Paranormal Investigations: No Situation Too Strange (11 page)

I left them to it.  I had to get out, I had to be safe.   I ran the length of the building, it was the longest corridor in Europe when built in 1850, and at the end I had to stop because there was no breath left in my body.  I leant over, hands on knees, as I tried to get some oxygen back into my body.

I wanted my mum or dad, someone.  Someone I could turn to for help and reassurance.  It was gutting to realise there was no one in my life that could fulfil that role.  All I had was… me.

My hand hesitated on the handle to the stair door.  Something was stopping me making my way out.  There was only one thing more powerful than fear - guilt.  I was leaving Mr X to her mercy - he may have never been conscious before when she... she had her way with him, but due to my actions he was now very much awake and just as scared of her as I was.  I could not just leave him to her, I had to help him.

I turned around with bravado I did not feel and began a very slow walk back to Mr X's apartment.  With every step I felt sick, but this was something I had to do.  I helped people, it wasn't in my nature to let people down when there was something I could do about it.  Damn my father, he was right - it was my duty.

Okay, presuming she was a ghost who could physically manifest and, going on what I had seen, that was my best guess, how did I... exorcise her?  The only people I could think of who did this kind of thing were priests, Bill Murray and Jensen Ackles.  Since I was not ordained into holy orders and was out of salt, I was more inclined to take the Bill Murray approach, only I didn't have one of his ghost buster back packs.  I thought hard.  I could improvise, it might not work, but I had nothing to lose by trying.  Except possibly my life and sanity.

I went to the cleaning cupboard and took out the vacuum cleaner.  There was a plug socket near Mr X's door and the cord looked long enough to reach into the bedroom.  I fired it up to test it, which also had the benefit of drowning out the terrifying cries coming from Mr X within the apartment.  I turned the machine off and readied myself.

Taking a deep breath, I put the key in the lock, turned and crossed the threshold.  I began the journey towards the bedroom. 

The first thing I did on entering the bedroom was to flick on the lights - there was no need for surprise now.  She knew I was coming.

Mr X was on the bed again, but awake and not in a state of sleepy excitement any longer which seemed to annoy her.  She was pressing her hands upon him which had the effect of making him cry out in pain.

I took another step forward but was pulled short by the tightening of the vacuum cleaners cord.  Dammit.

"Quit it bitch," I said, attachment in hand.

Slowly she turned to me.  I felt cold.

She toyed with him, lifting off her hand and then pressing it on to him again.  His moans were too much for me.

"I said, quit it bitch.  What - couldn't find any men in your time?  Got to get a shag by haunting a man in his sleep?  Man - that is desperate.  That is sad.  Shame he doesn't seem to be... up for it when conscious.  Not very flattering for you is it?  Got to get them when asleep have you Bertha?  No wonder Jane Eyre whooped your ass."

She left him and began to approach me.  She took her time; she knew by going slower the fear was building in me. 

I braced myself and let her get closer and closer to me.  I ignored every urge  that told me to get out of there.  A cold sweat covered my face.  I didn't even know if this crazy idea was going to work.

Just as she began to reach her hand out to my face I kicked the start up switch and the vacuum cleaner roared into life.

I pointed the long attachment at her.  Nothing happened other than she looked a little puzzled.  Then particles of grey smoke began to float towards the end of the attachment.  Her surprise then turned to horror as she began to be pulled in towards the attachment.  Then with a whoosh and a look of surprise she was gone, sucked into the vacuum cleaner in entirety.  It was done.

I looked a little surprised myself and put my eye to the end.  I couldn't see anything.

My goodness, it had worked.  I had just captured a ghost in a vacuum cleaner.

The warmth began to return to my body.

Mr X looked at me.  "Who are you?"

"Your guardian angel, now put some clothes on and I'll make you a cup of tea."

*

Mr X, whose name turned out to be Len Simmonds, had a fairly large and well stocked kitchen and a nice beech wood table by the window.  By the time he had put on a pair of pyjamas and a dressing gown I had made the tea and was sitting at the table.  I had set a large bowl of sugar beside the tea.

He sat down without a word and I pushed one of the mugs of tea towards him.

"I suggest you put in loads of sugar," I told him, "for the shock."

His hand was still trembling slightly as he put three teaspoons of sugar in his tea and stirred.  We drank in silence.

His kitchen window was almost as large as the wall space and looked over the thirty acres of parkland that Princess Park Manor was set in, although it was still too dark to see and appreciate them.

