by steve higgs
‘Err, are you okay?’ she asked.
I had been looking at her rather than speaking. ‘Err, yes. Sorry. And yes, the dogs are mine. Bull on the left and the squidgy looking one is Dozer. I’m Tempest.’
‘This little princess is Lula.' She said stroking her dog affectionately. ‘Are the boys done?'
‘Done? You mean castrated? No. I couldn't bring myself to do that to them.' At the thought of it, my testicles tried to make themselves smaller.
‘Hmm, this little one is about to come into season. It is probably why your boys are so interested in her. Would you be interested in breeding with me?’
Mr. Wriggly woke up instantly.
I wanted to smirk – like a boy would. I was actually finding it quite hard not to, but I maintained my straight face. ‘I have never given any thought to having the dogs breed. I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t though.
‘Can I get your number then, Tempest?' She stood up finally. I was glad of it. I had found it a little hard to concentrate with a pretty girl crouching with her head at my groin height and asking if I wanted to breed with her. ‘I'm Elizabeth.' she said, sticking out her hand for me to shake.
I smiled, shook her hand and gave her my business card so that she had my mobile number and email. The three dogs were still circling each other, the boys very keen on Lula, Lula very keen on the boys. There was a lot of butt investigation going on.
‘Come along, Talula.' Instructed Elizabeth, giving a tug at her lead. Reluctantly, the little dog allowed herself to be pulled away from the boys. I had to hold them in place as they were trying hard to follow her. I guess she was giving off a scent they were finding hard to resist. I knew how that was.
Walking back to the car I wondered if they would get some action before me. It seemed very possible that they would. But hold on. Would it be both the boys with little Lula? I did not know what was normal. Well, I might never hear from Elizabeth again anyway.
A Date with Sophie. Friday, October 28th 2015hrs
I had arrived home at 1816hrs, well after the dogs appointed dinner time, so was not surprised to watch them run to the cupboard that housed their food and bowls. Dinner might be a little late, but they were well exercised and would be no trouble for Mrs. Comerforth tonight. I would drop them off just as I was going out, although I was certain my neighbour would happily have them right now.
I was already hungry, so I took an apple from my fruit bowl and headed upstairs to shave, floss and make myself as clean and presentable as I could.
In Rochester, I parked the car in its usual spot behind my office. I considered popping up to my office. There was a stack of information on the Klowns that I wanted to check, but I worried that I would become engrossed in it, forget the time and arrive late for my date with Sophie. I could not risk that, so I bypassed my office door and headed along the High Street. I noticed the two guys in suits from Wednesday once again. They were dressed in casual clothing this time and walking along the High Street towards me. I thought about approaching them but reasoned that if I made it clear their cover was blown, they would just get replaced by someone that I would not recognise and who might be better at the job of staying out of sight. Besides, if the Klowns did attack me and these guys were Police, it would help to have them around.
Walking back through the door of the restaurant I was pleased to see a little plastic sign claiming my chosen table as reserved. A lady at the door took my coat and escorted me to the table where I made sure everything was to my liking. I gave the lady a description of Sophie so that she would be able to act as if she were expected and instinctively bring her across.
Sat idly waiting at the table, I considered the Klown case again. No one had tried to kill me or anyone I knew for almost forty-eight hours and no crimes had been reported at all. Why? Were they planning something big and that meant they were too distracted to commit other crimes? It was a worrying thought. That the Klowns had simply disbanded and gone back to their previous lives seemed implausible. That there appeared to be no reason for the crimes in the first place did not help me to rationalise why they might stop.
So, if I ignore that the Klowns have stopped and go back to the one person at the centre theory…
What if the person at the centre isn’t me? What if it is one of the Klowns instead? Who is Deadface? My brain went around in a circle trying to work out how the people that had been attacked were linked and why. Were they just not linked at all and the whole crime wave perpetrated by the Klowns was sporadic and random? How do you get a group of people to dress as Klowns and then convince them to maim and kill random people?
What if each of them was somehow linked to Deadface? As always, there was a piece of the puzzle that I could perceive but could not actually see. Something tantalising, hiding just out of sight.
‘Good evening, Tempest.' Sophie said right next to me, making me start. I had been so deep in thought I had not only failed to hear her approach but had totally forgotten I was waiting for her. My reaction had caused her to jump in turn.
‘My Lord, you gave me a scare, Tempest.’ she laughed, one hand on the table to support herself as if the shock had made her legs weak.
‘Sorry, Sophie. I was deep in thought and did not hear you.’ My pulse was returning to normal thankfully. I got out of my chair and went around behind her to the other side of the table. ‘Good evening, Sophie. Thank you for joining me.’ I said as I pulled out her chair.
‘Thank you, Tempest.’ she replied, manoeuvring to the chair but instead of sitting down she turned to face me, leaned in and kissed me gently on the lips. Pulling away again she smiled at my surprised expression. ‘I always get so nervous on dates, wondering if the boy will want to kiss me, whether I should try to kiss him, trying to work out when I should do that. I thought that maybe if we got a kiss out of the way early on it would make it easier.’
