Chapter 5

  I woke up and I was lying in my bed. A note next to me said: You passed out, so I helped you up.

  It was written on the back of a Chinese takeaway menu card, so I knew it must have been my neighbour. I owed him more and more, and that debt was becoming too much to pay. I don't know how I could ever thank him.

  I had helped him once escape some gangsters who had been hounding him for protection money, and he had been grateful to me ever since. But he had helped me so many times I felt embarrassed now. I was like a disabled child who needed constant attention, and I knew that it was getting too much even for a kind person like him.

  “Oh good, you are awake,” he said from the next room.

  “Danny, I am so sorry,” I started. “You keep helping me.”

  “Please, no apologise. I still owe you.”

  “You don’t. I owe you now. I helped you once, but you have helped me a dozen times.”

  “But I owe you my life, while you just owe me small favours.” He smiled at me. “I will make you tea, but just to warn you, there is a police detective waiting for you. Your secretary let him in.”

  “My what?”

  “Your secretary? She’s very, how to put it politely, very striking. I am wondering where you found her from.”

  “I am wondering the same thing,” I said.

  I didn't have a secretary. I could barely cover my own bills and was one pay check away from homelessness; twice in the last two months I had to ask a homeless charity for help in paying my rent. A secretary was the last thing I could afford or need.

  I quickly washed my face in the bathroom, tidied my clothes as best I could, combed my hair and made my way to my so-called office which was just the drawing room to the small flat I lived in.

  There, sitting in the corner, was my secretary. Danny was right. She was striking. A body like a supermodel, her hair permed so perfectly she looked like a 1950s actress. Her hair job cost more than I made in a month.

  And that simple white designer dress, body fitting but not sleazy, cost more than my annual income. She was the type of woman you expected to see at a fashion magazine or as a secretary to some old billionaire oligarch.

  And not at the offices of the worst detective in town.

  “Ah, Mr Raine. A detective is here to see you. I asked him to wait in your private office. I hope that's okay. He was very insistent, saying he wouldn't leave without seeing you. It took me all my skills not to arrest you or forcefully wake you up. I’m Evelynn, by the way, but you can call Eve.”

  “Thanks, Eve,” I said, with raised eyebrows.

  I would get her story later. For now, I needed to talk to the detective waiting for me in my private office, which was just a storeroom.

  I didn't have to wait long for him as he rushed out and punched me hard in the stomach.

  “You're under arrest, asshole,” he said. “I'm not sure for what, but I'm sure I'll figure out something.”

  What a great way to start the day. The detective was a tall man, built like a wrestler and as angry as one too.

  “I am pretty sure you have to know what you are going to arrest me for,” I said.

  “Oh yeah?” he said, coming forward to hit me again. “Are you a lawyer as well?”

  Before he could hit me, my “Secretary” stepped in.

  “No, but my father is a judge and I have many relatives who are top-level defence lawyers. I'm sure I could call one of them.”

  The detective turned to her. “And who the hell are you again?” he asked. “You don't look like any secretary. And why are you working for this loser?”

  While he was talking to my secretary, I had a look at the detective. He was not from around here. I knew all the local police force, and he certainly didn't look local. For one, he was well-built and looked like he went to the gym regularly. No beer belly or double chin here. There was something strange—some blood on his shirt. Just a bit. A shaving cut?

  “My career choices are my own between me and my boss. If you have a warrant, you can please show it or you can leave.”

  “Or else, what?”

  “Have you ever been beat down by a woman? I can give you a demo.”

  She wasn't bluffing. Her feet moved slightly back and her knees bent a little in a martial arts pose. She didn't take the stereotypical boxing pose, but I knew she could fight. How? It didn't make sense. Where did this supermodel whose father was a judge learn how to fight? I was awed by her. Few women would challenge a six foot well built man, a police officer no less, to a fight.

  The detective wasn't offended by her threat; at least he didn’t show it. Instead, he came up to me and offered me his hand in a peace offering. “Listen mate, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Let's start this again, okay?”

  As I got up, I said, “Okay.”

