Blue Moon Investigations Ten Book Bundle

by steve higgs

  ‘We are The Spook Sleuths!' one announced proudly in a tone that suggested I should have heard of them. He was, to my mind, a little inbred looking. His ears and nose were more pronounced than they ought to have been, he had a schoolgirl complexion with flushed red cheeks and his thin brown hair was already receding badly. He looked like he would grow up to be a Tory politician.

  ‘What does that involve?' I asked, taking an interest.

  ‘Not much,’ answered the second chap.

  ‘Geoffrey,’ his partner complained.

  ‘What, Tarquin? We have been on three of these little ghost hunts now and never seen a thing,’ snapped Geoffrey.

  ‘Why do you keep coming then?’ snapped Tarquin.

  ‘Might meet some girls,' said Geoffrey. Geoffrey was about as butt-ugly as his friend but taller and thinner. At least his features were in proportion and his hairline seemed intent on staying put for the time being.

  ‘What will you do while you are here then?’ I asked. ‘Are you out to catch a ghost or just see if you can spot one?’ I had wanted to press them for more information about the ghosts, but I was fast arriving at the conclusion that they knew nothing worth learning.

  ‘We plan to photograph the ghost ship when it next appears.’ Tarquin was fiddling in his pocket while he spoke, producing a phone which he then swiped to reveal a picture. ‘This was taken on the headland above the village a few days ago.’

  The photograph was of poor quality. It showed the sea at night with the night sky dipping down to touch the water at the edge of the Earth. Centre focus was a white blob which looked mostly like a ship but could have been anything.

  ‘This is really poor quality,’ he explained. ‘It was taken by someone on a phone camera. We have much better photographic equipment, so for the next few nights, we will be camping out on the headland to see if we can capture a better image. If we do, we shall sell it for thousands and get famous.’

  ‘If we don’t, then we go home broke again,’ added Geoffrey in what was clearly dig at his friend.

  The two took to bickering, so I left them to it. I wondered how many of the people in the bar were here because of the supposed treasure or the supposed ghosts. Were they treasure hunters, or ghost hunters or a mix of both? I decided my fatigue was more pressing than my curiosity though, took a rum and coke from the bar instead of another pint and after collecting the dogs from the table, I headed up to bed to read. Maybe tomorrow I would poke around and ask a few questions or maybe I wouldn't. Maybe I would just walk my dogs and visit places where I could get a cream tea.

  Yeah right.

  Heading up the creaking, rickety wooden stairs, I already knew I wasn't going to let this go until I had solved it.

  Exploring Cawsand. Monday, October 31st 0630hrs

  I woke in the dark. I was an early riser, I had been since I joined the army many, many years ago and got used to the benefits it brought. Both Bull and Dozer were on the bed with me. They had snored loudly most of the night, but despite their deep sleep they were both eyeing me suspiciously now in case I was going to dictate that it was also time for them to get up.

  I ruffled their fur, then left the bed heading for the bathroom. I was going out for a run. I didn't run much, I tended to visit the gym and lift weights or go to a martial arts class to get my heart rate up and burn calories. However, there was no gym here and I wanted to take in the view over the village that the cliff paths would offer me. The sun would not peek over the horizon for a while yet, which gave me time to find the way out of the village to the cliffs above.

  I quietly let myself out into the dim light of pre-dawn, shivering against the cold as I stretched in place and berating myself for not stretching upstairs where it was warm. I was wearing nothing but a thin t-shirt and shorts to keep the late October air at bay. I would warm up soon enough once I was running, so my only real concession to the time of year was a pair of gloves. I hated when my hands were too cold to undo buttons or use a key.

