Night Work: Blue Moon Investigations Book 12 Read online

  Despite all that, I had a smile on my face and felt like I had purpose. It had been my intention to head for home but I had other plans now, one of which was to check out the lake for myself. The casefile had maps in it. The spots the first two bodies were found were marked, and further marks suggested where they might have entered the water.

  It would be dark soon, but I wasn’t going to let that put me off.

  Biddenden Lake. Sunday, December 4th 1648hrs

  It was just about full dark when I stopped in the car park next to a pay meter. Tempest’s Porsche wasn’t the only car in the car park, there were quite a few to my surprise, but perhaps it was more popular with anglers and such than Frank claimed.

  The parking meter was busted, so with no way to pay, I set off with my phone in hand. I really wasn’t sure what I might find here; damp grass and overgrown shrubs most likely, but maybe I would get a feel for the place also.

  The police report on the original drowning ended with a verdict of accidental death because they refused to accept a swamp monster or anything else had taken Ian Dexter and drowned him and they couldn’t prove Jennifer had done it either. The single set of footprints was a big part of that, and the forensic analysis had clever tests to determine that the shoes size and weight of the person wearing them were the same in every instance. So Jennifer hadn’t killed him and no one else had either but no one believe the accidental drowning thing because his body was so brutally attacked.

  A worrying thought surfaced; what if there was a beastie living here that had attacked Ian Dexter? I used to believe in all of this stuff. The whole mythical world was one I could get excited about. Growing up I had been such an ordinary kid and fantasised about being turned into a vampire or a werewolf because it would make me cool and interesting. Over time, Tempest convinced me that none of it was real at all and went on to prove it almost every day. Frank, on the other hand, was waiting for Tempest to be wrong.

  A duck quacked loudly near my foot as I almost trod on it. It made me jump and catch my breath. ‘What are you doing out here, Jane?’ I asked aloud. Cold, spooky lakes were not the place to hang out if you have ever watched a horror film. Thinking that maybe I should just go, especially since I couldn’t see anything in the dark despite the light on my phone, I turned around again.

  Then I saw it. A flash of light near the water’s edge. It came from a point maybe three or four-hundred yards away but as I squinted, it happened again. Unable to resist, I moved toward it.

  I got within one-hundred yards and could begin to make out the sound of voices drifting over the still water. Another duck quacked but I ignored it as I pressed on.

  Fifty yards and the silhouetted shapes of people were discernable whenever the light flared. I worried about getting too much closer, but I needed to find out what was going on. Who would be out here doing weird stuff in the dark unless they were up to no good? Could I call Jan for backup? Did I need to know more or would finding out more only reveal that I was in the company of killers and then get murdered myself?

  I looked down at my phone and then felt my dread rising as I saw my mistake: I had the light on. It was shining for all to see and they must have spotted me coming from halfway around the lake.

  Too late. A gruff voice came from behind me. ‘Now what’s a young lady like you doing out here by yourself?’

  I spun around to see who was there and shone my light up to blind them, it was knocked from my hand by another unseen person and vanished in the long grass. Now blind myself since I had not developed any night vision, I stood my ground though my knees were shaking.

  ‘What do you want?’ I asked, trying my best to keep the quiver from my voice.

  ‘I should ask you the same thing,’ said the man that had first spoken. ‘You were in Frank’s shop today. Did you follow me here?’ He stepped in closer to me, his face now visible in the moonlight. I recognized him as the man that Frank gave the box to: the man from the Kent League of Demonologists.

  ‘Yes,’ the man said, almost purring. ‘Yes, you are interested in the arcane arts, are you not?’ He turned his head to the side to speak with someone I couldn’t see in the dark. ‘Lionel, we have a new pledge.’

  ‘What, I, um, no,’ I stuttered.

  ‘Come witness our ritual, child. We shall summon this water demon and dispatch it.’

  ‘Hold on a moment,’ said a new voice that was probably Lionel, ‘She can’t be a new pledge, Jerome, she’s a girl. The league has been a bastion of male demonologists for centuries.’

