by steve higgs
‘Do you work on all the farms or just this one?’ I posed the question to the group.
Again, it was the mop-haired spokesperson that answered. I wondered if he was a supervisor or something. ‘Mostly here, but occasionally one farm in the cooperative has a task that needs more hands. We haven't been operating like this for very long, not yet a year, so we are still working out how to manage the farms in the most economical manner.'
That was my easy opening question to get them talking. Now to see if I could get anything worthwhile from them.
‘So, you work for Richard primarily, yes?’
They all nodded.
‘Is he away a lot?’
‘Away?’ the spokesman asked. ‘As in not on the farm.’ He clarified. ‘I don’t remember the last time he wasn’t here.’ He checked with his colleagues, but they all concurred.
‘But he is not here now.’ I pointed out.
‘He is working one of the fields. He is very hands-on, both he and Mr. Fallon are. I think they like to be seen as proper farmers rather than owners.'
‘What does working a field entail? How long would he be doing that typically?’
Mop head smiled. ‘Well, it takes Richard all day, but it is only a half day job. We don't like to point out how slow he is, given that he is the boss. He is out there with the ploughing gear turning the field.' He saw that I still wasn't following and expanded his answer. ‘The crop was cut a few weeks back. It then gets collected and bailed using that piece of kit over there.' He pointed to an alien-looking machine parked off to one side outside the milking barn. ‘Then, when time presents itself, we turn the field to shift the roots of the wheat. The remaining organic matter will then rot more quickly and be ready for a fresh crop to be planted next season.'
‘So, with Richard off to work a field, you can predictably expect him to be gone most of the day.’
‘Absolutely.’ Mop head replied as the others all nodded their agreement.
Hmmm. ‘How often do you see Glen here?’ They had lied about Richard being away or had at least been convenient with the truth. They had made it sound like he was off on business for days at a time leaving his wife lonely and in need of company. What else had they lied about?
‘Mr. Adongo? Now and then, I suppose. Why do you ask?'
I shook my head. Then changed my mind. ‘One last question. When was the milk here first affected?’
‘A couple of weeks ago.’ Answered broken nose. Now that he had found his voice, he was full of answers. It matched what I had heard from everyone else.
‘Why do you think this farm was affected first?’
Broken nose kind of shrugged.
Mop head was wrinkling his brow though. When I looked at him, he said, ‘No. it happened at Mr. Adongo's farm first about a month ago.'
‘Really?’ Broken nose looked unconvinced.
‘It was just a handful of the cows. Derek called me over to take a look at it. He was in a panic because he thought he had done something wrong. I figured something had got into the machinery, so we ditched the milk, isolated that set of pipes and thought no more of it.'
‘And this was, what? Two weeks before Richard’s farm was affected?’
Mop head nodded.
Someone had run an experiment first to see what happened!
I thanked the chaps for their time, left them there and went in search of Patience.
My phone pinged with another text message. It was in the back pocket of my jeans.
Fishing it out I saw instantly that it was from Brett. My heart skipped as I pressed the icon to open the message.
Hey, sexy. Just wanted to make sure we are still on for tonight. I have booked us a table at Brasserie de Mere in West Malling. They serve the best lobster and mussels. I will pick you up at seven. Let me know if you want me to arrive earlier or later xx
I replied.
That sounds wonderful. I am already hungry thinking about the food, and about your body. Would you rather just come to mine and order Chinese takeout afterward? xx
I deliberately didn’t say after what, as I hoped it would be obvious and would result in his arrival at my flat in a state of excitement, but without the certainty that we were going to get straight down to it.
Before I got to my car, his reply pinged back to my phone.
Your plan is far superior to mine. I’ll see you at seven xx
I reached my car and clambered in.
‘Wow.’ Said Patience. ‘Did you just have sex in the milking shed with all those guys?’
‘No!’ God, what a thought.
‘Well, girl, you did something because your eyes are dilated, and you have the red skin thing you get on your neck going on. That only comes out when you are turned on, I know that much about you.’
