Whispers in the Rigging Read online

  ‘I will confess I have not the slightest notion what might be happening here. Whether the ghosts have even been seen by anyone or are just a daft, wild rumour. I do plan to find out though. I am offering my services free of charge. This will all be at my own expense. All I ask is that I am granted free passage to go where I may.'

  ‘I’m afraid I cannot allow that.’ He spun away from me to face the wall again, his fingers steepled in front of his face and his lips pressed to them. ‘The head of security would never allow it, quite rightly I am sure, but more importantly, I don’t want you to catch the ghosts. They are a massive tourist attraction and we don’t even need to do anything.’

  I cocked my head slightly and waited for him to continue. ‘Attendance is up twenty-four percent since rumours of ghosts here started. It has only been a few weeks and we are suffering slightly because almost half the night shift cleaning staff and many of the security detail have quit in fright, but the entrance fee has never generated more revenue.' He spun back to face me again. ‘No, I'm afraid the investigation will have to be left to the police, Mr. Michaels. I have no doubt you mean well, you may even be a capable detective, but I cannot have an amateur running about the Dockyard, going where he pleases and interrupting our business.'

  I fixed him with a serious look. ‘Mr. Jordan, the police will perform a cursory investigation but will be distracted by bigger crimes. The likelihood of my father's attacker being identified is slim unless you have a person dedicated to discovering the truth. Don't you want to know what motivated the attack?'

  ‘Perhaps it was random.’ He replied.

  I cocked my head. ‘My father was found in a bin.’

  ‘Maybe the attacker panicked. Maybe he wasn't attacked at all and it was an accident. The point, Mr. Michaels, is that I cannot permit you to poke around while you try to uncover what you deem to be the truth.'

  I nodded. Regretfully, I had to acknowledge that I had been expecting his response. My ideal scenario was for the Dockyard to hire me to investigate their ghosts, for in so doing I would uncover what had happened to my father. It was not to be though, and I believed any further argument to be futile.

  I stood up and gathered my bag. ‘Mr. Jordan, thank you for your time.'

  We shook hands once more, he bid me a good day and wished my father a speedy recovery. Then, as if by magic, Andriy opened the door behind me to let me out. I had to wonder if he listened at the door. As I left the room, I saw a clock on the wall opposite Alex’s desk. It had been behind me the whole time, placed as it was so that Alex need only look up from his desk to see the time. It stood out in the office because in striking contrast to every other item in the room, it was modern. A glass and chrome thing. Then I was out of the door and going through Andriy’s outer office.

  Walking back down the long corridor that would get me out of the building and out of the Dockyard, I was forming a plan in my head. My first shot had not achieved the result I wanted, but my course was not to be swayed.

  I had a case to solve and Mr. Jordan was going to know nothing about my actions until I presented him with the solution.

  Big Ben. Monday, November 21st 1115hrs

  I knocked on Big Ben’s door. He lives in a penthouse suite in a private gated complex that borders the river Medway as it runs through the centre of Maidstone. His place looks out over the river itself, but the view wasn’t anything to get excited about. On the other side of the river was more apartments and beyond that yet more apartments. It passed as high-end for Maidstone though.

  The security guy managing traffic in and out of the complex knew me well enough to wave me through, plus my bright red Porsche was easy to spot and remember.

  There was noise inside, voices that were clearly not Big Ben's and I wondered what kind of debauched orgy might be going on behind the closed door. Wondering was all I did. I certainly didn't want to find out. I had already rung the bell though and could hear someone approaching from the other side of the door.

  I heard the lock slide back moments before Big Ben’s big beaming head appeared around the door.

  ‘Hey, buddy.’ He said as he opened the door. ‘Was I supposed to be expecting you?’

  I followed him in and closed the door behind me. ‘Not at all. This is an unplanned visit. I need your help, mate.’ Big Ben was naked from the waist up and wore a pair of loose-fitting track pants on his legs with no socks or shoes. He had underfloor heating though and the apartment was warm.

  He led me through from the lobby to the main living area where there were four scantily-clad but still technically clothed ladies watching daytime TV.

  One of them turned to see who it was and smiled. I said, ‘Good morning.’ But her response was to turn back to watching whatever mundane program they were engrossed in.

  Big Ben picked up a mug of coffee as he folded himself into one of his sumptuous white leather chairs. ‘Coffee?’ He asked.

  ‘Sure.’

  He turned his head slightly to one side to call across the room. ‘Brunilda. Be a love and make some coffee.’

  ‘Ja, sweetie.' A brunette with long flowing locks and nothing on but sports underwear from Pink said as she stood up. ‘Darf Ich fur sie etwas anderes tun?' She asked as she went by. My knowledge of German was sufficient to know that all she had asked was if she could do anything else for him, but the voice she used to ask it would have given an erection to a corpse.

  ‘Nein, danke.' He replied and kissed her arm where she had draped it around him. She skipped off into the kitchen to make me a beverage.

  ‘What’s it like being Hugh Hefner’s better-looking prodigy?’ I asked enviously.

  He grinned at me and stretched in place. ‘Friggin' brilliant.'

