Blue Moon Investigations Ten Book Bundle

by steve higgs

  Quinn started talking as we sat down, ‘What seems to be the problem, Mr. Michaels.'

  ‘Ian,' I started. I had learned his first name from watching the TV playback of the interview last week. On the screen beneath his face, it had displayed Chief Inspector Ian Quinn. I was using it now because he refused to use mine. He stiffened visibly when I did as if it was a verbal assault. ‘there is a man in Pembury hospital suffering from Anthrax poisoning.' That got his attention. ‘That man is my client. He hired me to investigate the death of his father, a man that was recorded as killed by lightning while standing inside his house. The accidental death that you will find on his autopsy is wrong. He was murdered. A second man was killed by the same method just three days ago at a house in East Malling. The two dead men were known to each other. Both wives had taken out large insurance policies. I believe the two wives are colluding with two other women and a fifth person that is performing the murders while the wives ensure they have airtight alibis.'

  ‘Two men killed by lightning?'

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Inside their homes.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And their bodies were examined by an appointed coroner?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And accidental death was recorded as the verdict?’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘And your client has Anthrax poisoning?’

  I couldn’t be bothered to keep saying yes, so I simply stared at him, waiting for a question that was worth answering.

  ‘Tell me about the fifth person.’

  I launched into a description, doing my best to not call her a witch. I was bored now though, I could see that it didn't matter what I said to him. He was too focused on trying to belittle me and probably had some grand plan for looking superior as he had me escorted from the station shortly. When I finished speaking, I noted that during the fifteen minutes we had been in the room he had not written down a single word.

  ‘I hope you’ll forgive me when I ask what it is you would like me to do about any of this.’

  I sighed. It had become a week of sighing. ‘Ian,‘ He stiffened again but didn't attempt to correct me. ‘I am going to record a statement. I want you to open a case and investigate it because I believe there are at least two more men in serious danger. If a further murder occurs and you have not acted, I will make it clear to the press that you were privy to pertinent information that could have prevented it.' It saddened me that I had to keep threatening people to get them to do their job.

  ‘Then I encourage you to do so, Tempest.’ his tone had changed to one of finality. ‘You take the credit for cases I have solved, you wreck press interviews and belittle the efforts of my team.’ This wasn’t about his team, this was all about him and his power trip up the promotion ladder, but he wasn’t done yet. ‘The very existence of your investigation agency is an insult to the criminal prosecution system and I intend to put you out of business.’

  I stood up. I was wasting my time. ‘My statement?’ I asked.

  He spat his answer at me, ‘Get out.’

  If I could record no statement I could never claim that the police knew about the murders and ignored them. It would be clever if it wasn’t so damned irresponsible.

  The sea of faces in the station watched me as I went by once more heading back toward the door that led out into the reception area.

  ‘Be careful out there.’ Advised the desk sergeant with a chortle.

  A Date with Natasha. Wednesday, November 9th 1707hrs

  I got home from the station right on time for the dogs’ dinner. They met me at the door, sniffed me suspiciously as I was wet again and backed away. It was standard practice for them to go outside whenever I got home but they hated the rain and it was still drizzling.

  They both ran to the back door, saw the rain and changed their minds about wanting to go out. I shooed them out anyway and since I was already soaked and cold I went outside with them and stood on the patio to make sure they got on with their business and didn’t just hide under a bush.

  When I had let them back in and given them their bowls full of dog meat, I finally got out of my wet clothes. They went into the washing machine as a bath ran. I had been cold long enough that I wanted the warm water to penetrate deep into my core.

  I had arranged to pick Natasha up for our date at 1900hrs. Our table was reserved for 2000hrs, so I had allowed time to arrive and park and get a drink and very definitely sit and chat for a while. I had spent very little time alone with Natasha, just one lunch, but I knew her to be charming to spend time with and able to converse on a diverse range of topics.

  As I soaked in the bath, glad to finally be warm, I idly fantasised about having a relationship with Natasha. For a long time, I had wanted a woman in my life, someone I saw many times a week and that I would one day convince to move in with me. I had a picture of co-habitual bliss that was feeling just a little bit more pressing now that one of my good friends was getting married. Jagjit still lived with his parents. They had a big house, but he and Alice were already spending almost all their time at her flat and were looking at property together. He would be moving out of the village and in with her in the next couple of weeks I was sure.

  I came to a decision as I bobbed about in the warm water: I needed to sabotage my chances with Amanda. I had been ready to put my attraction to her behind me until Big Ben had revealed that she was suddenly single again. She was single though through a case of misunderstanding. If I intervened, would they repair their relationship? It would be better for me if she were dating someone else. I was sure of it. Just as I was sure she was not interested in me and that openly pursuing her would drive her from my firm and my life.

  I dried my hands, picked up my phone and called Big Ben. When he answered we had a brief discussion where he repeatedly asked if I was sure about my request, but in the end agreed to find Brett and explain what he had seen. He closed with some advice on what to do with Natasha’s chest in true Big Ben fashion.

  The alarm on my phone pinged just as I put it back down. I had set it just in case I fell asleep in the bath or lost track of time. I had a poor record with dating ladies, life just seemed to get in the way. Tonight, I was going to be on time.

