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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Special Circumstances - 14. The Inquest

The hall in which the inquest was held was small and filled with the musty aroma of aged wood. Only four rows with about six to eight chairs each were provided as normally, inquests didn’t attract much attention. Today, however, the coroner’s court in the county hall was filled.

I was in the witness chair facing the audience. I thought I’d seen the Windermere neighbourhood sergeant among the crowd, but I couldn't be sure. The victim didn’t have any relatives. Apart from the farmer on whose land the body was found, the rest of the audience was probably composed of journalists.

We’d seated ourselves in the first row to the left. Closest to the wall sat Mike who was wearing a suit and looking at me with encouragement. Then there was my empty seat. To the left sat Inspector Boswell with a stony expression. He and I were wearing presentation dress. Finally, at the start of the row closest to the aisle sat Morris-Walker.

The coroner had just finished asking my details which the clerk had duly noted down. Now, I was to be questioned, and I was about to lie. It wouldn't have any consequences regarding the outcome of the inquest, murder was murder after all. Nevertheless, I had a knot in my stomach. I had just given my affirmation I would tell the truth.

The coroner, an officious looking man in his late fifties, began his questioning. “Constable Artois, concerning the death of Mrs Barbara Sandra Stevens during the night of Saturday to Sunday last in the barn on farmer McPherson’s field, please state your reason for being at the scene.”

“On that evening, I was on duty as Close Protection Officer to Minister of the Crown, the Right Honourable Mr Morris-Walker. In that capacity, I was driving the allocated unmarked police car on Elms Drive from direction Woods End in direction Beanstead Place.”

“Why did you stop by the field?”

“I needed to take a bio break.”

There were chuckles in the audience. I’d chided the minister for having come up with that explanation, but he’d insisted this was the only reasonable and unquestionable explanation for stopping there.

“And then?”

“Well, sir, I asked the minister for permission to stop at a safe location which he granted. I came to a halt opposite the gate of said field. I got out of the car, and while I was relieving myself, I heard a scream. That was very odd in that remote location. I asked the minister whether he could come out of the car and would be willing to listen for anything unusual, too.”

“And what did the minister do?”

“The minister left the car, and both of us heard another scream. We determined it had come from the direction of the field and decided to investigate. We were discussing me going over the gate when there was yet another scream, really full of panic. We both climbed over the gate into the field of cows.” That was, of course, totally made up, but still close enough to the truth.

The coroner said, “Please describe the time and the prevalent conditions.”

“It was just after one o’clock at night, sir. It was dark. It was a full moon, but visibility was poor, because a layer of clouds obscured the moon. The cows were just darker spots on a dark field. I had a torch to light the immediate path in front of us.” I couldn't explain about the cows congregated at the gate or the unnatural wind, so I didn't.

“Why did you light only the path in front of you?”

“I didn’t want the minister nor me to step into cow pads.”

More laughter came from the audience. The coroner, obviously not used to national media, was irritated by the audience’s behaviour. Most of them were reporters from the tabloid press. Having a minister embroiled in a death which was soon to be declared a murder was a good story.

“What happened then?”

“We were climbing the small hill on which the barn stands when suddenly from among the cows, a man arose and charged me. At first, I was able to defend myself from the unexpected attacker. However, a second attacker was able to knock me out from behind.”

“What is the next thing you remember?”

I disliked the next part of the story to tell, it was so unprofessional. Being knocked out by manifested spiritual entities who were strong and at a ratio one to four was one thing, but what I was about to say filled me with shame.

“The minister knelt next to me and shook me. He helped me up and together we continued to walk to the barn. Because of the attack, I drew my Taser and approached much more carefully.”

“What had happened to your assailants?”

“Because I was unconscious, I can’t tell, sir. You must ask the minister about that. Fact is that they weren’t there when I came round.” That was true, most of the lies were over now.

The coroner took some notes and motioned for me to continue.

“We approached the barn, and I asked the minister to stay back which he did. One of the barn gates stood open. There was no light in there. I entered the barn, using my torch to light the way.”

“Why did you ask the minister to stay back?”

“First, because of security, I didn’t know whether I’d be attacked again. Second, if a crime had been committed in the barn because of crime scene preservation.”