It was late.  Scrap that - it was early.  On the horizon the sun was just beginning its daily exercise and a tiny band of light was just appearing.  There were not many occasions in my life when I have been in a position to see the sun rise and despite the overwhelming exhaustion and the fact my feet were now reminding me they were bloody killing me it was a very beautiful and calming thing to witness.  It really felt like the dawning of something new.

The sun was gently lighting the park by the time Len was ready to talk.  He pushed back the now empty mug and looked at me.

"What
was
that?"

I shrugged, "I have to be honest with you - this is not my normal line of work."

"She was a... ghost, right?"

I nodded.

"Look," he rolled up his sleeves, "she caused me so much pain and yet there is not a mark left upon me.  How is that possible?"

"I'm sorry, but I really don't know how all this works.  I got lucky with the hoover.  It would help me if you could fill in any of the details."

He sat back in his chair with a sigh.  "All I know is since I moved here I've been knackered.  I sleep all night, but never feel rested.  I guess that makes sense if she was..."

He pressed his lips together.

I patted his hand.  "It wasn't your fault.  It would have happened to any man who moved here.  She must have been an inmate here, died here probably.  I guess she may have been here for her... sex addiction for want of a better word.  There is no way Victorian men would have understood a woman with a racing libido."

"No, I suppose not."

"Perhaps we should feel sorry for her then?"

He frowned.  "How did you get into my apartment anyway?"

I waved a cleaning cloth from my pocket at him.  "Housekeeping!"

"Thank you... what is your name?"

I hesitated.  "Yolanda, my name is Yolanda."

"Thank you Yolanda.  I'd like to say thank you."

Despite his shock he was prepared for this and pulled a chequebook and pen out of his pocket.  Did anyone write cheques these days?

"If anyone hears of this, especially my girlfriend, well... I'm worried what they would think.  My girlfriend would definitely not understand.  I'd like to pay you for, well for saving me from whatever that was.  As a cleaner you can't get paid much."

Nope, not as an investigator either.  How could I say no?  I had rent to pay.

“I’ll write my name in,” I said as his pen hovered over the first line.

The ink was barely dry as I whipped it out of his hand.  Doing ones duty had some payback after all.

"Just tell your girlfriend you were ill.  She'll understand, especially if you ask her to marry you."

"Do you think she'd accept?"

"Definitely."

Now he had bought my silence he wanted rid of me and I was happy to oblige.  I said goodbye to him and left.  I was not sure what to do with the vacuum cleaner so I thought I had better take it with me and pulled it behind me as walked out of the Manor.  I went to the security man at the main gate.

"Cleaner checking out."

He looked at me in my uniform and trailing the vacuum cleaner behind me.  He buzzed me through.  As the gate closed behind me I heard a voice.

"Yolanda!"

I turned.  It was the greasy haired cleaning guy, he had run after me and was now out of puff.

"Yolanda!  You're never gonna work in cleaning again!"

I shrugged and gave him the finger as the vacuum cleaner and I made our way off into the sun rise.

CHAPTER NINE

The Halloween Collective

I walked in the door and was greeted by the now familiar smells of Bob’s cooking.  My stomach rumbled. 

In the kitchen Bob was just plating up his latest concoction.  He smiled warily and held out a plate to me.  I was starving, so I took it and sat down on the sofa.  I ate it quickly and without much thought.  It was typical Bob fare, 'fusion' you might call it if you were being kind.  He had never really gotten a sense of what food went best at which time or what went together properly.  I think breakfast that day was jam with curried rice and hash browns.  With every mouthful Bob watched me in trepidation, awaiting approval, wringing his hands on a tea towel.

"Is it good?" he asked.

“Well I waas very, very hungry and it nicely filled a gap," I said honestly.

Bob seemed happy with that.  He was easily pleased.  He flung the tea towel over his shoulder and busied himself with more cooking - it looked like a cake mix from where I was.

After I had eaten it was time to sign off Miss X’s case.  It was just late enough to call Miss X without the danger of waking her. 

I plugged my mobile on to charge and dialled back the number she had called me on the previous night.

Her phone rang twice before she answered it.

"Hello!" she answered frantically, "Have you got news for me?"

"I do.  There's nothing to report.  He was ill, I spoke to one of the cleaning staff who said he kept to his bed with 'flu or something."

"No one was there?"

"Not a living creature.  Let him recover and I'm sure he'll make it up to you."