  Sitting on a steep cliff as Cawsand did, the run was going to be a challenge both going up and coming down. I was right about the reward though. A twenty-five-minute indirect route to climb out of the village and up to the cliff path above, gave me a view I would remember. The dawn sun was clipping the top of the waves in the harbour and highlighting the colourfully painted terraced houses in a diffused manner as if the sun were being filtered through a darkened lens. Out to sea, there were several boats heading back towards Cawsand. Even from this distance, I could tell they were fishing vessels returning with an early morning catch. Out of breath, I stood and watched until I began to get cold from the light breeze hitting the perspiration on my exposed skin. I turned and started back down, picking out points that I recognised. There on the seafront was the small exposure of pebble beach, which placed the pub roughly halfway along the line of roofs I was looking at. I picked out my car, sat in the car park I had left it in. Its bright red sleek lines made it easy to spot. Along the shore, there were many wooden buildings, fishermen's huts most likely; a place where they could store their gear. A newer looking building, designed to match the others, had a bright white sign that dominated the side. It faced inland, advertising Scott's water sports. I soon lost sight of the shore though as I came down to the village outskirts and the houses there.

  Coming back into the village, I spotted my first person of the day. There was another runner out, but unlike me, the lady running up the hill towards me was fully sheathed in layers of clothing, all stretchy fabrics and thin materials designed to move with the body and remove sweat. She looked like a runner, toned legs beneath an athletic figure with her brunette hair yanked back into a ponytail. It was swishing from side to side behind her head as she came towards me, gawping slightly at the fool out in clothing barely more substantial than pants and vest. I nodded and smiled as we passed in the street but left her to run as I picked up speed for the last mile.

  Going hard for the last minute or so, I arrived out of breath at the pub door. A little shy of fifty minutes had elapsed which I considered quite sufficient for one day's fitness. The wound to my ribs was still sore but was not stopping me from training nor affecting my ability to breathe. The dogs leapt off the bed as I went into the room, showing me that they were keen to get out, their little bladders most likely full now. I stripped off my damp t-shirt, selected a fresh one from the drawer I had placed them in, paired it with a hoody to keep me warm and took them out for a walk. I would rather have taken a shower but did not wish to run the risk that one of the dogs might pee on the floor. The old wooden floorboards might let it run straight through to whatever room was below.

  Walking my little dogs along the path that bordered the seawall, I saw boats both setting off from the harbour and others arriving back. The dogs were fascinated by the new smells, though I kept them tethered to their leads in case they spotted a seagull and chased after it.

  Suitably empty of fluids, the dogs seemed content to be led back to the pub where their breakfast awaited, and I remembered that I needed to text various people to let them know that I had gone away. I made the decision to leave and then left within the space of a few hours, pausing only to set Jane up to work from my house since my office had been burned to the ground on Friday night. Calling people to let them know where I was, wasn’t I task I relished, so I out it off just a little longer, telling myself I would deal with phone calls, emails, and text messages after breakfast.

  Breakfast itself was a sumptuous affair and it might be the case that there is nowhere else to go for breakfast in Cawsand, but the room was packed. The people filling it were the same chaps that had been in the bar the previous night. I recognised many of the faces, although there were plenty of new ones. There were also very few seats left available, leaving me no choice but to share a table with someone else. I realised this could give rise to a conversation where I could ask questions about the ghosts and the treasure though. I selected a seat next to a chap that was just being served his bre
akfast and sat down.

  He was hungrily tucking into a convincing plate of bacon, eggs, sausage, mushrooms, beans… the list goes on. It was quite the full English. The bacon looked to be a quarter inch thick. John the chef appeared almost the second I sat down as if he had been waiting for me.

  ‘Good morning, Tempest. Did you sleep well?’ he asked.

  ‘Very well, thank you,’ I replied with a smile.

  ‘Were you not lonely in that big sumptuous bed?’ It was an oddly personal question. I let it pass.

