Blue Moon Investigations Ten Book Bundle

by steve higgs

  My Mother got to the table first. ‘Good morning, Tempest.' she said sitting down opposite me. ‘Where did you spend the night?' Her voice had a disapproving tone to it as if no matter what I had been doing it would be something salubrious in her opinion.

  ‘Leave the boy alone, Mary.’ Advised my father, joining the table with two mugs of steaming tea. He handed one to his wife and took a sip of his own. ‘Sleep in the car?’

  ‘I did, yes.’ I replied, fishing their car keys from my pocket and handing them over.

  ‘What did you do about dinner?’ My parents were full of questions this morning.

  ‘I was invited to Roberta’s house for pizza.’ I omitted all other details about my evening, most especially the bits involving various naked people.

  ‘Oh, you didn't sleep with her did you, Tempest? She doesn't have the right body for childbearing. Hardly any breasts at all and her hips are so narrow.' My Mother had very distinct ideas about what sort of woman I should be looking for and what facets should be on my tick list when selecting a wife. I was with her on the breast size thing, bigger is better and all that, but since I did not speak to women based on whether they were ovulating or not I hardly saw that any of it mattered.

  You might think my best ploy at this juncture would be to simply stay quiet. There was no need though as my Mother was not done talking and had no real interest in anyone else's opinion anyway. For her, a good conversation was one where only she got to talk.

  ‘I don’t trust her for that matter. Her eyes are too beady.’

  ‘She is a Police Officer Mother. One might argue that historically it has been considered to be an honourable and trustworthy role.’

  ‘Nonsense, Tempest. I bet there are bent cops everywhere. Why not here as well?’

  ‘How was your afternoon with Gretchen and Tilda?’ I asked, giving her a new topic to talk about. The tactic worked as she launched into a long-winded complaint about the two ladies. They had spent most of the afternoon asking her questions about me. Quizzing her about my investigation and what I had been able to find out. Had I told her who I thought was behind it all if the ghosts were not real after all? Of course, they both believed wholeheartedly that they were real and wished I would stop my investigation for my own safety.

  In the end, I had to stop her. ‘Mother, I think they are both involved.'

  ‘Hmm, what’s that, Love.’

  ‘Gretchen and Tilda. I think they are involved in the conspiracy.’

  ‘What conspiracy, love?’

  ‘What is that you think is going on here, Mum? A man has been murdered, another one hacked almost to death. Someone is creating fake ghosts and a fake ghost ship and there is treasure here somewhere. I don't have all the parts worked out yet but there is a conspiracy to divert attention away from what is really going on and I am fairly sure your two friends are at the heart of it.'

  ‘Don’t be daft, Dear.’ She chuckled. ‘They are just two old ladies. Like me.’

  It was foolish of me to think Mother would see reason. ‘Just be careful around them please, Mother. They were asking all those questions about me because they are worried I will work out what is going on. Someone hit me on the head with an iron bar or a bat or something. I am not entirely convinced I was supposed to survive the attack.’

  My Mother did not seem convinced, even when my Father advised her to listen to me. Dad seemed no worse for his overindulged drinking yesterday.

  Thirty-Three came to the table to take their food order. I had not seen him taking food orders before, I did not think he was trusted to do so as it had always been John before. Perhaps he was avoiding me after last night. I excused myself, telling them I would be back shortly and reminding Dad that we needed a boat today, something to get us around the coastline.

  I went outside to call Mr. Wainwright. He did not answer though. I tried again, letting the phone ring until it went to voicemail. Not to be defeated I went back to the email Jane had said to check his address, then set off for his house.

  Gary Wainwright lived on Armada Road. I had the number but could not tell which way they ran. Were the low numbers at the top, furthest away from my position, or at the bottom, closest to me? I found out soon enough that he lived all the way at the top, where it transpired he had a great view over the village and out to sea.

