Blue Moon Investigations Ten Book Bundle

by steve higgs

  ‘Yes, his friends suggested that he had some big plan for them, I was playing along and making out like I was in on it all and that got them talking. I started bragging about how cool it was that he cursed them when they wouldn't do as he asked, and I managed to get two names.'

  ‘Names for the girls?’

  ‘That's not all. I then found them on Meet Market by posing as a boy looking for a girl and messaging them using voodoo curse in my message headline.' He had made three teas already and was talking as he walked us back through the house to the office. He put his tea down and clicked the mouse. ‘Martine Davidsdottir and Louise Pemberton have both been on dates with Bartholomew and both broke up with him within a few weeks because he was scary. Both then suffered the same affliction as Kimberly after he showed up at their houses and cursed them.'

  ‘Great work, James. Next you are going to tell me you have addresses for them.’

  He reached to the printer and pulled off two sheets of paper. ‘Home and work addresses.’

  ‘You also said they referred to him as the Magdalene King.’

  ‘Um, they used the name, but I'm not certain they were referring to him. I printed those pages off as well in case you wanted them.' He juggled some paper on the desk until he found the pages he wanted then handed them over, so I could read them. Patience moved and peered over my shoulder.

  We each read the long conversations that James had had with several different men via social media. He had lulled them carefully into giving away lots of bits of information by doing exactly what he had said – he took one piece of information from one person and used it to make it look like he knew something when talking to the next. What stuck out was the use of the name Magdalene King which appeared a dozen times or more. At no point did it say directly that Bartholomew was the Magdalene King, but his last name was King, so it wasn't much of a leap to connect the two.

  The Magdalene King. Now that would be a collar.

  Patience's belly gave another loud rumble to remind me she wanted breakfast. I wondered if she was able to make it do that on command. I slurped my tea, it was still quite hot, but it was clear that I would have to find food for Patience soon or deal with a whole lot of mood from her.

  ‘James this is great.' I acknowledged, stuffing the pages into my bag. I will visit the girls this morning, if I can, and see what I can learn.' I finished my tea and walked the empty mug to the kitchen. ‘Patience are you with me?'

  ‘Patience isn’t with anyone until she gets fed.’ She answered snippily.

  ‘No problem. I will take you to get food now. You do realise though that if we catch the Magdalene King you will have closed the single biggest case the Maidstone Police department has ever had.' Her eyes bugged out. She had not been adding things up. With Tempest away, I needed an extra pair of hands. Besides, I was right. All I needed to do was solve the case for the client, Patience could have the arrest. I could see her thinking about it now.

  ‘Well, why didn't you say that to start with? Let's go, girl. We got a bad guy to catch.'

  We headed for the door, but James moved to intercept us. ‘There was one other thing I needed to tell you.’ He had our attention. ‘I have a date with Bartholomew tonight.’

  Crazy Dates and Safety Words. Tuesday, November 1st 1027hrs

  James had blurted the startling revelation out then stopped talking. Patience and I were just staring at him.

  ‘Say what?’ Patience asked.

  ‘I, ah. I went onto Meet Market to create a profile to find the girls Bartholomew had dated and then cursed. Then it occurred to me that if I created another profile as Jane, I might be able to lure him into meeting somewhere. You said he keeps a large entourage with him, but I figured he might not take them on a date, so you would be able to get him alone.’ James was wringing his hands together waiting for me to say something, nervous that I might tell him he had done wrong.

  ‘That is genius.’ Was what I finally said. And it was. When he dressed as Jane, he was utterly convincing. Apart from the flat chest, it was impossible to tell that it was boy beneath the blonde wig and makeup until he opened his mouth. If you looked close enough you might be able to see his Adam’s apple, but he tended to wear large floating scarfs that would cover it up and hang down to cover the lack of breasts.

  If we could get Bartholomew alone, we might be able to have a rational conversation with him. Or maybe, if we let the date play out a bit, Jane/James might find out something that would help to close the case – like what it was he wanted a girl for. If his friends were to be believed, he had an ulterior motive that was not sex. At least, it didn't sound like it was sex.