"You think?  Are you sure?"

"One hundred per cent.  This case is concluded.  Shall I invoice you the final amount?"

"Yes, yes do."

She hung up.  I didn't feel bad about charging her - I had fought a sex crazed ghost to save her boyfriend from succubus style sex.  That was worth something plus expenses.

I could probably have done with a shower, but instead I crawled straight into bed and wrapped up warm in my duvet. 

What a fucking day.

*

When I awoke later my face had crumpled sheet marks embedded into it.  I didn’t know what time it was, but I felt dirty and tired.  I plodded straight to the bathroom and climbed into the shower.  When I got out I noticed my bottles were arranged neatly on the shelf, labels forward, and I hadn’t done that.  When I went back into my bedroom I found that the short period I had been showering was long enough for my bed to be made and all the clothes I had left lying around to be put away in the wardrobe or in the laundry basket.

I dressed in comfort wear – tracksuit bottoms and a t shirt – and went through to the living room slash kitchen towel drying my hair.  I stopped short in the doorway.  The whole room had been cleaned and tidied.  Everything had been put away and the surfaces were spotless.  It even looked like the floor had been mopped and the carpet had finally made intimate acquaintance with a vacuum cleaner.

“What...” I began to say, Bob silenced me with a finger to his lips.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” he said loudly and in a rather stilted way, “Come with me to make a cup of tea.”

“Er, okay.”

We huddled together in the kitchen area, Bob filled the kettle and set it to boil noisily.

“You can’t notice them,” he said in a whisper, “Brownies are very shy and don’t like attention being drawn to them.”

“Aw Bob, you got me a Brownie to clean and tidy!”

He nodded.  “Her name is Nissa and she is very scared.  The last house she inhabited had a Doberman and she barely escaped with her life.  You won’t see her but she will keep the place clean and tidy and all you have to do is try not to notice her and leave a bowl of good milk out every evening.”

I surprised myself and Bob by giving him an enormous hug.  He didn’t know what to do and his eyes began to fill with tears.  I coughed and he continued with the tea making and I examined my nails.  Awkward moment over.

*

The next few days were an anticlimax to the action of what I came to know as
The Night of Len Simmonds' Succubus
.  There was no trace of mischief and even Trevor seemed to be getting bored although we kept him in mangoes just in case it was his presence that was affording us this peace.  It could have been that the fairies just did not know where to find us, although to be fair they could have just looked in the phone book or googled me.

At Paranormal Investigations the phones were silent and the only disturbance came from Rose munching on her biscuits.  Miss X paid her invoice and so for the first time in months the business was solvent again.  I paid some of my credit card off and bought Rose some
Duchy Originals
biscuits as a treat - although I did tell her not to get used to it.

All in all, life was settling into a fairly decent pattern, I didn't even mind sharing my living room slash kitchen with a man goat, as at least he was company and Nissa kept the place clean in return for her milk.  The only thing that seemed beyond hope was my love life.  Jez did try to call once.  I didn't answer.  He didn't leave a voicemail message.  That seemed to be that.

"I think I'm going to get a job," Bob said suddenly at breakfast on Halloween morning.

My eyebrows shot up to my forehead.

"I know I'm under your feet here," he went on, "I need to get on with my life and put all this nasty business behind me.  If I get a job I can find a place of my own."

The truth was, he wasn't really under my feet any more, I liked having him around and I had even got used to eating his food because it was easier than cooking myself and cheaper than calling for take-out.  I liked living with someone again, even if that someone was a close relation of a goat and smelled a bit like one.

"Oh," I said, "but what about the fairies?"

He shrugged.  "I think they might have forgotten me."

Having met Orla I very much doubted that.

"Okay," I said and fussed with my basil plant so he wouldn't be able to see the tears prickling at my eyes.  I was used to being alone, it would be okay.  I didn't need anyone.  "Well, in celebration of your decision to move on with your life let me sort dinner tonight, okay?"

Bob smiled the widest smile I had ever seen on his face.  "You would buy me dinner?"

"Sure, I'll order us pizza."

"Pizza," It was obviously a new word for him and he rolled it around on his tongue, "pizza, pizza, pizza.  I like the sound of that."

In all honesty we could have gone out to eat, it was the one night of the year when his horns and hooves would have passed for normal attire.  However, even if he thought the danger had passed I was still on my guard.  I really didn't like fairies.  Even the tooth fairy sounded like a Grade A bitch from what Bob had told me.  You don't want to know what happens if you
don't
leave your tooth out for her.