  “I just want you to tell me where my sister is. I'm not from around here, as you may have guessed, and I talked with the local police, and they say you're a weirdo who takes on weird cases. Listen, whatever you have, whatever your personal tastes are, I don't care - just tell me where my sister is, and I'll go.”

  I stared at him, “I have no idea where your sister is. How would I know? I thought you were here for the two dead bodies in that broken-down restaurant just outside of town.”

  He shrugged, “I have no idea about that. I'm not local, remember? I know there was a police investigation there, but I have no idea what they were doing.”

  “In that case, why the hell did you call me a murderer and punch me?”

  “Listen mate, I apologised and I'll apologise again. Listen, let me start again. My name is Detective Sargent Tobias, originally from here but working in London last ten years. My sister who lives just a mile from here, vanished three weeks ago. She was 27 years old and had broken contact with our family. The local police say that since she's an adult, she can break contact and leave whenever she wants. There is no proof of foul play, and so the police can do nothing. Yet I found something suspicious. She was last seen entering her room and locking the door. The next day she was gone. The door still locked from the inside. There are no windows or anything, so I don't know how she could have vanished. But she's vanished. I suspect she has been killed, and some hints led me here.”

  “What sort of hints?” I asked

  “Well,” he said, “For one, there was this strange, creepy mirror in her room. Her roommate said that ever since she got the mirror, she became a strange person. She would spend hours looking at her reflection in the mirror, and lately, she had started talking to the mirror. Yes, I know it sounds strange.”

  It didn’t. I often talked to my mirror, but then people avoided me.

  “My sister has had problems with drugs though she has been sober for at least five years. She blamed our parents' divorce for her drug addiction and then hence she had stopped talking to us. But I checked with friends, she had been clean and sober and acting normally until she got the mirror. She stopped talking to all her friends as well and blocked her boyfriend. She threatened to get a restraining order when he turned up one day to find out why she wasn't talking to him. She even stopped talking to her roommate.”

  “Her roommate says she would talk to the mirror until midnight, and sometimes even until early morning. The roommate has no idea what she said, all that she heard whispering. At first, the roomie thought it was she was talking on a phone to a new lover. That's why she didn't interfere. But once my sister forgot to lock the room, and the roomie saw her talking to the mirror. My sister ran and shut the door as she was hiding something guilty.”

  A girl spending hours talking to her mirror. That looked like my type of case. But I still needed more.

  “Still doesn't explain why you think there was anything suspicious. Also, why come to me?”

  “I am getting to that. The reason I feel it was suspicious is that all her clothes, her credit cards, even her phone and passport, are still in the room. If she ran away, she would have taken her money and her phone. If she left the country, she should have taken her passport or her driving licence.

  She didn't take anything, and finally, the mirror had a handwritten note on it. The note was written in blood, type A-, the same type my sister has. The message just said, 'Find Royce. He is the only one who can help me.”

  “I see. But Royce isn’t that rare a name. I'm sure even our small town has at least three. What did your sister do? Maybe Royce was a friend at work?”

  “He wasn't. She didn't know any Royce. There are another four Royces in the immediate neighbourhood, but none of them would be the type of people my sister would hang out with. Heck, even you aren't the type of person she would be friends with. Since I'm a detective in the London Police, I have no authority here, but I do have some friends. While they told me they officially cannot do anything, unofficially they made some investigations. They're fairly sure the blood that the message was written in is her own, and they looked into the mirror and found that in the last ten years, another seven girls have vanished after they bought a similar mirror. Although they are not sure if it was the exact same mirror as this one. And finally, when I mentioned the name Royce, they all started laughing. They immediately knew it was you, and so I came here.”

  “Still doesn’t explain why you hit me and called me a murderer?”

  “I'm sorry about that. I thought you had killed my sister. I was in the police station this morning, and there was some chatter going on about how you had been seen near a crime scene, and that you were wanted for murder. I immediately thought it was my sister you must have killed. But, the more I think of it, it cannot have been her. My friends at the police station asked me to leave very politely, but I am sure if my sister had been dead, they would've warned me. So it must have been some other murder you are involved with.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Listen, if you are involved in any crime, I don't care - just help me find my sister. You are a private detective, right? I can pay you! I am not rich. The salary of a detective in London Metropolitan Police isn't that great, but I can dip into my savings.”