  His house was impressive. Standing apart from the terrace houses below, his place sat imperiously overlooking the poor people as if it might once have been the Lord’s house. It was not even part of Armada Road really, it was an addition built on a piece of land beyond the end of the road so that it faced directly down the street to allow an unencumbered view.

  There was an electronic gate with a communication panel, but the gate was already open, so I slipped inside to cross the gravel driveway and knock on the oversized front door.

  A lady, that was most likely his wife, answered the door. She was thin in a healthy way and in her early fifties. It was early in the day and she was dressed for sports in lycra leggings, new looking sports shoes and a matching stretchy top that left her arms and shoulders exposed.

  ‘Good morning. My name is Tempest Michaels. I am investigating the rather odd crimes that have occurred in the village and hoped I might have two minutes of your husband’s time.’

  ‘Are you the Police?’ she asked, her brow furrowed.

  ‘No, Ma’am. A private investigator.’

  She seemed confused by my presence.

  ‘I simply wish to ask him about the gold coins he found. Where they were. What state they were in.’

  ‘Oh, well, in that case, please come in. He loves talking about the damned gold coins. I hope you have a while.' She let me into the house and led me through the large vaulted lobby and along a short corridor to a kitchen. At one end of a marble island in the middle of their expansive and well-appointed kitchen was a man sat with his back to us. He was dressed in a casual shirt and trousers with house slippers on his feet.

  ‘Copper fell another two bloody points.’ He announced as he heard his wife approach.

  ‘I told you not to short it.’ She replied. So, he was into stocks and shares. I wondered if that was how he had made his money.

  ‘Gary there is a man here to see you.’ She turned to me. ‘I am sorry, I forgot your name.’

  ‘Tempest Michaels.’ I announced moving past her to hand Gary a business card. I offered him my hand, which he shook while examining the card.

  ‘Paranormal Investigations?’ he asked, his face screwed up in disgust.

  ‘Do you believe in ghosts, Sir?' I asked. It was a leading question.

  ‘Of course not, man.’

  ‘Neither do I. You may, however, have heard that a man was killed in Cawsand a few days ago. His death thus far has been blamed on dead pirates.'

  ‘Of course, I heard. It is all the villagers are talking about.' Snapped Gary, irritation showing.

  I pressed on, ‘And therein lies my purpose. There are no ghosts, so someone living is to blame and I intend to find out whom.' He nodded, showing his understanding or agreement. ‘Mr. Wainwright, I want to ask you about the gold coins that you found. I believe there may be a connection between the gold and other events.’ Behind me, Mrs. Wainwright had decided she was bored and left us to it.

  ‘Bloody gold coins. Those coins are mine. I found them.’

  ‘Can I ask what happened?’ I wanted to get him talking.

  ‘I got over excited and told too many people. That is what happened. Then the government sent a fellow from The British Museum Treasure Registry and all I have now is a receipt.’

  That he was not allowed to retain treasure found on a shoreline was no surprise to me. It could have significant cultural or historic importance or might be delicate and thus in need of specialists to handle it correctly. I believed the receipt had value though and that he may, because of his find, be entitled to a reward at some point in the future. Despite this, he seemed quite angry that he had been forced to hand it over.<
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  ‘What can you tell me about the circumstances when you found it, please? What were the weather and light like? What time of the day was it? As much detail as possible please.'

  ‘Why am I answering your questions again?’

  ‘Because I can get you your coins back.’ I lied.

  His face looked stunned at the news but rather than ask me how I would perform that improbable miracle, he started talking instead. ‘It was really early, maybe eight thirty.’ His idea of early was decidedly different to mine. ‘It must have been about that because it was still mostly dark out. I was walking the dog on the beach, which is my usual practice and I spotted something on the sand. I almost stepped on it. It was the shape that drew my eye more than anything I think. When I bent down to look, I knew immediately that it was an old gold coin. Then I spotted another and then another. Six in total.’

  ‘Which piece of the beach was it?'

  ‘In front of the Cleave.’

  ‘The one with all the rock pools at low tide?’ I confirmed.

