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  In the Doodoo

  with Voodoo

  The Harper Files

  Book 2

  Steve Higgs

  Text Copyright © 2018 Steven J Higgs

  Publisher: Steve Higgs

  The right of Steve Higgs to be identified as author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  All rights reserved.

  The book is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copywrite law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  ‘In the Doodoo with Voodoo?’ is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead or undead, events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  I wish to take this brief opportunity to thank some of the people that allow these books to come into existence. First of all, and none too surprisingly I have to thank my wife for putting up with me disturbing her sleep as I roll out of bed all too early most mornings to start pounding the keyboard once again. I wish to also thank my two-year-old son for not drawing on my notes too often and for not accidentally pouring his milk into my laptop. There are others involved in this process because I cannot make the cover art by myself – I am just not artistic enough, so thank you to Jacqueline Sweet, but most especially I wish to thank all the slightly odd people that believe the paranormal world exists. Without you I would have no fuel for the stories I write.

  Other books by Steve Higgs

  Click the links to find the books in your local Amazon store.

  Paranormal Nonsense

  The Phantom of Barker Mill

  Zombie Granny – a Short Story

  The Klowns of Kent

  Dead Pirates of Cawsand

  Written with Gemma Higgs

  Can you Kick a Ghost in the Nuts? The Harper Files Case 1

  Coming soon

  The Witches of East Malling

  Want to keep up with Steve’s writing? Paranormal Nonsense: Blue Moon Investigations Book 1 is available for $0.99/£0.99 via Amazon and a free short story “Zombie Granny” involving Tempest and the gang is available to you if you choose to sign up to his free Newsletter where you will hear about forthcoming releases as well as events and giveaways.

  Here’s the link: http://eepurl.com/dnm8Dj

  Table of contents

  Last shift. Sunday, October 30th 1156hrs

  A New Case. Sunday, October 30th 1643hrs

  The Magdalene Estate. Sunday, October 30th 2052hrs

  Annoying Young Men. Sunday, October 30th 2157hrs

  Where Do We Work Now? Monday, October 31st 0640hrs

  Maidstone Police Station. Monday, October 31st 1006hrs

  The Home of a Voodoo Priest. Monday, October 31st 1051hrs

  Not What I Expected. Monday, October 31st 1223hrs

  Not the Best Day Ever. Monday, October 31st 1257hrs

  My House. Monday, October 31st 1312hrs

  Lily Hallett. Monday, October 31st 1404hrs

  How Hard can it be to Buy Condoms? Monday, October 31st 1547hrs

  Halloween. Monday, October 31st 1732hrs

  Who Sleeps Where? Monday, October 31st 1945hrs

  Snakes Alive! Tuesday, November 1st 0700hrs

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

  Burgers for Breakfast. Tuesday, November 1st 1112hrs

  Kimberly's House. Tuesday, November 1st 1257hrs

  Maidstone Police Station. Tuesday, November 1st 1412hrs

  Arresting Bartholomew. Monday, November 1st 1541hrs

  Administration. Tuesday, November 1st 1804hrs

  Sleeping with Friends. Wednesday, November 2nd 0722hrs

  Investigating a Ghost on a Ghost Tour. Wednesday, November 2nd 0934hrs

  Where is Patience? Wednesday, November 2nd 1116hrs

  Ghost Tours my Backside. Wednesday, November 2nd 1403hrs

  Interesting News. Wednesday, November 2nd 1803hrs

  Preparing for Jane’s Date. Wednesday, November 2nd 1920hrs

  Jane's Date. Wednesday, November 2nd 2000hrs

  After Jane's Date. Wednesday, November 2nd 2209hrs

  Surveillance. Thursday, November 3rd 0730hrs

  Terrance and Trevor. Thursday, November 3rd 1032hrs

  The House on the Green, Bearsted. Thursday, November 3rd 1121hrs

  Wonderful Diversity. Thursday, November 3rd (I Hope) No Idea What Time It Is.