Sophie was being really sweet, it was most endearing, and I liked it a lot. She turned around again and allowed me to push in her chair. I tried very hard to not hear what Mr. Wriggly had to say about her delightfully toned bottom. He was right though.
The Maître d’ himself came across to deliver water and menus and ask about wine then returned a few minutes later with a bottle of 2014 Châteauneuf Du Pape Les Cornalines. I planned to have one glass and see how the evening went. If I felt inclined, I could always get a taxi home and come back for the car in the morning.
‘Tempest, I would like to set just one ground rule for tonight, if that is okay?’
‘Go ahead.' I replied. I was fairly sure I knew what she was going to say. Doubtless, the lady had been forced to calm the amorous advances of men hoping for first date action many times in the past.
‘No talking about exes.’
‘Oh. Okay.’ I tried to suppress the surprise in my voice and the cheer that came from beneath the table. It was not what I had been expecting at all.
‘There is nothing worse than hearing about the ex-wife and I know that I can be guilty of bringing up my ex-husband. There you go, I did it already.’
‘I was not aware that you had been married.’
‘Unfortunately, yes. For three long years. The first thing I did when I got the paperwork through was change my name back rather than have the permanent reminder there every time I signed my name.’
He changed his name.
I stood up immediately. There was a look of confusion on Sophie's face. As usual, all the information had been right there in front of me the whole time and I had been unable to see it. How had I been so blind?
I started moving towards the door, oblivious to everything around me. Her voice arrested my forward motion.
‘Tempest?’
I turned, twitching with indecision. ‘Sorry, I have to go.' I blurted and left her sat there looking bewildered. I rushed from the restaurant with my brain whirling. I had just glimpsed the answer and I did not like it. I needed to head back to my office so I could cross-reference with the information th
ere. I knew I was going to be right though. He had changed his name and now that I knew what I was looking for, I could tell that I had already seen it. It made everything make sense. Why I was at the centre of it, why the victims seemed to have so little in common. I was certain that they all had one specific thing in common. I just needed to prove it to myself.
‘Hey!’ I heard Sophie’s voice behind me. I almost paused but I had to deal with the Klowns first. Sophie would either forgive me or she would not. I would find out later.
The restaurant was less than half a mile from my office so only a few minutes later I was opening the bottom door and going inside.
In my office were the whiteboards and map and a ream of information that Jane had printed off and sorted into piles. I went directly to the pile that listed all the school children Edna Wilkins had taught. On page six, halfway down, I spotted his name. I had read the page earlier but while I had seen the name it did not register until I considered that it might not have been the one originally on his birth certificate.
He had been given up for adoption at birth by a fifteen-year-old girl. Somewhere along the way, he had assumed a different name. It was so ridiculously obvious.
I dropped my bag on the desk and swung myself around and into the chair. A quick flick of the mouse brought the screen to life.
I typed his name into google and had results a nanosecond later. There were a number of options, yet none of them were what I wanted. I tried again with a cross-reference for work history and opened a separate window for social media feed to see what I could find out about the person's friend group.
The work history listed a dozen firms going back over twenty years. Some periods of employment had been quite brief but I spotted what I had hoped to see instantly. I already knew the name of the firm because two of the victims had worked there. Mark Tanner and Erica Carpenter both worked at Inspirations Web Developers in the early nineties and so had Nigel Havers. It was enough to convince me I was right although I checked for more connections anyway. Ten minutes later I had found a link between him and more than half the people that had been targeted by the Klowns.
Nigel Havers. Better known as Obsidian Dark. The man who had been most closely involved with the Vampire serial killer had escaped the Police and justice and was still on the run. Except he wasn’t running, he was attacking.
Back then he had been dating Angela Barclay. Now she was dead and so was the man she had started seeing after Nigel fled. She had been coming to see me. Had she known? Or just suspected? The victims were girls he had gone to school with, people he had worked with. People, who given the comparative ages were most likely in supervisory positions and had thus somehow caused the anger fuelling his determined spree of retribution. Was it really that simple? He was going after everyone that had ever upset him, or gotten away with some injustice in his eyes? No wonder I was high up on the list. He had been setting the Klowns to hurt girls that had spurned his advances, or dumped him years ago, targeting old bosses that had made him work, or pulled him up for being lazy. I was guessing, but between the lines, I knew I was right.
When the Vampire ran into a stake in the dark and died, I had wondered for days afterward whether any of the disbanded Brotherhood of the Dead would come after me, pay me a visit in the night but none had, and I had all but forgotten about them and about Obsidian Dark. I had allowed myself to believe that he had left the area, if not the Country. It was what I would have done in his position. Yet he had recruited an army of maniacs that were coming after everyone that he perceived might have wronged him and I was high on that list as were Big Ben, Jagjit, Basic, Amanda, Frank, and Poison plus very possibly my parents. All of us had been involved in taking the serial killer and the wannabe vampires down.
Obsidian had reinvented himself, given himself a new name and had enough resource or money or whatever it took to stay out of Police custody for the last month. Where was he now though?
I turned the chair away from the desk and stood up. Then I remembered Sophie.