  Keeping a frown from my face, I said, ‘Not a bit old boy. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Oh, no reason.’ He got on with pointing out the buffet of cold options available behind me. I asked him to make me a copy of the plate the gentleman opposite me had. When he left, I turned my attention to the buffet he had indicated. I needed tea, so helped myself to a cup of that first, then spotted some granola. The fried breakfast was a treat to myself – a special meal because I am on holiday was what I had told myself as I guiltily ordered it. The granola was a healthy choice and would thus balance it out. I knew it didn't work like that at all, but I was hungry, and the granola looked great. Before tucking in though I introduced myself to my breakfast companion.

  ‘Daniel Russo,’ he said in return, offering his hand to shake. He had on a dark grey fleece top with a zip that came down from the neck to the chest. On the left breast was embroidered the words Gold Rush. I asked him about it.

  ‘It's a boat,’ he explained. ‘I work as Mate for a chap who made his fortune finding treasure. It's a three-hundred and thirty-four-foot Halberg-Rassy kitted out for diving expeditions in deep water. He had it specially made to his specification.' I did not know a lot about yachts, but I knew that ordering a bespoke yacht meant the man was seriously rich. ‘We were in Ireland five days ago, diving on the wreck of a second world war supply ship when he heard about the caper here. We left immediately. Arrived here Saturday.’

  ‘Do you think you will find it before the others do?’ I asked, taking a mouthful of the granola.

  ‘That depends if there is anything there to find,’ he replied but I barely hear the words. I was too busy staring at my bowl. The granola was incredible!

  ‘I'm sorry. I missed what you said then.' I had to ask the man to repeat himself because I had just found the best granola on the planet. Tucking into it, I felt even more guilty about the full English I had just ordered. I didn't need it if the granola was this good. I committed right then to stick with the granola for the rest of my stay and pair it with fresh fruit and yoghurts. I had eaten badly last week and could not out-train a bad diet. If I wanted to keep my waistline, I needed to employ some discipline.

  ‘I said it is not uncommon for there to be no ship to find. Ships wrecked hundreds of years ago can be amazing finds, but more usually they are elusive and when someone does find their location the supposed treasure inside is either missing or was a small fraction of what was reported. Still, I get paid either way, so it doesn't matter too much to me what happens.'

  ‘What do you know about the ghosts?’ I asked.

  ‘Not much,’ he said between mouthfuls of bacon. ‘I heard that someone spotted an ancient looking pirate ship sailing past the headland in the moonlight about a fortnight ago. Then it disappeared, but ghosts of the pirates were spotted in the village the same night. Now there are ghost hunters watching for it because every time the spectral ship is seen, the pirates come ashore looking for their gold. Sounds like a load of crap to me.’

  It sounded unlikely to me as well, but I was prepared to believe that something was going on. Daniel's knife and fork rattled onto his plate as he finished his meal. He checked his watch, quickly drained the last of his tea and excused himself. He needed to get to the boat. I bid him a good day and watched him leave just as my fried breakfast was arriving.

  The fried plateful looked appetising, but all I wanted was another bowl of the healthy granola from heaven. I ate what I was served anyway and can report that it was filling and tasty. I vowed though that I would find something healthy for my lunch. My watch assured me it was 0830hrs. As I left breakfast, I took out my phone; it was time to tell people where I had gone.

  The first person I called was Amanda. We had not spoken for a couple of days which was unusual for us. We had only known each other for a few weeks, having met at a murder scene when I began to investigate the vampire murder spree in Maidstone. She had been a uniformed police officer at the time but since then had quit that job and taken a position at my investigation firm. She still had a couple of shifts left before she was officially finished with the police on November 8th but was already working on cases for the firm and had solved one just a few days ago. Unfortunately, she had betrayed my trust last week when she chose to not divulge that I was being tailed by the police who were using me as bait to lure in a group calling themselves the Klowns. The Klowns had subsequently tried to kill me and several of my friends and I was unhappy with her. However, I had cooled a little in the last couple of days and just wanted to move on.

  ‘Good morning, Amanda,’ I said when she answered the phone.

  ‘Good morning, Tempest,’ she replied, her voice sounding like angels singing as always. ‘I was just about to call you. I was heading to work but realised that I don't know where we will do that now. What can I do for you?'

