Clifton Falls (11 page)

FOURTEEN

News spread, and in the space of a few hours, the street where the Smythes once lived had become a centre for death. The neighbours became restless and needed fast answers.

Doug, the remaining officer, became swamped as he exited the house of the recent murder, but whilst placing “no entry” strips across the front door and front windows was hounded by screaming townsfolk, demanding the truth behind what’d just happened. Everyone who’d witnessed the carrying of corpses from earlier had seen it happen again, so how could he hide the facts from them?

Doug couldn’t keep the peace on his own, so required help before it became uncontrollable. He felt exhausted, pushing his way through the thickening crowd to make a phone call for assistance, but the racket was so loud that Susan couldn’t make head or tail of his words.

“Doug, what’s going on down there? It sounds pretty noisy.”

“I wouldn’t say it was pretty,” he said, while moving the crowd away from him. “Is Jason still there?”
There was no time for chatting, the man required one thing and that was help.
“He’s just finishing off the paperwork from earlier. Do you want to speak to him?”
“Please.”
“Doug’s on the phone,” Susan shouted to Jason.
“You’d better tell him to get off before it breaks.”
“Very funny, just speak to him,” she smiled.
“Doug, what’s up mate?” Jason asked, as he heard many voices on the other end of the line.
“I need your help. Can you get some backup and meet me outside the Smythes house? Talk to Craig, he’s at the hospital.”
“I’m on my way.”
Jason told Susan to contact Craig, (the other officer involved in the zombie dog murder), before leaving the building.
Eight hours had passed since the first murder took place, but still there were no clues on how and why this was happening?
Jason stopped the car outside the main entrance of the hospital and two men entered the vehicle. There was no Wayne for this mission. He’d been told to get some sleep. Mike needed him to be on full alert, so he tagged along with the other men.
For a brief moment all three men thought about the same thing, and they sat with eyes closed. It was their way of showing respect to the officer who’d died earlier. Jason knew it could’ve been him lying dead in the morgue so he said a special prayer to the man upstairs. After a short period of quietness the car was driven to the next destination point.
Doug had a stress free smile on his face when the other officers arrived, but as he moved closer to his workmates, the curious crowd followed, surrounding the officers as they left the car.
Jason engaged his mind with one of his stupidly amusing thoughts. He was a car-boot junkie, and the sight of people swarming the vehicle like vultures on a Sunday morning released a memory of the last time he did one, so, instead of waiting for an order from the chief, rushed to the back of the car and lifted the boot. “Roll up, roll up, have I got some goodies for you people.” The other officers didn’t understand what he was trying to do, but not one of them said anything to stop his actions. “I’ve got some wicked bargains. Come, see for yourselves. Take home today some crazy creature comforts that’ll explode your brain.”
He may’ve been babbling, but he received the full attention of the troubled looking street mob. Whatever it was he was doing, it was probably working. The people moved from the other officers and headed toward the man with the wandering words.
“Can you please move away from the vehicle and go back to your homes. There’s nothing to see here,” Mike shouted.
One of the nosiest members of the group pulled cash out of his wallet, thinking that the young constable was in fact selling some items. “I’m not going back inside until I get me one of those brainexploding creature comfort thingies.”
Jason sniggered. Mike pinched the top of his own nose, shut his eyes, and composed himself for the next barrage of words to be aimed at the stupid neighbour.
“Don’t be a fucking arsehole, mate, he’s playing with you.”
The man sneaked a look inside the boot of the car then turned, showing Jason a very unpleasing glare.
“Sorry pal, they’re all sold out,” the cocky constable said.
A few of the group became boisterous and impatient, and one person stepped forward, approaching the officer in charge. “We’re staying here until you tell us what the fuck’s been going on?”
The rest of the crowd screamed obscenities with every word this man said.
“Sir, just calm down, I’ll answer your questions, but only if everyone remains cool,” Mike said.
“You want us to remain cool after what we’ve witnessed. Are you joking? We’re all worried sick about our families. What’s going on, eh?”
“I can understand your concerns, but I can assure you that whatever went on here today won’t be affecting you.”
Mike tried quenching the situation but his quenching theory wasn’t working, as the angry man kept up the stinging questions. He now feared an onslaught happening soon. If the ringleader asked the personal, distressing stuff and wasn’t getting the right answers, then the four officers could well be overshadowed. Mike needed to calm this crowd down because the leader’s voice was becoming very loud, attracting more people to join the crowd. This was giving the leader the confidence to insist on answers.
“Just tell us something that’ll help us understand, but don’t even think about bullshitting us…”
Mike hesitated. He was scrambling to think of words to appease this man and the constant pressure wasn’t helping him to come up with one of his get out of jail cards. The story he used on Blake was way too risky to try on this bloke because he could end up with a fat lip, so Mike said nothing. This silence made the man angrier. “Come on, we want answers,” he shouted.
This kind of scenario should’ve been routine to Mike but even though he was the big chief, struggled to sort this one out and it bothered him. To make matters worse, a television reporter arrived on the scene. This wasn’t what Mike needed at this time. The most hated reporter, according to the police, was back. This guy would sell your grandmother to get a story. It didn’t matter what the investigation was, he’d find a way to get what he wanted. Mike watched every movement the reporter made and simply forgot about the other person. That was, until the leader of the crowd belted out his question again. “Are you going to tell us what’s going on, officer?”
The reporter and his team zoomed in for some close up shots.