  Stupid question really.

  ‘So, what do you need me for? Are we storming a castle?’

  I considered the question; he wasn’t far off the mark. ‘We need to infiltrate a military base posing as staff and perform a clandestine operation under the noses of the criminal gang that operate there to expose the truth and save a princess.’

  Not used to me exaggerating ever, he took a second to realise that I had been. He blew out his breath as he laughed. ‘You had me for a moment there. What are we actually doing?’

  ‘All of it except for the princess bit.’ He stared at me, wanting more information than I had given him. ‘My father got attacked yesterday at the Royal Historic Dockyard where he works sometimes. He spoke to me last week about strange events, but I didn’t react and now he is in a coma. They whacked him on the head and dumped him in a wheelie bin.’

  Big Ben’s eyes flared. ‘So, we are off to find out who did it and teach them some manners?’ Big Ben was good at teaching people manners.

  Brunilda reappeared with my coffee. It was strong and dark and unctuous, just the way I like it. She winked at me as she leaned in to hand it over, an act that sent a zip of electricity straight to my groin.

  I was already starting to get hot in my clothes as Big Ben's heating was set to a temperature designed to sustain girls in their underwear. I peeled off a layer, paused and peeled off another which left me in just a shirt and jeans.

  I answered Big Ben's question. ‘Basically, yes. I just visited the chap that runs the place, but he was disinclined to give me free rein to investigate. They have rumours of ghosts spotted by the night cleaning crew and security guards. That is where I plan to start.'

  ‘You know I am in, man. Whatever you need.’ Big Ben had a serious expression for once. We didn’t need to exchange words, we had been through enough together to be confident each of us would be there to support the other when the occasion called for it. This was such an occasion.

  I nodded. Nothing further needed to be said. ‘I want to infiltrate the night crew. Ideally, we would join the security detail, but I already know the cleaning crew is short staffed. They lost numbers when the ghost rumour took hold. Are you up for that?’

  ‘Join the cleaning crew? Doesn’t sound too taxing
. I guess we do a bit then sneak off to explore, right?'

  ‘Pretty much.’

  ‘Any idea what is going on there?’ He asked.

  ‘Not yet. But I’m going to find out. When I leave here, I am going to the office to have Jane manufacture some fake CVs for us. I will call the lady that runs the facilities management side of the operation as the manager of a bogus outsourcing cleaning firm and offer the two of us as cheap labour. I’ll let you know how it goes but I expect to start there tonight. Can you make that work?’

  He held up his index finger, imploring me to give him a moment. ‘Girls! Playtime is over. Time to go. Big Ben needs his space.'

  From the sofa, a chorus of disapproving sighs and complaints came in response, but they collected their things and left, still in their underwear for the most part.

  When they were gone, he asked, ‘How is your dad? Better yet, how’s your Mum?’

  ‘Dad’s still unconscious. The doctors have said he is fine and will come around in time. Mum seems to be holding up well enough. I’ll be taking her to the hospital to see him later rather than letting her take herself.’

  He nodded. ‘Since we are probably going to be there tonight, I’m going to need some sleep. I didn’t get much last night.’ He didn’t elaborate.

  ‘I’ll send you a message later, once I have arranged something.’

  As I went to the door, he called after me, ‘Tempest.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘We’ll get them.’ I nodded grimly. It was very much my intention to get them. You don’t get to mess with my dad and laugh about it afterward. Not for long anyway.

  The Office. Monday, November 21st 1157hrs

  My belly was starting to grumble as I parked my car behind the office. I would find Jane inside, working away at something for Amanda most likely. I hadn’t given her anything to do recently as my cases had been too simple to require much research.

  I had tasks for her now though and it all needed to be done quickly. Not because I was hungry and needed to get home to feed myself and walk the dogs, but because I had to infiltrate the Dockyard and I could feel the clock ticking inside my head.

  ‘Hi, Jane.’ I called as I pushed the door open. The smell of coffee hit me instantly.

  ‘Hi, boss.’ She called back in her normal deep voice. To compliment her female persona, she had been practising speaking with a voice that sounded less manly. She could hide the adam’s apple with a scarf but losing the baritone was a tougher challenge. Today, she wasn’t trying.

  I went straight to the coffee machine. Earlier I had left the office jittery from all the caffeine, but it was long gone from my system now and I wanted a fresh shot.

  ‘Want some?’ I held a cup up to show Jane. She lifted a cup from her desk to show she had just made one for herself. ‘Are you able to switch tasks?’ I asked as I busied myself filling the machine.

  ‘Sure. I’m looking into 17th century French demons for Amanda but I think it can wait.’ It was something to note that her research topic, which sound ridiculous anywhere else, was just par for the course in our office.

  Coffee in hand, I went to her desk and outlined the task I needed her to perform. It involved creating a website, falsifying a staff list, creating CVs and then emailing Julia Jones with a speculative email offering her contract cleaners at a reduced rate. Alex Jordan had admitted they needed them. I was going to present a solution.

  To be fair, it was quite a list of things to achieve in a short space of time. Jane acknowledged the challenge presented, cleared her desktop and got started.