Panicked, I flipped down the sun visor to check myself in the mirror. She was right. I had never noticed that I did that. I could feel the warmth coming from my cheeks.
‘Girl, you better tell me what you been doing now.’ Patience demanded. ‘I might need to crack a window with the heat coming off your face.’ She always loved poking fun at me.
‘I was texting with Brett.’ I admitted haughtily. He was my boyfriend and I was allowed to exchange saucy messages if I wanted to.
‘Show me.’ She begged. ‘Show me, show me, show me.’
‘No.’
She made a grab for my handbag.
Surprised, I shouted, ‘Get off!’ As I yanked it away, but she managed to snag one handle and had her hand inside it rooting around for my phone.
‘Show me your dirty messages, Amanda.’ She pleaded as I smacked her hand away and reclaimed my belongings.
A rap on the window made me jump. ‘Everything alright, ladies.’ Asked mop head through the window. ‘I could see what looked like a fight.’
I powered the window down. ‘Sorry. My friend and I were just leaving.’
‘You dirty girl.’ Patience had found my phone while I was distracted and was reading from the screen, the light of it illuminating her face.
I lunged for it. ‘Give that back.’ She put out a hand to hold me back as she scrolled through the messages. I tried to punch her in the ribs but got her right boob instead.
‘Ow! Amanda.’
I snatched the phone back. ‘These are private messages, Patience. I don’t want you to read them.’ I could hear a whining tone in my voice. I turned back to mop head, but he had gone.
‘You are too uptight, Amanda. That man of yours is fine so I am glad you have a booty call arranged for tonight, but you could whip him into a frenzy with a few choice words.’ I could tell that she was waiting for me to ask her what I should have written. When I didn’t, she pressed on anyway. ‘If it had been me setting up an evening of…’
‘Intimacy?’ I filled in the blank.
‘I was going to say cock play, but okay, intimacy it is. Then I would have written…’
As I reached the end of the path that led from the farm to the main road, I had to pause to let a procession of vehicles go by. I was looking for the last one to go by so I could pull out when Patience asked, ‘What's BARF?'
At the mention of the name, I looked at the vehicles more closely. I had thought they were Army trucks, out here to do some kind of manoeuvres or something. Now I was looking though, I could see that the camouflage painted on the outside was a deep crimson and black.
On the side of each vehicle, was B.A.R.F. in three feet high capital letters. I debated following them, but I had no idea where they might be going or how long I could be tailing them for. On top of that, I wanted to hear what the crime scene guys had to say and needed to go via Rochester High Street first.
The last truck went by, giving me a chance to look into the back of it. There were troops inside. I couldn't get a good look at them, but there were definitely uniformed bodies sitting on the bench seats within. I made a mental note that BARF was, in fact, real, and pulled away.
As I drove back to Rochester, Patience regaled me on the fi
ner points of getting men horny. I’m not going to repeat what Patience would have written in her version of my text to Brett, but it was horrifying enough to make the wax run out of my ears. It was my experience that getting a man horny really didn’t take much, but perhaps there was something I could learn.
Coming through Strood, she finally finished and fell quiet. In the silence, I remembered that I needed to check in with the crime lab guys. I called the main line to the lab itself rather than Simon’s cell phone.
‘Crime lab.’ Steven answered.
‘Hi, Steven, it’s Amanda. I had a text from Simon to say he had news for me on the items I dropped off yesterday.’
‘Ah, yes. Did he also say that we are holding the information until the ransom is paid?’
He was on speaker in the car, so Patience heard what he was saying as well. ‘What ransom?' She asked.
‘Donuts.’
‘Is that Patience I hear?’ Steven asked.
‘It is. We have been investigating. Now we are on our way to Mr. Morello's Royal Cake Shoppe in Rochester to buy your donuts.'
Patience’s head and eyes whipped across to stare at me, her excitement visible.