“I do believe these people want some answers, Mike. In fact, the whole town needs to know what’s going on?” the reporter said. He loved every moment of this, and Mike knew it. “Don’t forget to comb your hair, as you’ll be going on air later.”
Chris and Mike had become enemies in a war between police and reporters ever since Chris nearly lost the other man his job a few months earlier. He’d written a story about the chief for the local newspaper, but Mike wasn’t aware that he was writing everything about him. The sneaky man had included Mike’s younger days when he’d dabbled with drugs and alcohol. The story made the chief furious. There was no need for him to put that in, but Chris thought the locals should know what kind of law enforcement they had protecting them. Mike knew the real reason to why Chris wanted him sacked, it was because the bank robbers were still at large. Chris blamed him for their escape, and for the death of his mother at the bank.
Mike had to pull himself together before losing his cool.
“I might’ve known you’d be sniffing for a story.” he said, glaring at Chris. “As you can see we’re very busy dealing with a crisis. This business doesn’t need you sticking your nose in.”
Chris moved closer to Mike. “I believe; if anything’s going on, then the public should have the right to know about it. Don’t you?”
Mike wasn’t impressed that someone had leaked the information out to the television station, but this wasn’t the time to bring it up. Mike wanted to smack the other man in the face, but knew he couldn’t. It was mostly because the camera was pointing right at him.
The restless crowd still waited for an answer. Mike needed a different approach and a sudden brainwave had him smiling again. He’d a plan to get them off his back and put the pressure on the little ferret of a reporter.
Aware of the eyes of the crowd boring into his back, Mike gestured to Chris that he wanted a quiet word away from the camera. The ball was in Chris’ court now so what was he going to do? Mike’s plan was to put the reporter in the spotlight. If he refused to take the information then the street folk would hassle him for sure.
“What’s going on now?” muttered one of the neighbours as the men walked up the side entrance of the Smythes house.
The other officers remained with the bunch of nosey neighbours in case they followed, but each was hypnotized by what went on and seemed happy waiting. Even the mouthy one had shut up.
Mike saw the dubious expression on the reporter’s face so knew this speech wasn’t going to be an easy one. It’d been three months since their last shouting match. Mike knew that the past conversation about Chris’ mum would be mentioned very shortly. However, he needed to talk about what’s going on now. Mike shrugged his shoulders and sighed.
What am I going to say? And how much information can I trust with the little shit in front of me?
Chris never gave him time to say anything. He went for the throat again with the same speech from the last time he spoke to Mike. “What’s happening with the case? Have you found my mother’s killers yet?”
“Not yet, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.”
Chris remained uptight over the conversation. Mike could tell because Chris was now walking in a circle, trying to think of more hatred questions to blast him with.
“Listen, Chris, it’s been three months, so don’t you think it’s about time you stopped blaming me for what happened to your mother?”
Chris stopped the circling motion and looked at him. It wasn’t a glaring look like before, like just after Chris found out about his mum. This stare was calmer.
“I’m not blaming you, not anymore. I’m just pissed off that you haven’t found the bastards who killed her.”
“I’ll let you in on all the information regarding the case if you help me with this?” asked Mike.
He passed on the information that Wayne told him, plus the names of the deceased. Chris looked puzzled.
“I’m confused. How can the dead get up and attack the living?”
“I need to find that out, but I need your support. Help us find the source and you can have the information on the robbers, plus this story with my blessing.” Mike wasn’t getting through with his approach. The other man’s reaction showed that. “You owe me. You do this and I’ll forget about what you wrote in the paper.”
Chris accepted the challenge, even though he was unsure about all this being true. Deep down knew Mike was right, he did owe him. “This is too weird to make up, so I’ll do what you ask.” Chris attempted a rare smile toward the chief. “I’ll be sniffing for the answer to all of this, you can bet on that.”
“What about the feisty mob in the street?” Mike asked.
“I’ll think of something to say to keep the public happy.”
“I’m sure you will, but remember, less is more.”
“What are you going on about, less is more?”
“The less you tell the people of this town, the more you’ll have for yourself,” Mike said with a laugh.
He patted the little man on the back as they slowly returned to the confused mob. Mike smiled because it was the first time in ages that he was able to have a pleasant conversation with the other man, but Chris was left feeling totally lost to the chief’s recent riddle of words.
The crowd remained quiet as the men closed in, and some of the more conceited viewers had switched their attentions to posing in front of the camera lens. That was, until the cameraman told them that the thing wasn’t switched on. Jason almost wet himself after seeing their antics to try to get on television.
Chris took over the job of explaining the deaths of the unfortunate ones. He wasn’t going to deny that people died, but the way they met their maker was going to come out differently. There was no mention of dead people rising, but he did say that there had been a domestic incident involving the residents of both houses. Surely the curious mob would see right through his lies? But deep down knew that Vincent Smythe never got on with Sid from next door.
Mike watched the man in action. So far his version was effective and the angry mob accepted the story. Mike smiled. He now knew he’d met his match in the bullshitting department.
Mike waited for the reporter to say goodbye to his new fans before telling him that he was heading back to the station. Chris had his own idea on what to do next. If the chief was letting him off the leash in search of the answers then he was ready to go undercover. He intended making use of the many disguises that were kept in his wardrobe. They were mostly fancy dress costumes, but he’d found them effective in the past.
Everything seemed to be one giant jigsaw puzzle, but maybe Chris could be the one to put the pieces together?