  Getting dressed, I had to open a window to see if it was still raining. I would collect Natasha from her door, not just pull up at the curb outside and the rain meant that I needed to carry an umbrella with me to ensure she stayed dry in her transition from her house to my car. I also needed to know if it was still raining as the dogs could do with a walk. It was though, the steady drizzle of an hour ago had picked up. I would leave them sleeping on the sofa. They would not thank me if I forced them to go out in the wet.

  I gave each a pat on the head and a quick scratch behind their ears, promised them a biscuit upon my return and left them to snooze the evening away.

  I acknowledged, walking to the car, that I had a faint fluttering of nerves regarding the date tonight. I thought this meant that I was genuinely interested in Natasha and thus hoping to not mess it up.

  It was a short drive to her place in Rochester, the address in a new estate developed close to the river and the brand-new railway station. I had never been to the estate before. The area had been industrial warehouses until just a few years ago and hidden from sight behind the large brick-built elevated railway that ran over the river and skirted the town centre before continuing toward the coast. One had to drive under the rail track to access it, but the road had always been there for traffic entering and leaving the industrial estate.

  My satnav delivered me to her door, a shiny new link-detached place. Probably two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs and a kitchen/diner and living area downstairs. It looked spacious enough and to my knowledge, she lived alone. On the short driveway, in front of the garage was a car that I had seen many times before in the pub car park. I had not known it was hers until now.

  Natasha was in her kitchen, a room that dominated the front downstairs
aspect of the house. She saw my car and threw a quick wave to show she had seen me. I doubted that she expected me to get out of my car to escort her from her door and that was why I was going to do it. Not just this once, but forever more if I got the chance.

  ‘Good evening, Natasha.' I said smiling as she opened her door and faced me. ‘You look utterly lovely.' She also smelled wonderful. The scent, whatever it was, hit my nose in a way that gave Mr. Wriggly a tap on the shoulder to wake him up. She was wearing a fitted cream dress that hugged her curves and a pair of navy blue heels that matched her coat. In her left hand was a small clutch bag.

  Hi, Tempest.' She said as she stepped under the umbrella I was holding for her. The umbrella wasn't big enough for both of us to easily be under without being arm in arm, so I moved to step out and hold it over her head. Smiling, she looked at me quizzically, ‘Where do you think you are going?'

  Then she reached her free arm up to loop it behind my head and pull me into a gentle kiss. It was lip action only but there were fireworks coming from downstairs as her ample chest crushed into mine.

  She broke the kiss and leaned her head back, so she had enough distance to bring my face into focus. ‘That’s better. Now take me for dinner, I’m starving.’

  Mr. Wriggly had been willing to bet we were going straight back inside her house for a hearty evening of shagging, but I was okay with him being disappointed. I had been attracted to Natasha from the moment I first saw her behind the bar in my local pub. Until Amanda came along and confused the heck out of me, Natasha had been everything I wanted in a woman and tonight I was taking her out. I had to consider myself lucky.

  In the car, we chatted about what sort of food we each liked and whether she had eaten out in West Malling much, or at this restaurant at all. I learned that like me she didn’t eat out much. There were too many unguarded calories in restaurant food, so tasty though it always was, it was best avoided in practice.

  I found a parking space right in front of the restaurant which sat in the High Street and thus had no car park of its own. The rain had stopped but I took the umbrella with me in case it began again while we were inside.

  Always think of the lady first.

  We both skipped starters and ordered thick steaks with creamed spinach and asparagus. When the waiter asked how she wanted her steak prepared, I was pleased to hear that she liked it rare. I have my steak as raw as a chef is prepared to send it out. I always felt that cooking it ruins the flavour and have an unnecessary frustration with people that asked for it well-done.

  ‘How did you come to pick Dachshunds?’ she asked, changing subjects as the waiter walked away.

  I took a sip of my deep red wine, savoured the intense earthy notes and cleared my mouth before answering. ‘A whim combined with a selection process. I wanted a dog, but I knew I didn't want one that required grooming and lots of care and I wanted one that was long-lived. I didn't want a big dog and I certainly didn't want one that barked a lot. There are so many breeds to pick from, so I tried to be objective and scientific in my selection process, but I had fallen in love with Dachshunds when I was a little boy and part of me could not escape the desire to have one. Looking back now, I cannot tell if my selection process singled them out as one of the viable options or if I tailored the selection process to select them. Regardless, the breed ticked most of my boxes, so I searched until I found a reputable breeder and suddenly I had a tiny Dachshund puppy to look after.'

  ‘Was he your first dog?’

  ‘Yes. With Dad in the Navy, it probably wasn’t practical to have a dog growing up and it was only me that wanted one. My parents like the dogs, but I don’t think they have ever considered owning one themselves. Have you ever had a dog?’

  ‘Me? No, I’m more of a cat person.’

  Ooh! Big black mark right there.

  Natasha talked about having cats growing up and that she had just lost her cat a few months ago when it finally gave up aged just shy of nineteen years old. She acknowledged that it had been a damned old cat but now she was thinking about getting a new one and couldn't decide if she should get a kitten or go to a rescue place.