I disconnected the call. ‘What?’ I asked her, knowing, of course, exactly what she was getting excited about.
‘We're going for donuts at Mr. Morello's?' She said his name with reverent respect.
‘I promised the chaps at the crime lab I would get them a box for helping me out again.’
‘Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod.’ She began doing a happy dance in the car. ‘Donuts, donuts, donuts.’
I had eaten cakes at Mr. Morello's place before, so I knew that not only was everything inside the hallowed walls fantastic, but the chaps at the crime lab would see that I had gone to some extra effort, rather than get them a tray from a supermarket. It was a mark of appreciation for their help.
Patience reached over to grab my wrist. ‘Drive faster.’ She instructed, although I could not tell if her tone was mock-serious or if she really meant it.
‘What?’
‘I mean it, Amanda. I love you like the skinny white sister I never had, but if you don’t hurry up, there’s going to be trouble. Patience needs a donut.’
I laughed at her and put my foot down.
Rochester High Street. Friday, November 11th 1600hrs
It was already twilight by the time I parked the car in its spot behind the office. Since James was now working full-time hours, he would still be there. I could have checked in on him by phone but dropping in seemed not only friendlier but gave me the opportunity to have him show me things on his computer.
‘Where are we going?’ Patience wanted to know.
I unlocked the back door to the office and pushed it open. ‘This is the new office. Tempest rented it on Monday and we moved in on Tuesday.’
‘What happened to the old place?’
I stopped to turn and look at her. ‘It burned down?’ Surely, she remembered that happening.
‘Oh yeah. Sorry, I’m feeling a little woozy, my blood sugar must be getting low.’ She raised her voice when she said blood sugar, so I would understand I was delaying her rendezvous with the donuts.
‘This won’t take long.’ I assured her with a sigh.
I led her down the short corridor at the back of the office which linked the outside with the inside and kept the storeroom and toilet hidden from view in the main office area. The next door, which opened into the main office, also had a lock but we never bothered with it. Tempest reasoned that if someone had gone to the trouble of breaking down the first door, they would just keep going so we would have two broken doors to fix instead of one.
I pushed it open and called out, ‘Hi, James. It’s Amanda and Patience.’
It wasn't James inside though but Jane. I hadn't seen my cross-dressing, gender-neutral colleague as a girl for more than a week. She was wearing thigh-length, tan-leather boots over cream leggings and a chunky-knit brown jumper than hung loose off her right shoulder to show the lacey strap of her bra. I hadn't known Jane to wear a bra before – there was nothing to put in it after all, but we had dressed her up as bait for the voodoo priest and convinced her to wear one at that time. Perhaps she had decided she liked it. I wasn't going to ask.
‘Hey, you’ve got tits.’ Pointed out Patience.
Jane's face reddened beneath her makeup. I elbowed Patience to shut her up.
‘Hey.’ She said, rubbing her arm. ‘I’m just saying. It completes the picture.’ She switched her focus to Jane. ‘What size did you go for? They look kinda small.’
‘Um.’ Said Jane.
‘I’m just saying. If you can pick whatever size you want, why pick small?’
I changed the subject. ‘How has research gone today?’
Thankful to be able to talk about something other than her fake boobs, Jane swivelled in her chair and got up. ‘Not bad. You ladies want some coffee?’
‘No.’ said Patience. ‘We are going for donuts. Aren’t we, Amanda?’
‘Coffee sounds great.’ I replied because it did. ‘We have time for a coffee, Patience.’
I could hear her muttering under her breath as Jane and I started fiddling with the new coffee machine. She flopped into one of the chairs, feigning exhaustion from lack of food.
‘Tempest has been quiet today.’ Jane observed. ‘He usually checks in towards the end of the day to see what enquiries have come in or to ask what I have been able to find out if he has asked me to do research. Nothing from him today though.’
‘Are you doing research for him?’
