The Dead Speak Ill Of The Living (The Dead Speak Paranormal Mysteries Book 1) (10 page)

  
“What? No, Tompkins is my cat. Was my cat. Is my cat.”

  
“Joe, stop smirking at the client. So your cat is, what, a millionaire and your
brother is getting away with murder?”

  
“Yes.”

  
“And you want us to prove this and take it to the police?”

  
“No,” and the digital voice did pick up on the sound of sighing, “I want you to
kill him. I want revenge.”

  
“I don’t think we can do…” Joe said, but the voice cut him off.

  
“I can reward you. He hasn’t got all my money.”

  
“We aren’t killers…” Joe went on.

  
“How much money?” Dee said.

  
“Enough to buy this house.”

  
“But there are four of us…”

  
“Enough to buy a quarter of this house.”

  
“I see…”

  
“We’re considering this?” Joe asked Dee.

  
“That’s exactly what we’re going to do, we’re going to call the group and
consider this.”

  
“Just don’t harm Tompkins,” said the voice, concerned about something living at
least.  

  
Pohl relaxed back into one of Dee’s armchairs, looked at the cup of tea in her
hand, and knew that the host wouldn’t mind her bringing her own china. Which
she’d done, which was how Dee had seen an eggcup for the first time in about
twenty five years. But Pohl hadn’t bought her own tea as Dee’s selection was
always good, and she took a little sip of the piping hot drink. She was thus a
little surprised by what was said next.

  
“How do we all feel about murder?”

  
The foursome were all sat round, all with drinks, which was why Nazir almost
choked on his. “What did you say Joe?”

  
“Murder, any, err, major objections?”

  
Nazir thought, for a second, that someone had discovered something they
shouldn’t, but Dee took over.

  
“We’ve been hired. If we want to be hired. But there’s a problem.”

  
“You found a ghost which wants us to kill someone?” Pohl deduced.

  
“That’s it, yep.”

  
“You best tell us the whole story.”

  
And Dee did, with Joe adding the odd point, Estate Agent, Ghost, Cat and all.
Finally there was silence. Then Nazir gone to grips with it. “Tompkins is a
stupid name for a cat.”

  
“I think the elephant here is asking us to kill someone, rather than changing
the cat’s name.”

  
Dee nodded at Pohl to agree, but Nazir said “a cat which could buy us all up. I
expect at least something fluffy.”

  
“What did you tell him?”

  
Dee replied to Pohl, “that we’d discuss it.”

  
“And we’re sure he was murdered?”

  
“No, we would have to establish that to our satisfaction, if not the laws’. I
just didn’t see any point in doing so until we’d had a chat.”

  
“I agreed with her,” Joe added.

  
“So I assume none of us have killed anyone,” Pohl said to lead things, and
there were murmurs of no. Nazir didn’t say anything, but no one noticed. “And I
assume no one is desperate to kill anyone?” Now all the other three said “no.”
“But could any of us kill to balance the natural order of things?”

  
“The what?” Joe thought the Professor would have been dead against the idea. As
it were.

  
“Well, the law doesn’t get everything right, and sometimes honour, or nature,
or the preservation of order and safety demands extreme action.”

  
“You got all that from classics didn’t you?”

  
Pohl smiled back at Dee. “Yes dear.”

  
“Everyone goes after revenge in all the movies?” Joe wondered out loud.

  
“That’s the modern version of what she said,” Dee replied.

  
“Right, look,” Nazir took over, “say you want to kill someone. Say you have
reasons, passionate reasons. Do you think you could live with it afterwards?
The questioning, the guilt?”

  
“Tell Tale Heart,” said Pohl.

  
“I’ll assume that’s agreeing with me,” Nazir winked.

  
“He’s got a point,” Dee conceded. “I’m not sure I want to find out.”

  
Nazir continued, “this ghost was very specific about killing the man. But why
not solve the mystery, take it to the police. We’ll be doing something good
even if we don’t get paid.”

  
“That’s not monetizing” Dee laughed.

  
“Neither are we mercenaries.”

  
“Okay, so say we solve this,” and Joe was thinking out loud. “We use it to
build on, help us get other mysteries that might pay.”

  
Dee looked over at Pohl. “What do you think?”

  
“On balance,” and Pohl looked at her young charges, or at least people she
considered so, “I think we pursue the legal route until we have no other
option.”

  
Everyone nodded along.

  
The next hour was taken up with chat from the group, dominated by Dee
describing all the houses they’d seen. The emphasis was on all the bad things,
from the house whose kitchen seemed to have been bombed in the war and never
rebuilt, to the one where a mouse at been sat in the middle of the floor
looking at them, making it absolutely clear who was in charge in there. Dee had
rejected both of those, but there were also the houses Dee had said no to
because the spectral tenants weren’t up to snuff.

  
“There was one woman who was crying, just crying all the time she spoke to us,”
Dee said. “That really killed the vibe of the whole place.”

  
“If there really are ghosts,” Pohl pondered, “does that mean there really are
‘vibes’?” She said it as if the term was dirty and needed careful handling.

  
“We don’t know,” Joe began to explain, “it’s an area where more research would
come in handy. Targeted research of course, knowing what we now know to be
true.”

  
“One day Joe you’ll be given one hell of a research grant.”

  
“Or laughed out of the room,” Dee helpfully added.

  
For the last ten minutes Nazir had been tapping away at his laptop, and now he
had something to say. “I’ve looked this chap up, Stuart Grell. Brother of
Nathan Grell, who died a few months ago.”

  
“Do tell…” and the other three leant forward.

