Blue Moon Investigations Ten Book Bundle

by steve higgs

  ‘Sophie.’

  ‘Good evening, Tempest.’ she said, her voice guarded and far different from the excited tones in which she had addressed me a few days ago. ‘Thank you for my flowers and the note.’

  ‘You are very welcome.' I felt that I had apologised enough and that any more of the same would come across as grovelling – not a characteristic I expected a woman would want in a prospective mate.

  If she was expecting more grovelling, then she did not pursue it. ‘I have decided to give you one more shot at this, Tempest. I like you, but I have to say I did not expect it to be like this.'

  ‘I understand. It has not gone as I planned, but I will endeavour to make it up to you. Why don't you tell me what your favourite restaurant is, and I will make arrangements to take you there?'

  ‘Hmm… that does sound nice. There is an Italian place in Rochester High Street that I like.’

  ‘Monte Verdi’s?’

  ‘Yes, that's the one.' I knew it well. It was one hundred metres or so from my office, had an excellent and well-deserved reputation and was expensive. Not so expensive that I balked at the idea of taking an attractive woman there though.

  ‘Jolly good. I am looking forward to it, Sophie. When would like to do this? How about Saturday?’ I asked.

  ‘Can we make it Friday instead?’

  ‘Of course.' I replied without bothering to think. Just like that, I had a dinner date with an attractive, single woman on Friday night. Neither one of us had children to worry about so the evening could take us wherever it fancied. I suggested picking her up, but she answered that she was local so would make her own way. My brain was telling me that I would have to tell the chaps that I was not able to make it for our regular round of drinks on Friday but knew they would understand. I then remembered that Jane had invited me and anyone else from my crowd out for birthday drinks tomorrow night. I had failed to contact any of them yet because my brain appeared to be misfiring recently.

  I concluded the phone call with Sophie by agreeing a time to meet on Friday night. I was yet to book a table but was confident I could sort that out. We said goodnight and disconnected.

  I put the phone back on the table in front of me and picked up my pint. Technically I had a third date with Sophie Sheard. Third dates came with certain connotations, although chuckling to myself about how crap I had been this week, I doubted she would be interested in hearing me joke about it.

  I sent a group message to Jagjit, Big Ben, and Basic as well as Frank and Poison, telling them that there was a meet for drinks the next evening and encouraging them to come along. Just before I sent it, I added Hilary. Hilary ‘Brian' Clinton was a good friend and member of the regular Friday night pub crowd that had recently come out on a night-time adventure with me and the others which had resulted in his arrest. His wife had not taken it very well and we had not seen him since. I thought his attendance was a long shot, so I added that his good lady would be more than welcome and ended the message with an apology for the short notice.

  I drained my drink just as the burger and chips were delivered. They were as tasty as the menu claimed. I had eaten at the pub before but only once or twice; it was not a habit I wanted to fall into and I was already berating myself as I mopped up the last of the ketchup with my final chip.

  I am going to get fat, I can feel my waistline expanding.

  I told my paranoia to shut up and finished my pint. It was 2127hrs. I needed to get home, get clean and get to bed, so I bid the other patrons goodnight, clipped the dogs back onto their leads and sauntered home with a full belly and slight haze from the beer. Apart from the ache in my ribs, I felt good.

  At home, I went upstairs to run a bath and came back downstairs to pour myself a generous rum and coke. It would further take the edge off the pain in my side. At least that's what I told myself. Into the bath had gone a cap-full of my Molten Brown muscle soak. I doubted it would have any real effect on my body, but it sure smelt good, and what is life without a few treats?

  Checking my phone, I saw that Jagjit and Big Ben had responded to my earlier group message to say they were coming. Jagjit was bringing a date, the paramedic lady from Saturday night. Big Ben was coming alone but then he always did. He just turned up, flashed his smile and took someone home with him. Basic had also replied but he could not attend as he took his mum to bingo at the church hall on a Thursday. No reply yet from anyone else. Leaning against my kitchen counter sipping rum from a Mason jar, I remembered the missing client from this morning, the one with pertinent information about the Klown case. As my bath ran, I sent a text to Jane. It was late, but I was sure she would not mind. Calling would get a more certain response but it seemed intrusive at this time of day.

  Her answered pinged back in less than a minute, answering my question with a name - Angela Barclay.

  I stared at the screen on my phone for a while. Angela Barclay was a woman I had met during the Vampire case. She had been dating one of the ringleaders and had been completely blind to the crimes they were committing. I had coerced her into giving me information that had helped me solve the case and now she was trying to give me more information. This time about the Klowns. How did one woman get herself mixed up in so much trouble?

  I checked my phone contacts list to find that I did still have her number. I called it and waited for her to answer. She did not pick up though.

  I tapped my phone to my forehead thoughtfully. There was something I was missing here. Why was Angela involved again?

  I had alcohol and painkillers in my system now, so my brain was a little fuzzy, plus I was tired, so I shucked my clothes and went for a soak in the bath. As I left the bedroom the dogs were climbing onto the bed.

  Late Start. Wednesday,October 27th 0812hrs

  Sunlight woke me which meant I had slept in again. I was turning into a civilian! I was eating unsuitable food, allowing poor excuses like broken ribs to keep me from the gym and I was laying in my bed getting nothing done. All these thoughts rampaged through my mind in the first few seconds of alertness. I glanced across at the clock to find that it was 0812hrs. Well after the time I ought to be out of bed.

  I levered myself up onto my elbows and blinked a few times. Was I feeling better? Did my ribs hurt less? The painkillers I had taken last night would be out of my system by now. I gingerly prodded my ribs with the fingers of my left hand. It was still sore but five days on it was also not as sore as it had been. Was I healing more quickly than predicted or was the Molton Brown muscle soak imbued with magical powers?

  There was a knock at my door and an instantaneous episode of barking from the dogs, both of whom were still beneath the duvet revelling in the warmth it provided. They emerged at speed, still barking a warning to the intruder outside. I already knew it was Basic or was most likely to be Basic, as I had offered him a lift in with me this morning. Yawning, I struggled into my clothes and stumbled downstairs carrying the Dachshunds. Their little tails were wagging madly as they tried to evade my grip and get to the front door. Instead, I deposited them by the back door and forced them outside to do their business in the garden, then I went to let Basic in.

  ‘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 final
ly 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.