  ‘What time is your date?' I asked.

  ‘Eight o’clock at the George in the town centre.’ He meant Maidstone town centre. It was a nice bar that used to be a ratty old pub until someone bought it a few years ago, gutted it and transformed it into a wine and gin place. Now it was quite sleek, and because they did not serve beer at all, the regular crowd of loud, obnoxious boozers avoided it.

  ‘I think we can make this work, but it will need a little planning.’

  ‘You will need to change your outfit for a start.' Patience added unhelpfully. James was wearing black drainpipe jeans and a pair of new-looking back sports shoes. On top, he had on a white oxford shirt and a thin jumper. He looked like a man.

  ‘How long does it take to become Jane?’ I asked, being cautious about my words as I was not sure what he was sensitive about. Was the correct term transform? Or was it regenderfy? I had no idea.

  ‘About half an hour.’ He replied.

  ‘We should meet before you go so we can discuss your approach and when we swoop in if it becomes necessary.'

  ‘A safety word.’ Patience interjected.

  ‘Safety word?’

  ‘Yes, like when you’re doing role play and need to stop it going too far.’ She explained while rolling her eyes at me. ‘I always give the boy a safety word so that he can bail out of character if I hurt him too much.’ She habitually made me feel like my sex life was boring or juvenile. I sometimes felt like asking her more about it but worried that my ears might start bleeding from the details.

  I pressed on, rather than dwell on her role play analogy. ‘Shall we say seven o'clock at my place?' I had Brett coming over, but I could push his arrival back a bit and not break the date for the second night in a row. Bartholomew knew my face, so it would be better for James/Jane if I stayed away from the venue. Patience could go though. I would ask her shortly, then convince her if I had to. Tempest often hired in Big Ben and others to bolster numbers when he needed them for a particular case, so I would only be doing the same. It felt like I was operating autonomously and doing exactly what Tempest would do.

  ‘That works for me.' James said. ‘I will get changed and come over ready to go.'

  ‘We need to do something about your voice.’

  Patience was right. James’s voice was a deep rumble from somewhere in his chest. He sounded nothing like a girl. ‘Can you make yourself sound like a girl?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ He replied in a squeaky falsetto. It would need some work. It was a major flaw in our plan if he was not allowed to speak. ‘I’ll work on it.’ He said, trying again. The second attempt was as bad as the first.

  ‘Make sure that you do.' Said Patience, then turned to me. ‘Girl are we ever getting breakfast?' It is nearly lunch time now.'

  ‘Goodbye ladies.’ Came a high squeak from behind us as we headed for the door. James sounded more like Mickey Mouse than anything else.

  Burgers for Breakfast. Tuesday, November 1st 1112hrs

  Patience's breakfast destination of choice was a burger bar in Aylesford that had been converted from an old petrol station. She was right in that it was closer to lunch than it was breakfast, but she was also right about the food. I had never even noticed the place before and must have driven by it dozens of times. Inside it was full of memorabilia from the fifties and sixties and
an old Wurlitzer jukebox was playing tunes from that era. The waitresses were all dressed up with headscarves to hold their fake blond ringlet hairdos in place and had on hot pants and tight tee shirts. The place was almost full even though it was before noon on a Monday.

  I had gone into the place with no intention of eating, but now that I could smell the food, I acknowledged that not only was I hungry, but I also really wanted to try one of the juicy burgers I had seen going by.

  We were led to a booth and handed menus to peruse by a woman that was chewing gum and looked like she had been serving tables for fifty years. ‘Have you eaten here before?' I asked Patience. She had already put her menu down and looked ready to order.

  ‘I’m having the double happy burger. What are you having? You should try the buttermilk chicken waffle burger. They served the chicken breast in batter and served between two sticky potato waffles. Not the cheap kind you get in the frozen aisle. These are made here on the premises.’ Patience was describing the food with reverent awe.