“What did you find in the barn?”

I sighed before continuing. This was what the fleet street gangsters were after. “In the torch light, I saw the barn was empty of animals. When I’d walked a couple of meters into the building, I saw the body of a naked woman lying on the straw in one of the pens. I climbed into the pen. I wanted to check for vital signs by touching the throat to feel for a pulse on the jugular. At that point, I noticed her throat had been slit. I withdrew from the corpse and traced my steps back to preserve the integrity of the crime scene. I called local control to inform about the scene and ask for backup.”

“Can you describe the throat wound?”

I indicated it on my own throat. “From here till here, severing the main arteries on both sides.”

“Apart from you nobody else entered the barn?”

“From the time of me entering the barn till backup arrived and a proper perimeter could be established, nobody else entered the barn or came close to the body as far as I can tell.”

“As far as you can tell, Constable?”

“It was pitch black in the barn, and I only had a torch. I moved my torch around. I didn’t have a constant view of the corpse.”

“Why did you move your torch around?”

“It might have been that somebody was hiding the shadows, either to escape or to attack. I tried searching the walls and checking for other exits.”

“Thank you, Constable. I don’t have any further questions. Please be seated.”

I got up and returned to my seat. Mike took my hand and squeezed it.

“The Right Honourable Minister Morris-Walker, please.”

The minister got up from his seat under a shower of flashes and took the place I’d just vacated. Like with all other witnesses before, the coroner asked him his details which were duly noted.

Morris-Walker gave answers which corroborated mine. We’d rehearsed it enough. He explained that after the men had knocked me unconscious, they’d just turned and fled, ignoring him and simply running back towards and then past the barn. Morris-Walker confirmed he hadn’t entered the barn. The minister was released and returned to his seat.

The coroner completed some notes and stood up. He declared, “This inquest determines the wilful murder of Mrs Barbara Sandra Stevens by person or persons unknown on the night of Saturday to Sunday last.”

The inquest was closed, and witnesses and the audience were free to leave. Surrounded by reporters, Morris-Walker went straight to his car, where the current on-duty Protection Officer awaited him. They drove off, escaping the thong of reporters.

I used the opportunity to lead Mike to his car. I didn't want the reporters to turn their attention to me. While there was an unwritten agreement Protection Officers wouldn't be featured in the press to protect their anonymity, recent cases of criminal behaviour by Protection Command officers had more or less negated that.

Mike drove us back home. I was grateful for the support he gave me. The last three days had been particularly bad. I’d failed. A woman had lost her life, because I’d listened to Morris-Walker and not reported his findings. Because I’d been overwhelmed, knocked out cold, and fallen into the mud like a sack of potatoes.

While I’d been laying on the ground unconscious, the ritual murder had been completed. The minister had indeed knelt by my side when I came around. I’d only been out for less than a minute, but that had been enough. I’d gotten up and with effort concentrated on speeding up and darksight. I’d seen the two surviving manifested entities covering the murderers’ escape from the barn. I’d attacked and defeated them and then started to pursue the murderers when four more appeared out of nowhere. They’d delayed me enough so that the murderers could flee.

“Will you get any days off?” Mike’s voice drew me out of my thoughts.

I chuckled. “No. While this counts as duty time, finding bloody bodies is part of the job.”

“This weekend you’re back on duty?”

“Yes, and after that, I’ll have to go for two weeks to Gravesend for compulsory retraining.” I turned to him. “I’ve told you that, haven’t I?”

He quickly glanced at me and smiled. “Yes, you did. Just verifying. I wonder what I shall do for two weeks without you.”

I smiled back at him. “You’ll be bored. I admit I’ve gotten used to working weekends and having the week together.”

“Yes, me, too. But I won’t be bored. I’ll have some duties with your old shift and talk about you.”

“I bet Nam will love that.”

There was silence. While it was companionable, I could feel Mike wanted to say something. After a while, I couldn't resist any longer.

I turned to face him. “Spill it, Mike.”

At first, he didn't say anything, but then he asked, “Bio break, Jamie? Bollocks!”