  He nodded. ‘The first coin was about halfway down the beach with the remaining ones leading towards the water. They were in a line as if someone was leaving a breadcrumb trail. As in Hansel and Gretel. I thought there might be more in the water, so I pulled off my socks and shoes and waded in. I could not find any more though and cut my foot on a rock.'

  ‘Was there anyone else around?’

  ‘Not when I found them, but old Mr. Morris came past while I was wading back out of the water. He was walking his dog as usual. He stopped to ask what I was doing so I showed him the coins. Then another person showed up, a pretty, young woman out jogging. I had no idea she was the local Police Officer. Well, she tried to confiscate the coins right there and then.'

  Did she now?

  ‘The next thing I knew there was a chap knocking on my door and the coins were confiscated anyway.’

  ‘Did you take a picture of the coins? Or can you tell me what they were or what they looked like?’

  ‘They were Spanish Escudos. A heavy coin by today’s standards. I didn’t take a picture though.’

  I was running out of things to ask him. When he mentioned Roberta trying to confiscate the coins I wondered if there was something untoward about her actions, but now I wondered if he had perhaps embellished the event. It was something to consider but I doubted it was significant.

  ‘Is there anything else you want to ask me?’ Gary enquired.

  I couldn’t think of anything. I thanked him for his time and began making my way back to the front door.

  ‘Do you really think you can get my coins back?’ he called after me. ‘Or better yet, if you find out where they are buried, maybe let me know.’

  Buried?

  ‘I’m sorry. You said buried?’ I had returned to the kitchen door to ask the question.

  ‘They were covered in soil. All of them. Quite dirty in fact.’

  ‘You are sure of this?’

  ‘The dirt? Absolutely. All those idiots looking for them out to sea are looking in the wrong place. The ones I found had been dug up.

  I asked him who else he had spoken to about this and grilled him on it to be sure he was telling me the truth. The truth about who he had told, not about the dirt. I believed the bit about the dirt.

  Walking away from his house and back down towards the seafront of Cawsand I wondered how big of a clue the dirt was. I had a couple of things I needed to have Jane check. Or maybe Lorna would be able to help.

  I checked my watch: 1002hrs. Plenty of day left. On the seafront, before I arrived back at the pub and forgot to do it, I sent an email to both Jane and Lorna asking them to resume the search for Edington Hungerford. Piecing bits together I had arrived at a theory and wanted to see if it were true. I did not like that it might be, as it would be personally disappointing to me. However, even though it felt like a stretch and highly unlikely, all the parts fitted. I believed that setting both girls on it was more likely to yield a successful result than Jane by herself and had included a brief plea for Lorna's help as I had no right to demand it. Her Navy contacts might prove useful to the quest.

  I was going sailing sometime soon, but most likely that would be after lunch which left a couple of hours to poke my nose in elsewhere. Getting whacked in the head yesterday had diverted my attention away from the drone pilots. Jane had turned up nothing on them, so I was going to employ a different tactic.

  The house I had tracked them to was just off St Andrews Place. Having crossed the village from one end to the other, I arrived at the house to see that it was a holiday let. The chaps had seemed temporary yesterday when I listened to them. They were staying hidden and not leaving the village; a policy that could not be permanent.

  I knocked loudly on the door and waited. Nothing happened for a while, then I could see movement inside, shadows moving and the curtain to the front window twitched. I hammered on the door and shouted that I had a parcel to deliver. I had been deliberately hiding my face in case they recognised me, but when the door opened I walked through it, shoving the surprised young man out of my way.

  ‘Hey.' He said, but I had already gone by him and into the house. ‘What the hell, man?'

  ‘Where is your colleague?’ I asked.

  ‘I am calling the Police.’ He stated, pulling out his phone from a back pocket.

  ‘Jolly good. It will save me the bother. Be sure to tell them where Edington Hungerford is won’t you.’

  He paused with the phone in his hands, his face colouring. Behind me, I heard a toilet flush somewhere deeper in the house. The sound increased as the bathroom door opened, then diminished as it closed once more.