  Press Conference. Friday, 4th November 0245hrs

  Sleep. Friday, November 4th 0315hrs

  Guys and Dolls. A Blue Moon Short Story

  Last shift. Sunday, October 30th 1156hrs

  I hated running. I was sure I shouldn’t have to run this much as a Police Officer. Surely when I shout for a criminal to stop running they should stop. This guy hadn’t read the rules though, so he was tearing down Week Street in Maidstone with no intention of slowing down.

  He was just a petty pickpocket, one of a gang that had been targeting Maidstone town centre recently, snatching purses and pilfering wallets. Or lifting people's shopping bags when they were not looking. There was always a crime being committed in Maidstone town centre, it was just that kind of town where people with money mixed with those that did not and certain elements tried to even the balance.

  I had been posted in plain clothes to observe and ultimately find the gang. Basically, I had been sent window shopping for the day with a side order of try to pay attention to what is going on around you. It was my very last shift with the Police. I had quit several weeks ago when I finally admitted to myself that my career was not going anywhere and after I met Tempest Michaels, a local self-employed paranormal investigator. I asked him for a job and he signed me up right then and there. Now I worked for him, but I still have a week of notice left with the Police, so I was kinda working two jobs simultaneously.

  I had been sipping a salted caramel hot chocolate and telling myself that ordering it skinny meant it was really low in calories when right in front of me the dopey looking kid with the spots and the dreadlocks had walked up to a pram, opened a lady's handbag and pulled out her purse. He even looked up at me as he slid it into the pocket of his dirty hoody and had the audacity to wink.

  I thought he was going to try me with a chat up line until I yanked out my Police ID and shouted for him to stop.

  He didn't of course. Which was how I came to now be chasing the ugly, skinny little turd down Week Street towards the river. He was faster than me, but he also had his jeans on hood style, so they were flapping around his backside and threatening to fall down and trip him the whole time. He probably thought they looked cool.

  I yelled into my microphone, a tiny handset hidden in my sleeve, that I was chasing a suspect and needed back up in position. There were three of us working undercover today in different parts of the town centre, but it was not so big that we could not easily coordinate between us. Uniformed Police were also never far away in Maidstone though and today two had been positioned at the top of Fremlin Walk where the confluence of roads created a hub of sorts.

  The youth had run by them almost before I could react, certainly before I could raise a warning to anyone, so my backup were essentially backing me up now by running along behind me.
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  Not much help.

  A cyclist came out of the cut through by Earl's pub, almost knocking the dick with the dreadlocks over. He leaped over his front wheel though as the cyclist saw him at the last moment and hit his brakes. This put the damned cyclist directly in my path and I ploughed right into him, the pair of us going down to slam into the ground. Me on top of him with his surprised face jammed between my boobs.

  The uniforms leaped over the mess of bike, cyclist and plain-clothes woman cop to continue the pursuit, but the pickpocket had gained valuable yards. The likelihood of him escaping though was slim. Maidstone is too open, there are no clever alleyways to duck down that would aid his evasion. His only hope would be to pick up a bike or get into a car.

  No sooner had the thought left my brain, than a brand-new white Mercedes C220i AMG flew out of the gap by the Hazlitt Theatre and threw the passenger's door open. The youth was going to make it. He had too great a lead to be caught now.

  Then Patience clotheslined him.

  I didn’t even see where she came from. I was just picking myself up and making sure my boobs were still in my top. One second he was home free, the next his body was spinning through the air while his head rotated about Patience’s right forearm.

  Score one for the girls!

  Patience was one of the other Officers placed in town to look for the pickpocket gang. We had been sent to different areas of the town to cover the most amount of territory, but she had been messaging me since we arrived to meet up and work together because she was bored and wanted to quiz me about my boyfriend Brett.

  I apologised to the poor cyclist and got moving again.