  ‘I needed to let you know that I am going to be away for a few days. I decided I needed some time off.’ I let that sink in for a few seconds.

  ‘What about the business?’ she asked.

  ‘I have no live cases, Jane can handle calls and emails and I will be back at the end of the week. If you wish to tackle anything that comes up, please feel free to do so. Jane can handle the paperwork and billing.’

  ‘Really? Just like that?’ she asked. ‘Where will Jane be working? The office got burned down.’

  ‘I bought new IT gear and office supplies and set her up in my house,’ I explained. ‘The customers will not be able to tell the difference until they wish to arrange a meeting. I asked Jane to put everyone off until the end of the week.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said after a while. ‘I guess that all makes sense. Tempest?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Tempest, look. I wanted to talk about what happened with the Klowns...’

  I cut her off. ‘Amanda, I really don’t want to talk about it. Not now at least. Let’s pick it up when I get back, okay?’

  ‘Okay, Tempest. Have a good week,’ she said while stifling a yawn. We said goodbye and disconnected.

  I sent a text to Big Ben so that he knew I was away and wouldn’t pop around to my house. I did the same for Jagjit and then with a sigh, I called my Mum.

  I was one of those lucky kids that had grown up with parents that stayed together and didn't fight about it. My father was the kind of man that was kind to animals and small children, that put others before himself and was satisfied with the life that he had at a very base level. He was a great father to have been around growing up and now that I was a man, he was still a great father and someone I tried to emulate. My mother was… well, my mother was lovely, but she was also quite hard work. Mum knew with absolute unshakeable certainty that she was right about everything. From astrophysics to fine art, my mother was the ruling opinion in any room. This, while annoying, was not that much of a problem. The issue, in simple terms, was that she also knew best about how I should be living my life. The same concerns about who I should be married to, how many children I should have produced for her by now and what I should do for a living did not, however, apply to my twin sister who was considered to be more or less perfect.

  Anyway, I dialled the number for the phone in their house, knowing that my mother would be the one that answered. So, imagine my shock when my father’s deep voice came on the line.

  Caught off guard, I recovered and said, ‘Hello, dad. You haven’t answered the phone in a decade. Where’s mum?’

  ‘Hey, kid. Your mum is in the bathroo
m. What you up to? We figured we would see you for dinner yesterday.’

  ‘Yeah, about that. I’m in Cawsand,’ I replied, getting the news out quickly like ripping off a bandaid.

  ‘Cawsand? Cawsand in Cornwall?’ he asked, sounding confused.

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘Okay. Why are you in Cawsand?’

  ‘I felt like I needed a few days off work. I haven’t had so much as a long weekend since I opened the business back in the Spring. I booked a room at a B&B, packed the dogs into the car and took a drive.’

  ‘Will you be back for dinner next weekend? Mum has some jobs in the garden I could use a hand with.’

  This was typical dad behaviour; he had processed the news and moved on. ‘I intend to leave on Friday morning,’ I replied. ‘So, I’ll see you for Sunday lunch.’

  ‘Right,’ dad said. ‘See you then. Have fun in Cornwall.’ That was all Dad had to say on the matter. I exchanged goodbyes with him, wished him a peaceful week with my mother and we disconnected.

  Task complete, I put my phone away and considered what I wanted to do with my day. I had come to Cornwall to relax, so what could I do that was relaxing? Solve a ghost related murder case?

  Oh, okay then. If I must.

  I collected the dogs from the room and headed out to poke around in Cawsand. Strangely, I was looking forward to it.

  With the dogs on their leads, I left the pub, stood in front of it flipping a mental coin then turned left instead of right purely on a whim. The street undulated as it wound around the coastline. Sometimes there were houses on the seaward side of the street and sometimes the path was hanging right above the water. I was doing nothing other than exploring the village itself, getting a feel for its rhythm and observing the activity of the people that lived here.