  
“Nathan didn’t have much of a web presence until he was in the papers for
winning the lottery, when he told everyone the win would change him, but he
hoped not too much. I suspect he didn’t mean dying. Anyway, he was found dead
at his flat a few weeks later, having hung himself. He appears in the papers
again then, a tragedy of a man who couldn’t cope with the money. One paper
asked if the lottery should be banned.”

  
“Figures,” Dee sighed, thinking of her colleagues.

  
“Stuart Grell, on the other hand, has quite a web presence as he runs his own
business buying and repairing flats. You could do with his services Dee.”

  
“Can you repair my kitchen and kill my editor, I’ll, give him a call.”

   “But
here’s what’s really interesting to us. When Nathan died Tompkins inherited the
millions, the man’s last appearance in the papers. But Tompkins needed a carer,
a regent to spend the money. So, basically, Stuart is Tompkins’ Guardian and
decides how to spend all the cash.”

  
“So he did get the money!”

  
“Yes Joe, he really did.”

  
“Do you think we should tell Nathan that?”

  
Pohl replied to Joe this time. “Then he’ll most definitely want him killed.”

  
“Imagine oweing your new fortune to a cat,” and Dee didn’t sound pleased with
the idea.

  
“How hard can it be to give it the best food and making sure it’s pillow was
fluffy?” Nazir wasn’t a cat owner either.

  
“Lots of money left over for the guardian,” mused Pohl.

  
“If you don’t feel demeaned.”

  
Dee snorted and replied to Nazir “actually, I think I’ll be demeaned by a cat
for several million quid.”

  
“I think I could cope,” Joe revealed.

  
In a moment of government approved car sharing almost unheard of in the
country, Pohl and Nazir were sharing a vehicle, the former dropping the latter
off home as it was en route.

  
“Explain to me again how you’re allowed to drink?” Pohl asked as they waited at
a light.

  
“Because I’m the worst Muslim ever. But I figured that, after the whole liking
cock thing, I didn’t have much more to lose. So booze, tasty, tasty bacon and
no formal prayer.”

  
“And presumably going to a very bad place when you die.”

  
“It’ll be full of gay men, how bad can it be?”

  
He saw Pohl smirk and joined in. Then he went “oooooh.”

  
“What?”

  
“I’ve got an idea!”

  
“Are we listening to ideas after a night drinking?”

  
“I drank less than Dee.”

  
“That wouldn’t be hard.”

  
“Fair enough. But Stuart Grell lives near our route.”

  
“The rich cat man?”

  
“Yes.”

  
“And I suppose this idea involves us taking a look.”

  
“You got it.”

  
Pohl tapped her fingers on the wheel. She’d never gone to spy on a person
before. But why not start?

  
“Okay.”

  
It took a few minutes, but soon they turned into a road and started to drive
along.

  
“Take it slow enough so we can see, but not suspiciously slow.”

  
Pohl looked askance. “How fast is that supposed to be?”

  
“Err, what feels right. He’s in number twenty eight.”

  
They both peered to the left as they passed a well-appointed house with an
immaculate garden.

  
“He’s not moved yet,” Pohl observed, “I was expecting something larger given
his funds.”

  
“He stripped the handles off the old house, I expect he just sleeps on the
money. Okay, now let’s drive round this whole section.”

  
They looked round, until Nazir saw something that interested him. “Stop here,
we can go down that alley and see if it backs onto his house.”

  
Although the trees were leaning over and blocking the sky, the alley, in effect
a small footpath between two series of fence panels, was clear enough to walk
down, and soon they’d dispelled the odd feeling of not being able to see your
feet in the dark and arrived at a gate.

  
“I think this is the way into twenty eight’s back garden.”

  
Pohl looked at the gates they’d passed and did a quick calculation. “I agree.”
But as Nazir put a hand out, turned the gate’s handle and found it opened up,
Pohl added “wait a moment!”

  
“Come on, let’s have a look.”

  
“I told you ideas after drinking were bad!”

  
Nazir led the way across the lawn of an equally neat back garden, staying as
best he could to the shadows, and whispering “don’t fall in the pond.”

  
“I’m older than you, but I’m not blind.”

  
Soon he was crouching by a kitchen window. Pohl slipped in beside him, neither
having been detected as they’d slinked over. Both could hear voices coming from
the open window, and light from shining out from it. There was also a distinct
smell of curry, which made an association in Nazir’s mind and a wonder if a
kebab could be sourced on the way home. Attend to the matter in hand, he told
himself.

  
“How are you feeling this evening Tompkins, is the food to your taste?”

  
Pohl mouthed ‘he talks to the cat’, and both peered up as carefully as possible
to find a portly, middle aged man speaking to a ginger cat which would soon
match his girth.

  
“Fat moggy,” Nazir mouthed as they went back beneath the window.

  
“I’m going to be buying some salmon tomorrow, how does that take your fancy.
Yes? Yes, I knew you’d agree, and you’re absolutely right, I should get it
smoked too.” At this point Nazir was spinning his finger round by the side of
his head to imply that the man was crazy. “What’s that Tompkins? Ah, you’re
pleased with me, I knew you would be, I have served you exactly as you asked. I
have fed you, cleaned you, ensured your exercise, and I have never been less
than the servant you demanded when you asked me to kill my brother.”

  
Nazir put a head in his hand and Pohl’s eyes widened. ‘He thinks the fucking
cat ord…’ and Pohl nodded agreement.

  
“So what shall we do this evening Tompkins. Oh, you’d like to watch a movie? Of
course, and then you’d like to go outside and kill things? But of course you
can, who doesn’t want to do that?” And he laughed the laugh of the deluded.

  
Pohl tapped Nazir on the shoulder and gestured down the garden with her thumb.
He nodded and they sneaked off, until they were out to the alley.