  ‘They have a woman in Caithness. She was sworn in as a full member almost four years ago,’ argued Jerome.

  ‘Scotland? Who gives a stuff about what they get up to in Scotland?’ Lionel wasn’t letting this go.

  I tried to speak up. ‘I haven’t followed you from the shop. I’m not interested in joining your club.’

  Just as Lionel got into his face, Jerome said, ‘Men are talking, dear. We’ll get to you in a moment. If you want to join the league, you’ll have to know your place.’

  ‘She’s not joining,’ insisted Lionel. At that point I decided they were a couple of idiots, spotted my phone and left them to it.

  Another flash of light drew my attention to the lake once more. The rest of the league, for that is who I assumed they were, were gathered at the water’s edge. My phone was tucked away and the light turned off anyway as I neared them. I didn’t think they could see me coming but I was doing my best to move stealthily. A bush provided a handy place from which to watch.

  Near the water, half a dozen shadows were doing something complicated. Every few seconds a spark danced across the water and died. I still couldn’t see much but there was another bush a few yards closer to them. I scrambled to it, keeping low, then popped my head up again.

  Above me the clouds moved and moonlight poured through again, reflecting off the lake to show me the men. One was holding a large book. It was open and looked heavy and reminded me of a large bible, the ornate type you might find being used in a church for services. Another man was holding a crucifix and as I watched, I saw, to my horror, that two of them had swords.

  Then a hand grabbed my shoulder painfully. ‘Spying ain’t lady like, you know.’ It was Lionel, who must have bested Jerome because there was no sign of him.

  ‘Let go,’ I protested, flailing at his arm, but he held my coat in a vicelike grip and was far stronger than me.

  He dragged me into the open as he shouted to his colleagues, ‘Hey, gents. We have a spy. She followed that careless nitwit Jerome here from the shop in Rochester.’

  ‘Bring her forward,’ boomed a deep voice from the lake’s edge.

  I kicked out at Lionel, connecting with a knee and he stumbled. He didn’t go down though and quickly corrected himself before delivering a hard jab to my ribs. ‘If you won’t behave like a lady, I won’t feel any need to treat you like one,’ he snarled at me.

  The blow knocked the breath out of me and weakened my ability to fight him off. It was moot though because we were already at the lake’s edge and mere yards from the rest of the league.

  With a rough shove, Lionel let go of my coat finally but thrust me toward the center of the small group who had already fanned out.

  A spokesman, the one with the deep voice, addressed me. ‘Why do you spy on us, child?’

  I glanced about at the men. They were all facing me but more than half of them had their faces shrouded in darkness as they faced away from the moon. I couldn’t decide if they intended me any harm or not, but if Lionel was anything to go by, they might just give me a beating for the heck of it.

  ‘I was curious about what I was seeing. That’s all.’

  ‘So you’re here by accident are you?’ scoffed Lionel. ‘Pull the other one, love.’

  ‘Not by accident, no. I was hired by the police to assist their investigation into the recent drownings.’

  The man with the deep voice questioned that. ‘They hired you? Why? Who are you?’


  This was going to be tricky to answer depending on their opinion of Tempest. ‘I work at Blue Moon.’

  There was a moment of worrying quiet, then a raucous burst of laughter from deep voice. ‘Well, I’ll be blowed!’ he roared. The rest of the men joined in, all except Lionel, who, still standing a bit too close to me, merely harrumphed. ‘She’s one of the non-believers,’ deep voice cackled, still finding the revelation of my employment funny.

  A man to his left turned to deep voice to address him, ‘Grand Mage, what shall we do with her?’

  As the laughter died down, the Grand Mage wiped tears from his eyes. ‘We show her. That’s what we do. That fool Tempest Michaels and his daft investigation agency are overdue a surprise. So, let’s show this young lady the beast in the lake and see her deny its existence when it tries to bite her face off.’

  Before I could work out what he meant by that, I was grabbed on either side and wrestled toward the water. ‘You’ll make great bait, missy,’ laughed Lionel, his awful breath in my face as he manhandled me toward the edge of the lake.