Oh, Lord. I had walked out on her, just abandoned her at a restaurant. She was unlikely to forgive me this time, but I had to call her and apologise nevertheless. I heard earned a good shouting at if nothing else. I needed to call the Police, but they could wait two minutes.
I walked over to the mini-fridge by the window. I kept milk and a couple of bottles of sparkling mineral water in it (plus two cans of ready-made G&T just in case). As I opened a bottle of water to quench my thirst, I called Sophie.
While I waited for it to connect, I took a long draft of the water. It was the first water I had drunk all day, most unusual for me as my normal routine involved several litres a day.
I heard the phone connect and Sophie’s voice. She sounded angry. ‘This had better be good, Tempest.’
I was staring out the window over Rochester High Street. The Blood Fest Halloween Festival was getting underway in the grounds of the Castle just around the corner. It had attracted a crowd that was beginning to build in numbers. People were going by in both directions, shops were open late, expecting a boost to their trade from the extra visitors. On the other side of the street was a figure half in and half out of the shadows. He stood out because in contrast to everyone else he was not moving, and I was staring because I could see enough of him to tell that he had on bright red trousers. On the top half was a grey hoody, the man's hands were tucked into the large pocket at the front. He was moving forward, coming into the light.
‘Tempest!' yelled Sophie, trying to get my attention. I disconnected. Staring up at me was a Klown's face shrouded in the hood of his top. From street level, no one would be able to see his make-up unless they looked directly at him. To avoid detection, all he need do is keep his head down and his hood up.
He grinned at me. Even beneath the crazy, garish Klown makeup, I could see it was Obsidian or Nigel or Deadface. Pick a name, he was going to jail regardless. I started moving but stopped. He was holding something up to show me. From the pocket of his hoody, he removed a pair of dog collars. They were mine.
I hit the door at the top of my stairs running full speed, nearly taking it off its hinges as I ripped it open. The stairs were a blur beneath my feet as I flew down them in two bounds and exploded out of the bottom door.
I skidded into the busy High Street having to dodge between people. Many of them paused to look at the crazy man. Obsidian was nowhere to be seen, exactly as I had expected. I jumped up onto one of the many benches that line Rochester High Street. However, the improved view over the heads of the crowd did nothing to reveal his position. I swung my head in every direction, checking the entrances to the many dark alleyways that led from the main road but there was no grey hood heading away from me in any direction that I could see.
I stepped down from the bench, my teeth gritted. I was mad now. If he had the dog collars then he had the dogs, which also meant he had most likely done something to my neighbour Mrs. Comerforth. I was going to push his teeth out with my foot. Or someone else's foot, or if I could find a way to do it, his own foot. If he had hurt my dogs I could not guarantee I would stop hitting him if I started.
I was by myself though and it was likely that Obsidian/Deadface was not. Basic was at home with his mum, Big Ben would be out shagging somewhere, Amanda was on duty… then I remembered that Frank and Poison were here. I had to find them. The crowd of people was thick and getting thicker. I wanted to run but the best I could achieve was a hasty shoving/slipping action to get between the families and groups of friends or couples holding hands. I was heading back to the office, which was not what I wanted to do but I had a spare set of body armour there and a feeling I would need it. I also had a stash of weapons that I badly wanted to get my hands on.
As I reached the bottom door to my office three seconds later, I saw that I had left the damned door open. Looking back, I should have anticipated what happened next, but at the time it came as a complete surprise. I charged up the first few stairs then felt the pres
ence ahead of me. Our eyes connected, it was a Klown, but not Deadface. I heard a guttural growl escape my lips as I charged for him. He had the high ground and my attack made no sense, but I was beyond rational thought and I deserved what I got.
He grabbed both sides of the doorframe and raised both his huge Doc Martin boots to kick me. I feigned left then lunged right and caught both his legs on my shoulder. I was still coming up the stairs with all the speed I could muster which tipped him backward and onto the floor in my office.
He was down, and I was up.
But he wasn’t alone.
Three more Klowns were in the office but that was not the first thing I noticed. The prominent feature of my office was the stench of petrol fumes.
‘Too late, Tempest Michaels.’ said the one to my right. I turned to him thinking murderous thoughts. Brainless murderous thoughts of course because it was four on one and I had no chance. The first punch landed on the left-hand side of my face. It knocked me off balance more than it hurt me, but the next hit was on my jaw and probably from someone different to the person that delivered the first punch. I tasted blood and I went down to the floor, only holding myself up with one hand.
‘Survive this, dickhead.' I heard from behind me. They were going down the stairs, all of them. Fast.
Then there was no air in my lungs and the air all around me was on fire. I hadn't seen the match they threw, but the fuel they had thrown about the place had caught as one and my whole office was on fire.
I was low to the ground, thankfully still close to the stairs. If I had wanted to do anything about the flames eating the walls of my office I could not have. The heat was instantly oppressive, and I needed to breathe – all the oxygen in the office was long gone. Survival meant escape. With no alternative, I propelled myself toward the stairs and in my confusion, I slipped and fell down the length of them.
I hit the bottom door with my head and fell through it and onto the cold pavement outside.
