. I shall assume you are another debt collector after money that he owes someone. Please do not call again.’ She hung up abruptly.
The short phone call had not given me what I wanted, which was to talk to Martin and pin him down so that I could force him to meet with me. He might be key to proving Brett's guilt. I had however, found out plenty about him. I performed some internet searches, but he was not on Facebook and although I could find some limited information about him, I could not find a photograph or where he was currently employed.
I fixed myself some food and turned on the TV. There was not much more I could do tonight.
My New Office Assistant. Wednesday, 13th October 0857hrs
As it was my business, I came and went from the office as I pleased and rarely kept exact office hours because I had no need to. If I had no case to pursue and I felt like a lie in or wanted to spend longer in the gym I simply did so. Only once had this practice caught me out when I had arrived at the office at around 0930hrs to find a client waiting. The client had elected to come to the office rather than email or call because, like so many others with a genuine case, he had felt he would sound like a mental patient through any medium other than in person.
This morning, I had risen and walked the dogs and eaten a nutritious breakfast all before 0800hrs. Then I had sat on my sofa with Bull on my lap watching breakfast news when I remembered that I now had an employee at the office and ought to be there before him.
As it turned out, I got to the office only just before 0900hrs and in my rush skipped my usual routine of going via the coffee shop to get a beverage, read the free paper and maybe flirt with Hayley. Going through the bottom office door at 0857hrs, I could see that the office light was on. James had beaten me in, opened up and was already at it.
However, when I got to the top of the stairs what I saw was a young lady where James should be sitting. She wore a pair of thin-framed, designer glasses and she had loose curls of blond hair cascading over one shoulder. I could not see much of her face from the door, it was covered by her hair, but she looked up as I came in.
‘Good morning, boss.’ she said in a man’s voice.
OMFG. It was James.
‘You look a little stunned, boss. Is there something wrong?' he asked, the voice sounding completely alien coming from the cherry red lips. My brain was working overtime to keep my mouth from speaking as I was not sure what words might come out of it. I was not bothered that my new assistant liked to wear ladies clothing. Well, not exactly. I had always held with the opinion that people should be allowed to do as they please provided their actions do not negatively affect others. My brain though was struggling to accept the image and the sound had been generated in the same place. It was like watching someone play the trumpet but hearing the noise of a piano come from it. The disturbing part was that James as a girl was not unattractive. If I passed him/her in the way, I might glance twice.
‘Err, good morning, James.
‘It’s, um. It’s Jane.’ he/she replied with some hesitation.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘I have two personalities fighting for dominance.' he/she said with a little more confidence as if they were rehearsed words that had been said in explanation many times before. ‘You know my male side, James. Well, this is my feminine persona, Jane.'
I like to think that I am hard to shock. I have seen a lot of the world’s ugly bits, been exposed to the dregs of mankind etcetera and it was not so much that my new employee’s habits were shocking; they were not. I had not anticipated them though. I was having trouble making my jaw work. I wanted to ask if I needed to stock the toilet with feminine products for his/her needs.
In the end, I went with, ‘Jolly good, James. I mean, Jane.'
‘Would you like a coffee?’ he/she asked.
‘Err, yes. I suppose I would.’
This was an unexpected or at least unplanned benefit. I had hired an assistant to perform tasks that were taking up too much of my time. Time that I felt would be better spent engaged in more profitable endeavours. Fetching me coffee was not one of them. However, I saw no reason why I could not fetch the coffee on occasion so that the task was reciprocal. Perhaps Amanda would also want coffee and thus the three of us could take turns. Anyway, coffee sounded good, so I pulled a fresh ten pounds note from my wallet and gave Jane my order.
Jane collected her handbag from the floor by the desk, dropped her phone into it and left the office, shrugging on her coat as she did.
I settled into the chair behind the desk, finding it still warm from her bottom and scanned my emails. This was something I would do less and less now I suppose as I would be training Jane/James to identify which emails or calls were of merit.
Less than two minutes after she had left the office, I heard the door at the bottom of the stairs open again to herald her return. Surely, she had not been gone long enough to have even got to the coffee shop, so had she forgotten my very simple order or was there something else forcing her premature return?
It was not Jane though, but Big Ben’s grinning head that appeared around my door frame.
‘Alright, nosher?’ he asked
‘Generally, in England, people start with good morning.' I responded.
‘Only because they lack imagination and panache.’
‘Good morning, Ben. What are you doing here?' I checked my watch: 0911hrs. ‘Are you not normally in bed underneath a supermodel at this time of the day?'
‘That would not be unusual, but last night’s shag was an air hostess and she had a flight this morning. She left in the middle of the night.’
‘I guess that sounds entirely plausible. It fails to explain your presence here though. Not that you are not welcome, of course.’
‘I have a golf game and got the time wrong, so I am out of the house an hour early with nothing to do. Your office is on the way to the course, so I decided to stop off here, get some breakfast in one of the many delightful shops and pop in to annoy you.’
‘Of course, you did.’ Big Ben had been leaning against the office door frame until now but finally came in and flopped into one of the chairs by the window.
‘Hold on. I can smell perfume.' he sniffed deeply and wiggled his nose about a bit. ‘That's Princess by Vera Wang. High-end stuff mate, not your average high street brand. Rich client in this morning already?' he asked.
I was impressed by his olfactory system. ‘How can you possibly tell the brand and bottle?’ I asked.
‘How? It has a very oriental flower centred scent.
Launched in 2006 it celebrates youth and femininity as its top notes deliver aquatic nuances with the pure and sharp scents of water lily, apple, mandarin and apricot but the heart of the perfume is composed of guava, tiare flower, tuberose and a touch of dark chocolate. The base notes, if one can discern them, deliver traces of vanilla and amber. It is quite distinct from anything else on the market.’
My mouth was hanging open. I had known Big Ben for years and this was the most articulate he had ever been about anything. I could not discern one perfume from another. I struggled to tell my own collection of aftershaves apart.
Big Ben was looking at me as a teacher might to a dull student. ‘You have to know your enemy, mate. Otherwise what chance do you have of defeating her?’
I was still a little stunned. ‘Actually, you are smelling my new assistant.’ I managed.
Big Ben sat bolt upright, leaning forward in his chair to lock eyes with me. A devilish grin on his face. ‘Did you go and hire a saucy young assistant to shag?'
‘Ah, not exactly.’
‘Is she really friggin’ hot? She is, isn't she? You hired a sexy minxette and were not even going to tell me. Did you shag her at the interview or afterward?'
‘It is not really like that, Ben.’
‘In what way?’ he asked, face all quizzical.
‘Well, to start with Jane is… and then I stopped myself. ‘It would not be appropriate for me to have anything other than a professional relationship with her. We are going to work together. Possibly for years if she proves worthy of retaining and wishes to stay, so I am afraid I can report that no shagging has or will take place.'
‘Well, bollocks to that. I shall assume that since you have not placed dibs on her that I am free to give her a jolly good ploughing myself.' It was a statement of intent, not a question.