  ‘Don’t worry, miss,’ the Grand Mage assured me in his deep voice, you’ll only be bait to lure it in. We won’t actually let it bite you.’

  Lionel leaned in close to whisper, ‘I might let it have a nibble though. Just to teach you a lesson.’

  With two men holding me in place, my feet were right at the edge of the water and struggling against them did nothing but expend more energy. Next to me, they were setting up their odd ritual again, the intermittent sparks dancing over the water while the man with the book began chanting.

  I figured this would go on for a while, but hoped they would get bored when nothing happened, release me and go home.

  A minute went by. Then two. Then something disturbed the surface of the water twenty yards off the shore. It was directly in front of me and my pulse beat a staccato rhythm as I decided not only was it not a fish, it was coming in a straight line, directly for me.

  Then I saw another movement to the left of the first and started to panic, wriggling against the strong hands holding me.

  ‘Be ready,’ hissed the Grand Mage prompting the sound of swords being drawn from scabbards.

  Then, from the water, in an explosion of weed and muck and spray, a man in scuba gear emerged, and right next to him, another one. They both held powerful looking crossbows, the black frames gleaming in the moonlight like obsidian.

  ‘What the devil?’ asked the Grand Mage. His next question, if he had one, was cut off by a whistle blast and the grip on my arms loosened as Lionel and whoever else was holding began looking about to see what was going on.

  Banshee cries filled the night as figures emerged from the blackness, all kitted out in survivalist kit. Some looked to be wearing night vision goggles. It was enough to convince Lionel I was no longer a priority and I yanked my arms free as the two men turned their attention to the new threat.

  I had no idea what was going on and no particular interest in finding out. I was going home. Stuff the rest of them. Taking a meaningful step forward, I slipped on a rock, tried to correct myself, over corrected, slipped again and landed on my arse in the water.

  I wasn’t in deep, but I had a wet bum and wet knickers and my boots were filling with water. A scant few yards ahead of me, the crazy Kent League of Demonologists were now surrounded by what looked like a special forces team, except they didn’t have guns because this is England.

  A standoff was taking place, and no one was saying anything. The Grand Mage had a haughty look and his arms crossed as if he was expecting an apology and explanation for the disturbance.

  The battle of silence ended when the leader of the special forces team pulled off his balaclava and spoke, ‘Stand down, men.’ As all around him the crossbows were lowered, and the swords, which had been raised in defensive poses, also began to droop, he sighed. ‘I really thought we had something this time.’

  ‘Who the devil are you, young man,’ demanded the Grand Mage sounding impatient and annoyed.

  The special forces leader stepped forward. ‘Lieutenant Colonel Antswith-George at your service, sir. I apologise for the surprise. My men are trained to battle the forces of hell. We are God’s ultimate fighting force.’

  ‘Well, you just ruined an ancient ritual that would have lured the beast in this lake to its demise at the hands of my men, a secret league of demonologists sworn to protect the realm of men against all evil.’

  The lieutenant colonel’s nose twitched. ‘It’s not a very secret league though, is it?’

  ‘How so?’ the Grand Mage snapped.

  ‘Well, you just told me and all my men about it for one. Hard to keep a secret when you announce it the moment you meet someone, wouldn’t you say.’

  The Grand Mage was working up to full bluster when I interrupted. ‘I heard about you today in Rochester High Street. It’s not a secret at all.’ I didn’t need to add my two-penneth but they deserved it. Plus, I was upset about my wet bum and wasn’t sure I would find anything in the car to put under it to protect Tempest’s seat.

  The Grand Mage was reaching apoplectic rage levels, no doubt his head turning red if one had sufficient light to see it by. ‘Well, I never.’

  If he had more to say, I didn’t hear it. Bored with the entire escapade, I was cold and wet and wanted to go to gran’s house now. I wasn’t sure if the special forces team would try to stop me but I announced loudly, ‘I’m not with them, I was just their bait,’ as I walked away and they let me pass through their midst without comment.