  Seeing his accomplice get taken down, the driver of the Mercedes hit the gas and belted down Week Street towards the A229 where he could filter into the moving Sunday traffic and escape. He was not having a good day though. Ahead of him, the lights changed, and an Argos truck swept out of Pudding Lane. With nowhere to go, I watched as the brake lights flashed on accompanied by the screeching of tyres before he slammed nose first into the side of the truck, ruining the beautiful new German car, which was probably stolen. Instantly there was a roadblock.

  Patience was stood over the youth I had been chasing. I was out of breath, but there seemed to no longer be much cause to hurry, so I ambled towards her at a fast walk. Downhill from me Duncan and Sylvester, the two chaps in uniform, caught up to the ailing car just as the driver was trying to get out. He was roughly grabbed, cuffed and forced into a sitting position by the car's rear wheel.

  ‘Hey, butt monkey!' Patience was making her arrest. The youth was laying on the floor groaning a little and slowly writhing around in pain. ‘Hey! I am arresting you for the crime of having a ridiculous haircut, shit clothes and for being a douchy little purse snatcher.’ Patience didn’t worry too much about doing her job properly so long as she enjoyed herself.

  I arrived at her position where a small crowd was beginning to gather. Human nature dictating shoppers or passers by were always ready for a little street theatre.

  ‘Hey, girl.' she offered me a high five. ‘Did you see the sale on at House of Fraser? I nearly spent next month’s wages. They have too much fine clothing.’

  ‘We should get this one to the station.’ I said.

  ‘The uniforms can pick him up in a minute. Patience needs some lunch.' She was staring at my chest. ‘You know your boobs are lopsided right?'

  I looked down. Dressing this morning for undercover work in town, it had not occurred to me to put on a sports bra. I had not figured on needing to chase anyone. I turned away from her to rearrange myself, then realised I had a three-hundred and sixty-degree crowd. My boobs were going to have to wait.

  A squad car was making its way past the wreckage at the bottom of the road, being waved on by Sylvester. A second car was behind it and behind that a third car which would probably contain Chief Inspector Quinn. The second car peeled off to stay with the crashed Mercedes, so I groaned internally as CI Quinn's car kept on coming up the road to where Patience and I were standing.

  Both cars ground to a halt right next to us, the crowd parting only when Patience yelled at them to do so.

  Three uniformed constables exited the cars, the driver of CI Quinn’s car opening the rear door to let him out. I thought he was pompous and pretentious and that expecting people to open doors for him was a perfect demonstration that I was right. CI Quinn was heading to the top though and acting as if he ought to be there already was working for him. He and I had an unsteady relationship which went back about six years to when he was my Sergeant and I spurned his advances.

  In a few days, it would no longer be of any concern. I did not hand my ID card back officially until November 8th, but due to overtime that I had recently put in, coupled with the holiday I had never got around to taking, I was finishing today. My uniform and all the paraphernalia that went with it was in the boot of my car ready to be handed back. I had hoped I could wrap the undercover thing up quickly enough to get back to the station and hand it all in, but alas it was already too late for that, so I would have to return tomorrow or the day after.

  ‘Woods, report.’ Instructed CI Quinn.

  ‘Got us a dick head with a head full of dreadlocks, Chief. Woman’s purse still in his possession. I think he looks like he might try to run again though. You want me to kick him in the bollocks?’

  ‘Woods, you know how I enjoy your reports. Can you please stick to facts and not embarrass yourself perpetually?' CI Quinn replied deadpan. He was not known for his sense of humour.

  ‘Was that a yes or a no on the bollocks?' she enquired, seeming genuinely unsure. ‘A no, then.' She decided, seeing his expression.

  I was getting peckish. I had managed one small swig of my hot chocolate before I had to abandon it to chase Mr dreadlocks, so now I was both hungry and thirsty and it was getting close to lunchtime.