  The waitress came back and there were simply too many options on the menu for me to decide for myself. I followed Patience’s advice and ordered the chicken thing. While we waited, I picked up the subject of Jane’s date tonight.

  ‘Are you free to go to the George with Jane tonight?' I explained that I could not go because of the danger that Bartholomew would spot me, but she seemed less than convinced that this was something she wanted to do. Even the offer of payment did little to sway her.

  Then a thought occurred to me, ‘Big Ben offered to help out if I needed him on my cases…’ I had her attention now. ‘Maybe I should ask him to come with you.’ I left that idea hanging for a moment. Before she could answer our burgers arrived.

  And they looked good.

  Patience wasn't touching hers though. Halfway through lifting mine to my mouth I stopped. I realised that Patience was stunned because, despite her claims regarding the matter, she genuinely liked Big Ben. She was in like with him. I doubted she would admit it to me. She might not even admit it to herself, but right this instant she was thinking about the concept of a date with him and it was sufficient to distract her from the juicy burger that she had been hankering for just a few moments ago.

  I took a bite of mine, ‘Eat your burger.’ I said around the delicious meat. ‘I’ll call him when we leave here.’ I had misgivings about her seeing him, certainly about her pursuing him as he was basically a dog in permanent heat, but she was a grown woman and could make her own rules.

  Patience looked like she wanted to say something. Maybe to deny that she was thinking about him, but instead, she grabbed her burger as if she had only just noticed it was there and took a large bite from it. Grease spilled on her chin.

  ‘So, what’s your next move?’ she asked when she had cleared her mouth.

  ‘Jane was not able to get a number for the two girls she found via Meet Market, so I am going to have to track them down physically. I am willing to bet that they are both at work, so I will try their work addresses first. If I strike out, I can go to their homes tonight.' I took another bite of my chicken burger and snagged a few fries.

  Patience finished her burger. I was still only two thirds through mine. She was holding up greasy fingers and looking for a fresh napkin as she had already killed hers. I passed her mine.

  Something tickled my hand and I looked down to see a tiny spider crawling across it. Instantly icky, I shook my hand to free myself of the creature and sent it flying across to the next table where it landed on a fat sandwich about to go into a man’s mouth. Before I could react, he ate it.

  Patience saw it too. I averted my gaze in case anyone else had seen. It was not like I had done it deliberately. Then the man started choking. He was in his sixties and badly overweight, his stick-thin wife opposite him, nibbling at her own sandwich, now looking at him with a worried expression as he was clearly not able to breathe.

  He was making gagging noises as he tried to do something about the blockage in his throat but was getting nowhere and starting to change colour. All around him people were looking his way but doing nothing.

  ‘Heimlich.' I cried as I sprung from my chair. ‘Sir, I need you to stand up.' Tugging at his sleeve got his attention. I couldn't get behind him as he was wedged into a booth, so I had to get him out to get my arms around him.

  He weighed a ton and was barely supporting his own weight by the time I managed to get my fists into his ribcage and heave. A colossal chunk of meat was ejected from his throat to land in his wife's lap. As he started to breathe again, a round of applause rippled about the room and the manager, who had just arrived at our table, shook my hand and thanked me for my first aid skills. Our meal was on the house it seemed.

  At our table, Patience was white as a sheet, her mouth hanging open in horror. ‘That spider was meant for you.' She squeaked.

  I stayed with the man until I was sure he was okay. When he went back to eating his sandwich, I decided he probably was. Ten minutes later we were back in the car and heading for the business district of Kings Hill.

  ‘That spider was sent to kill you.’ Patience said.

  ‘What? How does a spider get sent to kill someone?’

  ‘I saw it on an old James Bond film. The one with Roger Moore and all the voodoo. They send a snake or something to get him. The snake is under the voodoo priest’s control, so it does what he tells it.’

  ‘Patience it was just a little spider.’

  ‘So why did the man instantly choke on it?’