  I had to orientate myself to find my way back to the car park, which was further away than I thought, and I squelched in my sodden boots every step of the way. At the car, I rooted around to find something I could sit on so I wouldn’t ruin his beautiful suede seats. Settling on a collection of plastic bags, I got the engine on and the heaters working and pointed the nose toward home.

  Visiting the lake had not been a great idea.

  Late Night Research. Sunday, December 4th 2246hrs

  The thing about research is you never know what it is you are going to find. Tempest always makes a point of complimenting me on my ability to find information he would have thought unobtainable, or of piecing together sufficient information to provide the answer hidden among the mess. I had never really understood what he meant until I was doing it in a bid to answer my own questions.

  Gran had let me in but hadn’t helped to bring my belongings into the house. I hadn’t asked her to either. She was a tenacious old bird when she wanted to be, but at eighty-four she was not about to try out for the England Cricket Team. As I ferried items from the car, she relaxed in front of the television with a cup of tea. The England rugby team were beating five bells out of Scotland and she didn’t want to be disturbed until it was over. The trip back and forth to the car was more than one hundred yards each way because Aylesford was so old the one-way street was designed for horses and the space between did not allow for parked cars. It took a while to get it all in, but as promised, gran had a bed waiting for me. It was upstairs in her tiny cottage, but it was all mine, it was rent free and there was little danger I would get kicked out at any point.

  Leaving her to watch the rugby, I shoved clothes in the tiny wardrobe, hung them on the handles of the window and stuffed them anywhere I could find that wasn’t on the bed or the small table I intended to use as a computer desk. It was a bit cramped but half an hour after getting it all in, my screens sprang into life and I was in business. Okay, two of the screens were balanced on books stacked up to the right height, and my mouse barely had room to move, but it was working.

  I cracked my knuckles in preparedness to start, then changed my mind and went downstairs to check on gran and get a cup of tea. Halftime had just finished so she was back in her armchair, which she appeared to have bought in the fifties, and had a ready meal dinner on a plate with what looked suspiciously like a gin and tonic next to it.

  I eyed the ready meal. Gran tho
ught cooking for one was too much hassle so she rarely bothered. I would be dusting off my meagre culinary skills though to do my best at keeping her well-fed. I could provide the groceries too since she insisted I would pay no rent.

  I had intended to ask if she wanted a cup of tea but I thought her answer obvious so just made one for myself and went back upstairs.

  When gran called out to say she was going to the pub to see Mavis, I looked at the clock to see more than an hour had slipped by. The pub was next door but one, so gran only had about twelve yards to wobble each way. I offered to escort her nevertheless, but she scoffed at the notion, saying she had been making her own way there since she moved in sixty-five years ago.

  My cup of tea sat cold and untouched, my focus too absorbed by what I was doing. By the time gran returned at nine o’clock I had access to Meet Market. Finding and accessing their details had been tougher than I thought, the Meet Market firewall requiring patience and tenacity to get through undetected.

  Once in, my hope soared as I dared to believe I might instantly find a single woman who had contacted all three, arranged dates with all three and who would be the instant prime suspect for their murders. It wasn’t to be though.

  Gran interrupted me just before nine-thirty when she said she was going to bed. I kissed her on the cheek and thanked her once more for putting a roof over my head. My concentration broken, I decided to change out of my clothes and into something more comfortable. I was tired and thirsty but I was also making headway so I wasn’t stopping.

  With my tea refreshed and pyjamas on, I settled in front of the screens once more. Each of the men had been in contact with several women, playing the odds perhaps but a lot of the conversations between each man and several different women all overlapped making it very difficult to work out who they might have met with on their fateful nights.

  Getting frustrated by it, I pushed the open tabs to one side and started a new search. I needed to track down Karen Gilbert and thankfully that task proved far easier. Using her social media profile I was able to find her sister and several friends, clone the account of one woman that appeared as a friend on everyone else’s profile and then send messages from within the system that would look like it was coming from someone in the group. The only way I could get caught out was if the friend whose account I had cloned was actually with people when I sent a fake message from her.