FIFTEEN

It was 6.00pm when Chris entered the main doors of the hospital. With a bunch of flowers held firmly and a Dictaphone placed in the inside pocket of his jacket, he calmly walked the corridors, searching for the clues that would lead him in the right direction. His disguise was up there with the silliest ones that the great ‘Inspector Clouseau’ wore.

A few of the nurses walked by and glanced at him. They never spoke, but Chris did get a cheeky giggle followed by a smile. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the mother of all nurses showed up, but she wasn’t smiling. “Can I help you?” she huffed.

Chris guessed that this nurse would see straight through him, (well, maybe not through him, because if she did then the disguise would’ve been a waste of time), if he failed with the right answers. “Oh yeah, hopefully, Hazel,” he said, squinting at her name badge and giving her what he hoped was a charming smile.

His basic training if involved in this situation was to pause and stare into the other person’s eyes. It was supposed to put them off. “I was told my uncle was brought in today.”

For now Hazel looked past the weird outfit, thinking the man was involved in some strange cult that she’d never encountered before. “Tell me his name and I’ll help you find him?”

“Vincent Smythe,” Chris said, while still staring.

Hazel frowned, pursing her lips while looking at him sharply.

“I’m sorry. Who are you?”
“My name’s John. I’m Vincent’s nephew.”
“I thought the Smythes didn’t have any living family members?” Had Hazel sussed what he was up to? Chris wasn’t expecting