  Our steaks arrived, looking delicious and thick and meaty and wonderful. I can report that mine was all those things. I had to slow my pace to stop myself from devouring it. I ate alone so often I worried that my manners might slip.

  We elected to share a dessert and chose the cheese board. It complimented the wine she was drinking. I had bought the bottle and allowed myself a small glass leaving her just over two glasses to drink.

  Two hours of pleasant dinner conversation slipped by easily, neither of us having to look at our watches or wonder when it would be polite to escape. The bill came all too soon, the restaurant was closing soon, and we were one of only two couples still being served.

  Natasha offered to pay half. This was always the potentially awkward part of the event, primed with pitfalls where I might inadvertently suggest she could not afford it or was somehow not supposed to pay because she was a woman. I smiled and asked if it was okay for me to pick up the cheque this time. I had arranged the date and felt privileged to be out with her. I thought about making a joke out of it where I suggest she could pay me back in other ways but dismissed the notion as I was likely to make a hash of it and come off as predatory rather than cheeky.

  I thanked the waiter, left a tip and helped Natasha into her coat. Outside it was not raining, but the pavements still glistened with wet under the streetlights and thunder rumbled to let us know there was a storm out there still somewhere.

  I held the car door for her and closed it before getting in myself.

  ‘Thank you for a lovely evening, Natasha.' I said as I started the car. I was looking at her from my seat, her dark, sexy eyes locked on mine. ‘I had a really nice time.'

  She bit her lower lip as she decided how to reply. Then, she leaned over the transmission tunnel, her intention to kiss me obvious. I met her halfway, our lips parting as the kiss deepened and became quite intense. She broke it after a few seconds, one hand holding my face as she pressed her forehead against mine. Her eyes were closed.

  She took her hand away and slumped back into her bucket seat. ‘I like you, Tempest. Take me home.’

  I wasn’t sure what that demand meant. Whether there was hidden meaning in it, but I turned the key and did as I was told.

  Marked for Death. Wednesday, November 9th 2301hrs

  The clock in my car displayed 2301hrs when I pulled up at my house. Natasha had not invited me in. I was telling myself that was the right thing to do. I was very interested in her and was happy to wait for the intimacy to occur naturally and at the right time. That said. I was horny as hell now.

  I had parked in front of her house and opened the passenger’s door to let her out. The bucket seats are so close to the ground that getting out can be a chore. I offered her my hand and was rewarded with a view of her stocking tops as she demurely swung her legs out. We kissed again, but I had deliberately left my engine running to show that I did not expect to be invited inside.

  I walked her to her door, asked her to decide if she wanted another date and get back to me with a proposal for it. I explained that I would be very happy to see her again and would make myself available, work permitting, at any time that suited her.

  All in all, the date could not have gone better.

  Hilary’s car was on my drive. To perform his secret mission today he had first needed to fetch it from his house, a part of the task he was least happy about and had said he could only do it if Anthea was out. I was curious to hear how he had got on but he had gone to bed already. The dogs had been asleep on the sofa but were at the door when I opened it having heard my car no doubt.

  While the dogs scampered in the garden, I tidied the kitchen. In my haste to get out this evening, I had left tea mugs on the side which needed to be moved into the dishwasher and I had to empty the waste bin under the sink plus a few other small jobs.

  I cou
ld hear Bull and Dozer barking at something, so they were not at the back door trying to get back in and were probably glad that the rain had left off for a bit.

  The storm was still out there, the black sky lit sporadically as lightning flashed behind the clouds.

  I was about ready for bed but not desperate to get there so I was going to spend a little time sitting with the dogs, reading a book and sipping a rum and coke. I was off beer and hadn't had a drink since Friday night; one spirit with diet mixer didn't seem too extravagant.

  Moving around the kitchen I detected an odd smell. Something pungent and a little unpleasant. I checked the bin, giving it a tentative sniff. It wasn't that. I looked around wondering if I had knocked something down the side of the oven or refrigerator.

  James had been here while I was in Cornwall, maybe he had a little accident and had not cleaned it up properly and now whatever it was, was beginning to fester in a dark recess of my kitchen. A horrifying thought, however, when I pulled out the oven to see behind and under, there was little more than dust and one very dead-looking pea. The refrigerator revealed a similar picture.

  I stood up and scratched my head. The smell persisted. I took to sniffing my way around the kitchen, a tactic that provided the answer soon enough.

  I was smelling Kevin's farts. Lovely. The toad and his little tank were sat on the kitchen window sill where I figured he would get light during the day and was constantly in my eyeline to reduce the likelihood that I would forget to feed him. He was going back to Frank tomorrow.

  Bull barked his request to be let back in just as I dropped two ice cubes into the dark liquid. I left it fizzing as I went through the house to let them in.

  The ground outside was still wet, small puddles showing on my patio and across the path that wound around the garden. The rain had been persistent for several days, saturating my lawn which was now covered in worm casts. In turn, this meant the dogs came into the house with muddy feet every time they went out and my attempts to keep the mud off my carpet by placing towels down had not been as successful as I had hoped.