  I went to my office to craft the email we would send to Julia Jones. It was all a complete blag and would come apart fast if she looked for the fake firm on Companies House because we didn’t exist and there was no way to create and register a firm that quickly. After twenty minutes of drafts I was happy with the letter and the official-looking letterhead I had created. It was convincing enough so I forwarded it to Jane.

  ‘Don’t forget to take a lunch break.’ I called as I got up to take my own.

  ‘No time if you want this done.’ She called back. ‘Bring me a sandwich. I’ll take the hours later.’ She probably wouldn’t, she seemed to love her work enough to be in early and stay late every day. I took her on for part-time hours originally but shifted her to full time because she kept working the hours anyway. She was invaluable. Having that thought, I made a mental note to ensure her value was reflected in her Christmas bonus.

  I reminded Jane that I was taking my mother to the hospital after lunch, but I went to the sandwich shop a couple of doors along from the office and paid them to make and deliver lunch to her. With that done, I slid into my sleek, red Porsche and gunned it for home.

  Lunch. Monday, November 21st 1237hrs

  My house sits in the corner of a street at the north end of a small village called Finchampstead which in turn is located on a hill overlooking the much larger town of Maidstone in the South East corner of England. The village was a pretty little place surrounded by vineyards and orchards and countryside with one road in and one road out. My four-bedroom detached house was larger than I needed but I liked having the space and had bought it at a time when the housing market was depressed following a global mortgage scandal.

  I pulled onto my driveway at 1237hrs according to the clock on my dashboard. I was hungry now, already fighting the voices that wanted a dirty, fat sandwich with the sensible part of me which knew I had just lost nine pounds through hard effort and monitored eating and really didn’t want to put it back on.

  As I opened my front door, the two furry beasts inside tumbled out to greet me. I live with two Dachshunds, both black and tan with short hair, and brothers even though they were not litter mates. Bull and Dozer were excellent companions, but they could be relied upon to be deliberately problematic if I made them go too many days without something tasty from the treat cupboard.

  Once I had ruffled their fur and petted them, they ran to the backdoor. This was usual routine: I came home, they greeted me, they went out and barked at wood pigeons on the lawn.

  Through my kitchen window, I watched them tear across the lawn after a blackbird that had dared to touch down on the grass. They barked the whole way, stealth not a tactic they had ever learned. I filled the kettle and flicked it on. As it began to get agitated, I pulled prawns from the freezer and couscous from the cupboard. The hot water went on the couscous, the prawns into my wok along with cashew nuts, scallions, peppers and spinach leaves.

  Five minutes later the dogs were in the living room crunching on cold pieces of carrot I kept in the fridge for them and I was tucking into my lunch. I had added some hot sauce for flavour and served it with cold milk to drink.

  After lunch, with dogs clipped to leads, I set off for a stroll around the village. They probably didn’t need it, it was hard to gauge what they did need, but prudence dictated I give them exercise when I could, plus it was dry today and despite the cool air, it was nice out.

  Mrs Comerforth, my next-door neighbour was just coming through her garden gate as I went out of mine.

  ‘Hello, Margaret. Been shopping?’ I asked rhetorically as I observed her bags.

  ‘Yes, dear. Just stocking up on provisions.’ Her provisions appeared to be gin and some chocolate biscuits. I was a little envious. ‘Will you be needing me to have your doggies any time soon? I do like their company.’

  Mrs Comerforth and I had an almost symbiotic relationship. We both had what the other one needed in that I had dogs and she felt she was too old to have one of her own and I had to go on stakeouts or night time investigations or sometimes (gasp!) a date. The latter was the least common, but whatever the occasion, if I was going to be out for any length of time, I could rely on my neighbour to keep the dogs safe and warm and with company at her house. Better yet, if I was going to get home late, she would put them back in my house before she went to bed.

  ‘Actually, Margaret, I will be out tonight.’ I gave her a basic r
un down on my planned nocturnal activities without explaining the boring detail about my father. She was excited to have them for company and would pick them up herself if I didn’t drop them off. I wasn’t sure what time a shift at the dockyard might start, since I hadn’t even applied for the job there yet, so I could offer no advice on what time I might go out or be back.

  It didn’t matter to her. The dogs were pulling at their leads to get going. She saw them and said I should get going. It was too cool for her to stay out anyway.

  She was right about the temperature, but it was concern for my little dogs rather than my own needs that curtailed our walk. Ten minutes after setting off, we returned home, the two dogs pulling excitedly to get in the house and the warm.

  I settled them back on the sofa with a blanket, gave them a pat and left them behind again as I set off to fetch my mother.

  Medway Hospital. Monday, November 21st 1401hrs

  ‘Hello, Mother.’ I took her hand as she stepped out of her house and down to the street.

  ‘Hello, Tempest.’ She was dressed nicely, as one might for church, because she felt there was a need to look respectable when speaking to doctors. I opened the passenger door of my car for her to get in then closed it gently behind her. ‘Goodness, Tempest. Why can’t you get a sensible car?’ She asked as she made a big show of getting down to the seat.