  On the one hand, I felt bad taking money from someone just trying to find his missing sister.

  On the other hand, I did need the money. There was only so many pot noodles I could eat before my stomach went on a strike.

  “I am sure we can come to a reasonable agreement. My fees are not very high. I will need some favours though. Favours only a police officer can provide.”

  His face went dark, so I raised my hands to comfort him. “Relax, I don't want you to do anything illegal. The two murders I'm supposedly involved with - can you unofficially find out what's that all about?”

  “I suppose the question is: Are you involved with murders?” he asked, giving me a hard stare.

  “I am not. One of the dead bodies I found there had been dead for a few days. I want to know why the police didn't move her. That doesn't make sense. I know from previous experience a dead body is moved as soon as CSI is through with it, which should take hours not days. And yet the body was left there to rot. The second death was in self-defence. I can prove it.”

  I couldn't prove it but I would deal with that hill when I came to it.

  He was still suspicious, but he nodded. “Give me a few minutes, I'll make a few calls. I cannot promise anything. Like I said, I have zero authority here, and I have already called in too many favours far too many and I might be overstepping my welcome. “

  Saying so he walked out, giving me a chance to collapse on a nearby chair. Danny, who had been standing there quietly until now, smiled. “Great, we can now have tea.”

  I had forgotten all about him. “Thanks, Danny. I appreciate it.”

  My secretary stepped in. “Let me do it. It's my job after all.”

  “Stop,” I said. “First, I want to know who you are, and what the hell are you doing here?”

  I didn't want to have this discussion in front of Danny, but luckily for me, he got the message.

  “Okay, Mr. Royce, I will go now. Have to pick up the kids from school,” saying so he quietly vanished, and I turned to the woman.

  “Right Miss Evelynn or Eve or whatever your name is, what's your story? I don't remember hiring you. I don't think I could even afford you, not even for a day.”

  “Don't worry, Mr Raine. You don't have to pay me anything; I am doing this for the work experience. As to how I got here, I came here this morning looking for work. I always wanted to work in a private detective agency. Maybe even train as one. But the big agencies wouldn't take me. I have no experience, you see. I just have a degree from Oxford. In historical architecture.”

  “Oxford? The big university in the city called Oxford?”

  “The same. You are a small-time detective, so I was hoping you would give me a chance. When I came here, that detective was really angry and he was going to arrest you. I decided to step in and take control of the situation. I hope you don't mind.”

  She brought me a cup of tea. Milk with no sugar, just like I liked it. How did she know?

  “Let me get this right. You have a degree in historical architecture from Oxford - that big, famous university that we've all heard of. You want to work as a private detective, and you've been going around private detective agencies trying to find a job.”

  I rubbed my forehead and tried to give her a hard look, although I don't think I succeeded.

  “Now, tell me what's wrong with this picture? This town is tiny; if you want to run a private detective agency, you should try the big ones in London. This town is too small to have a private detective, hell, even the county is too small to support a private detective.

  I am not famous or known. I am not in any telephone directories. I don't advertise my services, and even most of my neighbours don't know who I am, and yet somehow you found out that I'm a private detective. You found out where I live, you found a way to my office, you know where I keep my milk and my tea, and you know exactly how I drink it. Tell me what's wrong with this picture?”

  I thought I had her but no. She just shrugged, not even slightly bothered by my interrogation.

  “I did start in London, and I visited more than 27 agencies. They all said no. I have friends in the area and I was visiting them. You claim that you are not famous, but enough people have heard about you. Like the detective said, the police certainly know about you, and most of your neighbours know who you are and where you live. They are the ones who told me where to find you. Your door was open, so I just walked in.

  As for tea and milk, that's quite simple. The milk was in the fridge, and the tea was in a box labelled “tea.” I might not be a famous private detective, but I do know how to make tea.”

  Saying so she smiled, and I couldn't tell if she was messing with me or trying to be genuinely helpful.