He looked at me, albeit briefly as he was driving down the motorway. “Do you really expect me to believe that? Others might not have noticed, but I did. You were fidgeting and not looking at anyone when giving the answer.”

“Hm.”

“Jamie, I understand finding a bloody corpse is distressing, but you’ve been in this job for eight years and have seen your fair share of corpses and injuries and disgusting stuff. It seems you take this death personally. If I add your behaviour over the last weeks, I can’t help but wonder whether you’ve just been lying at the inquest.” Mike paused and sighed deeply. “You. Lying for that sodding toff.”

He didn't look at me. I didn't dare glance at him. I felt ashamed. Instead, I turned to watch the traffic in the opposite direction. Mike was perceptive. He was also disappointed. That hurt.

Again, Morris-Walker's words rang in my ears, ‘Nobody must ever know.’ However, I might lose Mike if I didn’t give an explanation.

I sighed. “I did. Drive off the next exit and find a place to stop.”

Mike nodded acknowledgement and did as I’d asked him. We came to a stop at a parking place off an A-road. In the time it took us to get there, I assessed how much I’d tell. Since I’d started working for the minister, lying came so easy. The problem was remembering what you said to whom.

Mike turned off the engine and focused on me. His expression was neutral. “Here we are.”

“Here we are, indeed.” I sighed. I faced him and said, “As far as I can tell, Morris-Walker noticed something about murders of disabled people. He had a report on crimes on the disabled compiled, and he identified three murders which fit a pattern.”

“What pattern did he see that the professionals couldn’t notice?”

I took my private phone and pulled up an image Morris-Walker had sent me, the map of England with the imposed pentacle. However, I held it close to me.

“What I’m about to show to you is the reason for the secrecy. It’s totally bonkers, and it mustn’t get out!”

Mike raised an eyebrow. I held his gaze. Finally, he nodded.

“I mean it, Mike!”

“Why are you so protective of him?”

“While I don’t like his party or politics nor him, particularly, he tries to help.”

Mike sighed. “Okay, promise.”

I showed him the picture.

“I see.”

I pointed at the relevant pentagram’s points. “The the first murder, a disabled person missing the left arm, then here one without the right arm, without the right leg, and finally this one, without the left leg. All murders at full moon.”

I looked at Mike. He quickly acknowledged my gaze, “Go on.”

“We tried to prevent this murder on our own. I failed.”

I looked away.

“What really happened?”

“You heard it. I was knocked out.”

He looked at me with suspicion, but I held his gaze. That was true after all.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

I felt bitter. Hindsight was such a nice view. “To be ridiculed? Apart from that pentacle drawing on the map there’s absolutely nothing in the reports which could tie these murders together. They all have different modes of death. Even the determined times of death vary enough to not be considered at full moon. I haven’t got a shred of tangible evidence. Can you imagine how my superiors would react if I brought them this?”

Mike grimaced and nodded. “Actually, I can. What now?”

“We’ll try to stop the next one in three week’s time. These maniacs mustn’t succeed. This time, I won’t fail!”

“Jamie, we’re talking murder here. This is a case for the police.”

“Yes, Mike, I know. I have one on my conscience now!” I glared at him. “We’re also talking panic and responsibility. Can you imagine the public’s reaction if it were to become known a group of loonies is playing occult ritual?”

Mike was quiet, and I continued my rant.

“What about this headline? ‘Ritual to end the world prepared in the Midlands’? Or ‘Minister going mad’? Better still: ‘Britain’s final solution for disabled people’. Apart from that, Morris-Walker and I would be the Home Office laughing stock if either of us were to propose a pentacle as a suggestion for tying murders together without any other evidence for these cases being related.”

“I can see that, Jamie.”

“Remember, that drawing is the only thing connecting these cases, nothing else.” I paused again for a moment. “Unless you’re willing to believe in the occult that is. Full moon nights, missing limbs, and that stupid pentacle.”

Mike gave me a disgusted look. For a brief moment, I felt I was Morris-Walker and Mike was me. The role reversal was strange.

“But there’s a life at stake,” Mike exclaimed.

“Do you remember when I asked about what you’d have done in the case of the German police officer and using violence to rescue an abducted child?”

“Yes, why?”