  ‘He choked on his sandwich.’ I was trying to keep my voice calm in contrast to hers which was bouncing around like the world was going to end any moment. ‘The spider was a coincidence, nothing more.’

  We lapsed into silence as I turned the car onto the West Malling bypass heading West away from Maidstone.

  The work address for Louise Pemberton was in the business district there where I knew many large firms housed their national HQs. The purpose-built, and very nicely landscaped layout provided lots of parking and large low-rise office buildings that wowed customers without the firm needing to worry about managing their own facility. I knew all this because I had gone there with others to arrest people several times and had once sat waiting with a secretary that had told me all about it.

  Louise worked for a firm that made carpets. Not that they had any in the office where she worked, the office was for administrative functions such as HR and accounting. A pleasant, middle-aged lady in the reception area asked us if we had an appointment.

  ‘No, ma’am.’ I answered. ‘We are private investigators. I have just a couple of questions for Louise if she can spare us a few minutes.’

  The lady picked up her phone to call through to her. ‘Please tell her this is pertaining to Bartholomew King.’ I advised hoping that would get her attention.

  We sat to wait on expensive-looking chrome and leather chairs. However, a young lady came into reception from the office area less than a minute later looking for us. She was tall and blonde with some Asian heritage showing around her eyes.

  I stood up to introduce myself and hand her a card. ‘Amanda Harper, thank you for seeing us. This is my colleague Patience Woods.'

  ‘This is about Bartholomew?’ she asked. I nodded, and she invited us through to a breakout area in the corner of their plush open-plan office.

  ‘I’ll try not to take up too much of your time, Louise. My client recently met with Bartholomew via a dating website, but when she rejected him after a first date, he pretended to curse her with a voodoo spell.’

  ‘Let me guess: Her hair began to fall out and her teeth and gums bled, that sort of thing?’

  ‘Exactly right.’

  ‘The same thing happened to me. I met him on Meet Market about two months ago. He was handsome and charming to talk to over the internet, but face to face he was just creepy after a while. We went on three dates and when I ended it on the third date by politely saying I did not wish to see him anymore, that I
did not feel we were compatible, he went nuts. We were in a restaurant and he blew some kind of weird grey powder at me. He put his hand in his pocket, did some odd chant thing then blew into his hand and out came all this fine ash or something. He told me I was cursed to be ugly and that the curse would remain in place until I changed my mind. I haven't been on a date with anyone since.'

  ‘Did you suffer any symptoms? Hair falling out that sort of thing?’

  ‘Yes, hair loss, gums bleeding, a sudden outbreak of spots. It freaked me out for a while and I thought that I was seeing him. Bartholomew, I mean. I would spot him from my car on the way to work, just staring at me from a pedestrian crossing or he would be in the supermarket on my way home like he was there by coincidence. He didn't approach me ever. I felt that he was waiting for me to approach him to beg forgiveness, so he would lift the curse or something.'

  ‘Your hair and skin look fine now. What happened?'

  ‘I took a week off and went to stay with my gran in Scarborough. I thought that he would get bored of stalking me if he couldn't find me. I also went to a chemist and asked them about the problems I was having and got a whole new range of toiletries that were free of perfume and other additives. The Free From range. Have you heard of it?'

  I nodded that I had.

  ‘Well, it cleared all the problems up within two days. I returned after a week away and haven’t seen Bartholomew King since and had not heard his name nor given him any thought until you arrived today.'

  ‘Do you think you were cursed?’ Patience asked.

  ‘I don’t know what to think.’ Louise answered. ‘It seems like nonsense, but he puts on a convincing act.’

  Beside me, Patience was all but hyperventilating. ‘Is your friend alright?' Louise asked. The answer to that would depend on what we were comparing her to. I ignored her and moved on.

  Louise had nothing much more to tell us and I had a theory that this went some way to confirm. I elected to leave the second lady, for now, I had more pressing lines of enquiry to pursue and felt it likely that her tale would very much resemble Louise's.