  “I can't pay you. Contrary to what you may have heard, most private detectives barely make a living. Even all the agencies in London usually get by on routine investigations for insurance companies. It's not like the TV shows where we investigate murders and crime. You should know that I have been homeless. As you may have noticed, it is also my home and my office.”

  “That's fine, my family is well off, I don't really need the money. As I said, my father is a judge, my brother runs a hedge fund. We are quite well off.”

  It all sounded too suspicious, too smooth, too well-rehearsed. But I didn't have time to ask her any more questions, as just then Detective Tobias walked in.

  “Okay, Royce, I got some answers for you, but you're not gonna like it.”

  “I know I won't, but I have to hear it anyway. If I'm about to be arrested for murder, I want to be able to prepare my defence.”

  “Well, you're not about to be arrested for murder. The police know about the old woman, the homeless woman who was killed in that building. The reason they didn't move was because of Unit 7. Have you heard of them?”

  Shit. I had

  The official name was the Ministry of Extraordinary Defence, Unit 7. The unit had been a part of Scotland Yard for many years until they had been moved to their own division. There were a few other units, but Unit 7 was the only one that appeared in the newspapers.

  Well, they had appeared a few times before editors had been threatened and all mention of the unit was erased from all websites, which only made the conspiracy theories worse.

  They investigated strange and unnatural crimes - the sort of things I looked at. The unit had a penchant for using far too much violence, and people who got involved in them usually vanished. I did not want to vanish. I liked my rundown apartment/office and I liked eating pot noodles for lunch and dinner. My life was crap but I liked it as it was.

  “Can you tell me about them? Although I have worked in the Met Police for almost 10 years now, with the last 4 years being a detective, I know little to nothing about them. Every time I have gotten involved with them, I have been warned or threatened to not investigate. It seems they are the ones who scared the local police to not move the homeless woman. You were right about her. The police had finished the CSI investigation and were about to move her when the Unit 7 guys turned up and told her to leave the body. There was some argument and discussion, but they got a call from the Home Minister himself threatening to fire anyone who did not cooperate, so the police left the dead body there. Who the hell are these guys, and why do they have so much power?”

  “They are Unit 7 of the Ministry of Extraordinary Defence. The most secret of the secret agencies. They deal with threats so extreme that they could wipe out humanity. That's why they have extreme leeway. They can do whatever they want, and people who get involved with them usually vanish. A black bag over the head and bumped into a van. Never seen again. I don't want to vanish, but I cannot walk away from this case either. Do you know if the police had made any progress in the homeless woman's death?”

  “No, they hadn't. They had barely started investigating when these Unit 7 guys turned up and took over the investigation. The officer in charge was a bit angry about leaving a dead body just lying around, but he was ordered to do so. This morning, the police found the other body as well, which they suspect you killed. But again, the Unit 7 called them to back off. They even warned me to back off.”

  “Warned you how so?”

  He gave me his phone. “They called me just a minute ago, told me to give the phone to you when I got in.”

  As soon as I grabbed the phone, it started ringing. I brought it to my ears, “Hello?”

  “Drop the case, Royce. This doesn't concern you, and it's outside your league. Just let it go. We'll pay you, okay? Right? Just create a bill and leave it on your desk. You'll have the money within a week. But drop it.”

  “No.” I said forcefully, but the call had already finished.

  The other two were looking at me.

  “They want me to drop the case and said they will pay me just to back off.

  Detective Tobias took his phone back and asked, “Will you?” he said. “Drop the case?”

  “No, never. Once I take a case, I'll never let it go.”

  “But who is your client?” asked the detective. “Surely, as a homeless woman, she had no family. Right? So who's paying you or who asked you to investigate?”

  I couldn't tell him. I had a reputation as a weirdo, but if I started telling people that I took cases from dead people, I knew I would be locked up or treated with even more contempt than I was.

  “Sorry, that's confidential. I cannot tell you, but I will take your sister's case. 2000 pounds a day plus reasonable expenses is as low as I can go. And I want to be paid for 5 days in advance. Is that reasonable for you?”