  ‘We need more bog paper.’ An unseen voice announced just before a second man came through a door to find himself the other side of me from his friend. He froze, like his friend had, his mouth hanging open in indecision.

  ‘I think we should have a little chat, chaps.' I indicated through to the room at the front of the house where there was a pair of matching sofas. ‘Shall we?' I prompted when neither man moved.

  I went through to their lounge and took a seat. Presently they joined me, both sitting on the other sofa. They knew who I was, or at least I assumed they did because they had been watching me with their drones.

  Neither spoke. So, I did. ‘Chaps, the pirate thing is about to unravel.’ I left it at that because I wanted them to fill in the blanks. I was guessing though. I was sure they were involved, I just could not yet determine how or why.

  ‘What pirate thing?’ asked the chap on the left. Both men were twenty or twenty-one years old by my estimate. They were both skinny and tall, perhaps two or three inches taller than me and wore glasses. The one on the left had a strip of tape holding the frame of his glasses together.

  ‘Which of you is Mike?' I asked. Neither spoke. They were savvier than I had expected and were giving nothing away when I had expected them to cave in seconds. I looked from one to the other, fixing them with a steely, hard-faced glare. ‘Okay, chaps.' I conceded. ‘I cannot force you to talk but be warned: People are going to jail. When I crack this case, you will want to be nowhere near it.'

  ‘No idea what you are talking about, mister.' Said the one on the left.

  ‘I will remind you of that later.' I replied, making it sound like a promise.

  I got up from the sofa in a sudden motion. Both men cowered backward away from me. I left the room and went to look around the house. On the side in the kitchen was a wallet. They had followed me through the house. Most likely they had thought I was leaving when I got up from the sofa.

  Sorry, chaps. I intend to annoy you into making a mistake.

  The one with the broken glasses saw where I was going and lunged to beat me to it. I was closer and faster and a lot stronger. I swatted his hand away as he tried to snatch it from my grasp.

  ‘Michael Shornecliffe?' I said, holding up his driving license. ‘Care to give me your name?' I asked the fellow stood next to him. They
were hopping mad, but neither was brave enough to do anything about the intruder. There were some other papers on the counter, I should have swept them all up when I went for the wallet, so now, when I lunged for them they both lunged too and while I got some, I did not get them all.

  ‘Those are mine.’ The man that was not Michael Shornecliffe said.

  ‘Tough.’ I growled as I stuffed them in my pocket. ‘Like I said earlier. Call the Police.’

  He whispered something to his friend which I could not hear. The two of them grinned at me, which I did not like. It suggested they knew something that I would want to know.

  ‘Where are the drones?’ I asked. I meant to scupper them, and they obviously understood that to be my intention because they suddenly found their balls. Michael opened the kitchen drawer nearest to him, removed a sharp looking kitchen knife and brandished it. His friend did likewise.

  I doubted they were brave enough to use them, but it seemed foolhardy to stick around to find out. I bolted for the front door, neither of them chased me and thankfully I slipped back out into the safer feeling street.

  Stepping away from their house with a nonchalant air, I forced my heart rate to reduce after the brief burst of adrenalin. Time to get back to the pub and find Dad.

  Let's go sailing. Thursday, November 3rd 1240hrs

  ‘Dad I meant a boat with a motor on the back. A speedboat.'

  ‘This is much better.' He said proudly as if the battered looking dingy was a treasure he had found. ‘I haven't been in one of these things since I was a boy at the Naval Academy.' Examining the sorry looking Pacer dinghy, I wondered if it might be the one my father had last been in.

  ‘How long will it take to get around the coast in this thing, Dad?’

  ‘Oh, maybe a couple of hours.’ He saw the disbelief on my face, ‘They didn’t have anything else.’ He protested. ‘The boat hire chaps all said there was no point looking for a boat in Cawsand or anywhere nearby because every one of them has been snapped up by treasure hunters.’