“Well, that’s what I was referring to. Do I go and report this over the minister’s head, just to lose everything if it isn’t true in the end?”

Mike was silent for a moment, his appalled expression didn’t wane. “An excellent parable, boyfriend. I really don’t like being contradicted by my own words.”

I smiled at him and leaned over for a kiss.

He sighed. “What now?”

“As brutal as I might sound right now, I still agree with your reasoning. I can’t sensibly report this, but we’ll try to prevent it from happening, if it happens.” Fat chance of that!

Mike sighed again. “I wish I hadn’t asked.”

“Ignorance is bliss.” I looked at him and waited for him to seek my eyes. “Let’s go to my dojo. I need to hit something.”

“Yes,” he said and started the car. “Me, too.”

We first drove home to change. While I had spare stuff at my locker, I brought Mike only as guest, because he still had his own martial arts hall he attended regularly. We thought it healthy to keep it that way. Also, today, we needed both our rides, because he needed to go to work while I needed to go home.

We spent the afternoon fighting. First, we opposed each other. We’d agreed early on we wouldn’t hold back if we were facing each other. That didn't mean trying to hurt, but only to do some honest fighting. Mike was better at Kendo than I was. When he hit the showers before heading to work, I continued with some Krav Maga bouts. My day ended with pumping iron.

Having arrived at home, I couldn’t resist calling Mike. Tonight was Melanie’s and Nam’s blind date, and I’d asked Mike to check on them. He picked up relatively quickly.

“How is it going?” I asked.

“Well, they’re both still here. They’re taking my recommendations.”

“Good.” What did I care about what they ate? “And?”

He chuckled. “Jamie, I can’t just go over there every five minutes. It seems fine. Why are you so nervous about it?”

“Well, Nam got us together. It has been two years since his divorce. I really want him to move on and find a girlfriend. I feel Melanie could be the right one.”

“Jamie, if it is to be, it will be.” I could hear Mike smiling when he said that.

I was probably too eager. “Yeah, you’re right. Keep me posted.”

“Sure, I will.”

I put myself to the task of watching a film.

My phone rang and woke me up. It was Mike.

I was still sleepy when I answered. “Hi, boyfriend. What’s up?”

He sounded unhappy. “We’re closing, and they’re still sitting there talking.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”

“For them maybe. Not for me. The others are leaving now. I’ll stay here till the lovebirds go home.”

My turn to chuckle. “Do it for a good friend.”

He sighed. “Yes. See you later. Love you.”

“Love you,” I finished and hung up.

I was fast asleep when Mike came home and didn’t notice him joining me in bed.

The next morning, I had to first deal with a tired and thus moody Mike. Once the alarm rang and we stirred, he started complaining about him staying on longer because of Melanie and Nam. I listened patiently.

“Over an hour, Jamie!” Mike said yawning and finally coming to the end of his rant. “They were talking and talking and talking. And if I hadn’t given them a slight hint by yawning loudly when I shut the curtains at the restaurant, they’d probably still be sitting there and talking. Gosh.”

“So, you ushered them out?” I smiled broadly, suppressing a laughter. I could so imagine the scene.

“Well, yes and no. Melanie noticed the empty restaurant half an hour earlier and suggested calling it a night, but then they just went on and on and on. I was falling asleep, Jamie! I had to do something. So, I demonstratively closed the curtains and yawned loudly. Nam picked up on it, and they finally made a move, both apologizing profoundly.”

“So, they had a good night, you think?”

“Yes, they did. Both said so and thanked us profoundly for food and opportunity.” He smiled at me. “Nam got what he deserved. Melanie is appropriate payback for settling me with you.”

“Oi!” I hit him with my pillow.

“Don’t hit old men!” He replied and started tickling me.

“No tickling!” Where was a stab vest to protect my flanks when I needed one? “Stop!”

Our boys fight turned into a long post-coital cuddle later.

Finally being able to check my messages, it seemed Nam and Melanie had both enjoyed their date. They would meet up again today.

I congratulated myself for a job well done.

Copyright © 2024 lawfulneutralmage; All Rights Reserved.
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A very special thank you to my editor @Mikiesboy and beta reader @CassieQ. Their support and advice has been invaluable.
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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