  He smiled. “Yeah, I can do that. I was expecting a lot more, but I guess this is a small town. How do you want to start?”

  “The reason I'm charging you less is because I want favours. No, don't look so worried again; it will be nothing illegal. I need to do some investigations here, but until then, I need you to go back to your sister's and get her phone for me if you can. I want to see her messages. Also, bring me that mirror I want to investigate it. Finally, I want you to try to find out where and how she got the mirror. The reason I'm asking you to do this is because her friends might be more eager to talk to you than me, and it will save me a lot of trouble and time if you can do that. It will make the investigation go faster and save you money in the long term”

  “Yeah, I can do that. I already know the pin to her phone. I've gone through messages and not found anything suspicious, but I can give you a try anyway. The mirror I already know where she got it from. Her roomie says it's from an antique shop at the end of the street where she lives, but that antique shop has been shut for 7 years. I don't know how she bought it. I suspect the shop might have opened for a few days but shut down again. Anyway, the shop is now closed, so we don't know who sold it to her. I have no idea who owns the shop.”

  A magical shop that opened for a day, sold one item, and then closed again. Strange.

  “That's okay, I can figure out about the shop. Tell me more about your sister. What did she do? What were her hobbies? You mentioned she had a boyfriend, so I'm guessing she was a normal 27-year-old planning to get married soon?”

  “She was planning on moving in with her boyfriend, my sister. She had a job…”

  “Stop! You keep saying my sister, does she have a name?”

  He looked shocked. “I don't know, it seems like I forgot her name, but how can that be?”

  “Relax, I can understand what's happening, but I cannot explain it to you. Anyway, tell me more about your sister. What was her job?”

  “Mel. That was her name, short for Melanie. I don't know what happened to me that I just forgot her name. Must be that I'm overworked or in too much stress.

  Anyway, she worked in a local advertising firm as a copywriter. She recently had a promotion and was now making more money than I was, which is why she and her boyfriend had decided to get a bigger house and move in together.

  Everything was going great when suddenly she just stopped talking to everyone. She didn't talk to our parents, but she did call me now and then. She stopped answering my calls, then the calls of her friends, and finally stopped talking to her boyfriend as well.

  I don't know what the hell happened to her. And then, she vanished.”

  “It's okay. I have suspicion of what might be happening, or what could have gone wrong, but I need the mirror. Can you bring it for me now?”

  “Sure, I can do that now. Give me five minutes. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Wait. Eve, go with him! Tobias, you bring the mirror back. Eve, you said you wanted to become a private detective? Well, here's your chance. Talk to the roomie; get anything out of her. I want to know everything about what happened in the last three or four days before she vanished; any small detail.”

  Eve smiled. “Do you really trust me? I have no experience as an investigator. I spent my whole life studying and getting good marks. Never was a people person.”

  “I’m sure you weren’t. But this is a small agency, we hit the floor running. You want to help me? Fine, prove it. Prove to me that you are worth hiring, that you are worth training. If you can figure out something new that Detective Tobias didn't pick up, it will really help me. I want Tobias back as soon as possible, but somebody will have to stay there and get the information from the roomie. As a non-threatening short woman, I am hoping you can do this job better than either of us. Think of it as an employment test!”

  She smiled. “Okay boss, thanks for giving me this chance. I am so grateful. I will not let you down.”

  I waited a few minutes to see if they had left, and then took a quick shower, changed my clothes, and ran down the street. To be honest, I doubted she could get anything new out of the roomie. I just wanted Eve out of the room. I didn't trust her and I didn't trust her motives for being there. I found it very suspicious that she had just turned up that morning.

  And I had my suspicions about the detective too though I would keep them to myself for now. He hadn’t looked happy when I had asked Eve to go with him.

  Something was wrong, something was strange. I don't know if these two cases were related. Most likely they weren't. But I had no way of knowing.

  I needed to do something, and I was going to do something very stupid - something so stupid that it would get me the stupidest person of the year award.

  But I had to do it.

  I would go back to the murder scene and I would look at the bodies again (if they hadn’t been moved) and I had to do it quickly before anyone found out I was gone.