"Can we ask Trevor?" Bob asked hesitantly, "I think he would like to come and eat nice food with us.  It would be a kind thing to do."  Then he whispered, "I don't think he has many friends."

That wouldn't be a surprise.

I paused, "Only if he washes first.  And I get to choose what we watch on TV.   I'm not putting up with another night of Emmerdale."

It turned out that trolls had worse taste in daytime TV than an unemployed chav.  Mind you, an unemployed chav probably was on benefits and could afford to pay for Sky, I was limited to free view.

"I think I can persuade him those are agreeable points."

I smiled.  Dear goodness, I was looking forward to a night in front of the TV with a goat and a troll.  I really needed to start Internet dating again.

*

I ordered a huge selection of pizzas and sides on Len Simmonds' money which was still going strong.  It was nice to splurge for once.  Miss X had met me in Starbucks to pay her invoice - mainly, I think, so I could 'notice' the huge sparkling rock on her finger.  She looked like a different woman and paid me extra for utter secrecy as she couldn't have her new fiancé finding out she had suspected him of having an affair and had paid an investigator to spy on him.  I accepted the payment with good grace and assured her I would say nothing.  Bertha was still trapped in the vacuum cleaner which I had placed in my hall cupboard with 'do not use' taped across it.  I would figure out what to do with her another time.

Trevor announced his arrival by knocking at the door.  He didn't pong as much as usual and he had a black bow tie around his neck.  Very James Bond.  In his hand he had a bouquet of riverside grasses and reeds which he presented to me.  I knew his trick, he'd become addicted to Road Wars and wanted to encourage me to make that our viewing choice.  Some chance buddy.

"Thank you Trevor," I said politely as if he was any other guest, "please do come in."

"Huh!" he said with a laugh.  "Never invite anyone in lady," he said as he barged past me, "I could be anyone - I could be a vamp - you don't want one of those blood suckers getting entrance to your pad.  Could be fatal.  Those guys just don't know when to stop."

"Thank you Trevor," I said out loud when my inner thought was 'stupid troll', "however, since they don't exist I feel safe."

"Huh, you obviously never hung out down New Southgate on a Friday night then." He went into the living room slash kitchen, looking for the remote control which I had already hidden in my sock drawer.  He had yet to figure out that you could change the channels on the TV itself.  I tell you, the power struggles in this home were all over who controlled the TV remote.

The three of us sat in my now clean and spacious living room to await delivery of our pizza.  I had left the TV on BBC One, so we ended up watching Crime Watch.

"She's part demon," Trevor said nodding towards the ginger head of Anne Robinson.

"That doesn't surprise me."

The next item on Crime Watch regarded a theft, earlier in the month, from the British Museum.  The Ginger Demon announced police were now releasing CCTV footage in the hope that someone might be able to help trace the thief who had so far not been apprehended.

The picture was black and white and a little grainy which made me think the British Museum did not have such up to date security systems as the local off license which was at least in colour.  The time stamp showed it was evening, just before the museum closed.  A small figure was ringed to identify to the viewers at home this was the thief.  He walked up to a display, fiddled with the lock on the cabinet and removed a ring from within it.  He pocketed the ring and, with a quick glance around, made his way out of the room and out of camera shot.  That one glance had made his face visible to the camera.  It was grainy, but he was still vaguely recognisable.  The police officer on the TV said the
Vitam Mortem
ring had been stolen and it was of great historical, not financial, value.  The museum wanted its exhibit back.

I turned to Bob.  "Is there something you want to tell me?"

His face blushed.  "Is it a good likeness?"

"What the feck were you doing stealing from the British Museum?"

He shivered nervously, "They told me to."

"The fairies?"

He nodded.

"What do the fairies want with some old ring?"

"I don't know, but when I heard they meant to... do away with me I kept the ring and ran."

"You kept the ring!"

He nodded again.

"Bob, they want the ring!  Give it to them!"

"But it's my security."

"Some security!  Orla wants to kill you!  I wouldn’t put it past her to eat your herself!  Give them the ring and they might lift the threat on your life."

He shivered.  "I can't do that.  They are bad and I know they want it for bad things.  You can't trust fairies.  I don’t want bad things to happen."

"Where's the ring?"

"I hid it."

"Where?"

He nodded to one of the socks now in a neat pile thanks to Nissa.