  ‘Do you need anything further from us here, sir?' I asked CI Quinn directly. ‘Perhaps Patience and I should return to observing the crowd in case there are more of his gang operating here?'

  Ben Swanscombe was cuffing the youth and getting him to his feet.

  ‘She hit me.’ The boy protested. ‘She’s not allowed to hit me.’

  ‘I stopped you is what I did. You ran into me. I was stationary, and you were moving. You can't claim I hit you if I didn't move.' Patience was well used to defending her slightly violent streak.

  The youth continued to complain as he was led away and bundled into the back of the squad car.

  CI Quinn was already turning to leave. ‘I want you both back at the station. You have paperwork to fill out.’ He ducked into his car, either to ensure we could not reply or probably just so disinterested in anything we might have to say that he had already forgotten us.

  ‘Well, Patience is going for lunch, Chief Inspector. What do you think about that?' she said to the departing car. ‘Damn that white boy sure has a stick in his arse. What do you want for lunch, girl? Patience is buying?'

  ‘You’re buying? You win the lottery or something?’ I wasn’t saying that Patience was tight with her money, I just don’t remember her ever having any.

  ‘Girl, it’s your last day. Or at least it’s your last shift. Patience is going to buy you lunch.’ Patience was displaying one of her rare moments of seriousness. She was a good friend. I suspected I could rely on her if I ever needed to and we had already promised to stay in touch even though we would no longer be working together every week.

  ‘Lunch sounds good.’ I answered. It really did.

  ‘And a large glass of pinot.’ She added.

  ‘We are still on duty. We are not allowed to drink.’

  ‘Girl, it’s your last day. When are you ever going to break the rules if not now? What are they going to do to you if they catch you?’

  She had a point. ‘Okay, Patience. A glass of pinot.’

  ‘Large glass.’

  ‘Large glass.’ I conceded.

  ‘And shots.�
�

  A New Case. Sunday, October 30th 1643hrs

  Lunch with Patience had not been a good idea. It had seemed like one at the time, especially when the first half glass of cool, crisp, perfect white wine had wound its sensuous tendrils of relaxation into me and removed the stress I was feeling. After that took hold, I remember deciding that another glass was a great idea and my planned lunchtime skinny salad had been abandoned in favour of a pizza. Then a third glass had happened and the two of us had slunk back to the Station three hours later, armed with a quickly concocted lie about having seen some probable pickpockets and feeling the need to tail them.

  No one asked us where we had been though, as if they had not even noticed we were absent. I finished my paperwork, writing up a report about the event in town, the chase, and arrest, while next to me Patience worked her way through several doughnuts she had picked up on the way back to the station because all the wine had made her hungry.

  Whether I was stressed because it was my last day with a steady sensible job and the paycheck for it was about to run out, or if I was worried about my new career as a paranormal investigator, I had not been introspective enough to work out. When I talked to Patience about it, somewhere between glass two and glass three, she had said it was neither thing. In her opinion, I was getting stressed because I knew I was going to have to sleep with my perfect boyfriend soon and now I was worried that she had it right.

  I had met Brett Barker about a day after I took the job at the Blue Moon Investigation Agency. He was a prime suspect in the murder of his grandfather, not least because he had inherited the Barker Steel Mill in Dartford and a sizeable fortune upon the man’s death. Tempest Michaels, that’s the owner of the Blue Moon business and my boss, thought Brett was guilty, and all the evidence suggested he was. I had arrested him, as I was still a serving Police Officer, but released him the next day when we determined he was innocent and he asked me on a date.

  That was two weeks ago, and we had been on several dates since. I am counting him as my boyfriend already, but we haven’t yet managed to get to the intimate part of our relationship. Honestly, I don’t know why we haven’t. There has not been a conversation where we have decided to take it slow. I am certain he is not gay, and we are both old enough to not be tiptoeing around, yet nothing beyond some passionate kissing has occurred thus far.