‘No. He is in the middle of that witch case. It seems to be driving him nuts like he cannot work out how the witch is killing with lightning or even who she is or what is motivating her. He did say that Frank had an explanation for him as usual. Not one he believes, I expect. He is certain there are four wives that are guilty, but he can’t prove it.’
Hmm, Frank. Would Frank be able to shed any light on my case? Tempest often went to see the slightly-odd, occult bookshop owner because he had an explanation for everything Tempest came across. The explanations were always bonkers, yet Tempest seemed to use them to find a way to the truth. Maybe I should try the same.
I remembered something, ‘Did I hear that his client is in the hospital?'
‘Yeah. Anthrax poisoning. Can you believe that? Of course, Tempest blames himself for not solving the case sooner.’
The machine was delivering thick dark liquid and filling the office with the wonderful aroma of roasted coffee beans.
‘I dug up some information for you on the clients in your case.’
‘Do tell.’ I begged.
‘Want one?’ I offered a coffee to Patience who declined. She was fiddling with her phone and paying us no attention.
‘Well, you know that Glen Adongo and his partner weren’t married. I also found that Glen wasn’t a farmer like you said.’
Now she had my attention. ‘What was he?’
‘A geologist. He came to the UK ten years ago and got a job at a University teaching the subject.’
He lied. He lied about it all. Had he ever been a farmer? And what about his partner? Was the relationship fake?
All I was doing was generating more questions. ‘Anything else?’ I asked.
‘Not yet. I’ll keep on it though.’
I thanked Jane for her help, slugged down the last of my coffee and picked up my bag. Patience was instantly on her feet.
‘Time to go?’ She asked, her feet almost vibrating with energy.
‘Yup.’
Half a second later, Patience had the door open and had stepped back a pace to allow me passage. Outside it was cool and the twilight had shifted to full dark. A few rain spots were falling. I tightened my coat around my neck and turned left.
‘Hold on, Amanda. You're going the wrong way. Mr. Morello's is this direction.' Patience was pointing in the opposite direction to the one I was going. I smirked to myself. I was deliberately
making her wait because I knew it would annoy her.
‘We have to visit Frank first.’
‘What!’ Patience was genuinely horrified that I was making her wait yet longer.
‘It’s just around the corner. I have a question to ask him.’
‘Who the hell is Frank?’ Patience yelled as she hurried after me.
The Little Bookshop of Horrors. Friday, November 11th 1622hrs
I had first met Frank about two minutes after I met Tempest. It was a chilly morning that had seen me managing access to a murder scene as part of my duties as a police officer. Tempest's arrival had heralded the start of a shift in my life and acted as a catalyst to my transition from uniformed service to independent investigation.
Frank was an odd-looking man in his early forties that ran a bookshop just around the corner from the office. The bookshop specialised in all things paranormal or supernatural and catered to the endless stream of persons wanting horror comics and movie figurines as well as those that were believers in the occult and wished to seek out publications that would reinforce their fantasies.
Frank was a true believer. That much was obvious to me in the first few seconds in his company and I would have dismissed him as a nutter were it not for Tempest’s insistence that he was a helpful resource.
I pushed open the door that led up a flight of old wooden stairs to his shop.
‘Where are we going, Amanda?’ Asked Patience again.
‘To see Frank.’ I repeated my previous answer.
‘Who the hell is Frank?’ It was a cyclic conversation that was about to end as the little bell jingled above my head and Frank’s engaging smile popped around the corner of a bookcase to see who his latest customer was.
The smile was attached to the rest of his face, which was unremarkable unless one wanted to remark about how unremarkable it was.
‘Someone mention my name?’ He said as he emerged from behind the bookcase. He had an armful of books that he had been loading onto a shelf. ‘Oh, hi, Amanda.’ He juggled the books so he could shake my hand.
‘This is Patience, a former police colleague.’ I said as she came into the shop behind me.
Patience was looking around, taking in the general décor and tone of the shop. ‘Do you murder people in here?’ She asked as she inspected a glass case filled with foot-high models from the Hellraiser films.