"You enchanted it and disguised it as a sock?"

He looked at me as if I was stupid, "No, I hid it
in
the sock."

"Let me have it Bob and I'll find some way of getting it to Orla."

"No."

"No?  This is your life we're talking about."

"I can't let them.  They are going to do something very, very bad.  I heard them.  Orla said they were going to test it on humans and then use it on the Fae.  It is something to give them power over mankind.  Do you know what would happen if the Fae out-numbered humans?  It would be... it would be hell!  And I can't help them do it.  All my life I've been a coward and now I can do something brave.  If I have to die I will die."

"Can the fairies really be a threat with this ring?"

"You met Orla, she is typical of her kind.  She is also very, very smart.  They want for nothing but the advancement of the Fae.  Once, long ago, they ruled the earth and it was a dark and bleak and miserable place.  It was a good thing when they started to die out, they were never meant to be the dominant species."

Bob was talking and behaving like a completely different person, I was surprised, but also impressed with his strength.

"I have lived with the Fae most of my life," he went on, "I was in their thrall and subject to their fancies.  I know what goes on in their minds.  They want to be the superior species again.  They can't!  It would be the end of the world!"

He suddenly burst into tears and covered his face with his hands.  It looked like there would be no stopping his weeping. 

Trevor looked at me angrily.  "Look what you done!"

"Me?"

"You upset him.  Those fairies are a bad bunch, why I'd like ta bash a few fairy heads in I tells ya!" He pummelled his fist into his hand.  This might have looked scary if his fists weren't the size of a three year old's.

I frowned at Trevor.  How dare he blame me!  "Okay then, we should return the ring to the British Museum where it will be safe."

"Huh!  Then they'd just send some other schmuck in ta get at it."

"Well what do you suggest then, Einstein?" I tilted my head to wait for his answer. 

His unibrow dipped to his eyes.  "I don't know, but if I did know it'd be better than your dumb ass ideas."

This argument could have gone on indefinitely, thankfully there was a buzz from the intercom.  The pizza.  Saved by the pizza.

I climbed up out of the sofa and made my way to the door.  I had already counted out the money and it was safely tucked in my pocket.

I answered the intercom phone with a greeting.

"Delivery," was the brief reply and I pushed the button to let the pizza delivery man in.

As I always did, I opened the flat door and waited as the footsteps thudded up the stairs.  Otherwise, if it was a new guy, they sometimes had trouble knowing which corridor to go down.  I was a pretty regular customer to Pizza Hut on East Barnet road and the Blue Ginger Indian restaurant on Station Road.  The delivery men normally knew where to find me and it was a little bit embarrassing when you ordered out as much as I did.  I flicked on the buildings internal light so he could at least see where he was going. 

The main stair well was not carpeted (more 1970s floor tile decor) and it was easy to hear the progression of my delivery.  As the sound of the footsteps drew closer I got the money out of my pocket.  Then I realised there wasn't just one set of feet coming up the stairs.  And there wasn't just one person coming up the stairs.  I stood in the corridor and looked towards the stair well door.  The light dimmed as silhouettes of the figures blocked the light.

My mouth opened to say something to Bob or Trevor but I wasn't sure what I actually wanted to say yet.  My brain hadn't yet decided what was going on.

The door opened and ten demons began to file through.  I knew they were demons despite never having seen one before (unless you counted Anne Robinson).  I felt it in my gut.  I suppose they could have been trick or treaters, but their costumes weren't that good.

They looked like big, butch men - the type who have been fighting since nursery school and knew every trick and every move.  They looked mean and it didn't help that they were all at least a foot and a half taller than me.  They all looked different but were clad in the same type of clothes, long black leather coats accessorised with very sharp and shiny curved axes.  Their faces were expressionless, their eyes an unnatural red.  They all had dark beards.  I knew there was a good r5 nbreason I didn't like beards.

A protective instinct kicked in.  I had to look after Bob.  It didn't matter for one second that I was going to get my arse whooped big time, I had a job to do - a duty.  One last thought crossed my mind.  I wished I had just been honest with Jez.  If I could face imminent death with ten demons surely I could tell a guy I loved him?  What was so scary about that?  I swore to myself there and then, eye to eye with the biggest and filthiest of the demons, that if I got out of this I would be honest with Jez.  I would tell him I loved him and missed him and wanted him in my life again.  Oh man, I really wanted to get out of this alive.