The Case of the Haunted Cot

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

It was quiet in the car. Miller liked to listen to music, especially while driving, but right now he found the silence more bearable. It made it easier to think. Miller was on his way to see Sophie and Keith Fullwood, to listen to their tapes and discuss with them what they wanted him to do next. And it was there that Miller kept hitting a wall.

Just what was he meant to do?

Miller had gone to sleep last night thinking about it, praying on it even. He trusted the Lord to give him a sign, some sort of guidance, but he hadn’t seen it yet. It would come. It had to.

Occasionally Miller had to remind himself to pay full attention to the road. He shifted in his seat, stretching out without letting go of the steering wheel. He wasn’t far from the flat now. Miller checked his speedometer, but as he looked down he caught a flash of black on his arm.

Memories and shame — the two eternally linked — engulfed him for an instant. It was absurd, as he often told himself. He couldn’t carry on feeling like that every single day. But today he still did.

Miller yanked down hard on the end of his sleeve until his arm was completely covered again. He was only able to fight back the other thoughts by focusing on Sophie Fullwood’s problems.

***

***

Price didn’t leave satisfied. As he walked down the stairs, he was tempted to knock on every single door and ask if they or anybody else they knew here had a baby. The main thing stopping him was himself. Price didn’t particularly care about his angry arrogant atheist public perception, but he was aware of it enough to know that he didn’t come across as approachable. Going door to door asking after young children had the potential to backfire. Worst case scenario, he’d get arrested and added onto a register. Best case scenario, some people answer his questions, but would most likely lie or be mistaken. He’d need to be clever if he wanted that information. He needed a people-person.

As Price descended the flight of stairs, he could see why this block made such a good setting for a haunting; everything, from the walls, floors and windows, was in a well-used and broken down state.

The building was so depressing that when Price exited it, the cloudy and dull British day suddenly seemed brighter. At least it wasn’t raining, and Price couldn’t immediately spot anybody likely to mug him.

From somewhere nearby, Price heard a car door slam shut. Worried it might be Sophie back from her strop, Price looked around to check. No, it was a man. Price turned his attention down to his clipboard, wondering why he hadn’t actually used it to take notes.

***

***

With his car locked, Miller turned to the block of flats, looking up at it. He noticed somebody coming towards him. Holding a clipboard and dressed in overalls, he must have been inspecting something. He passed within a few feet as Miller walked by, only catching a glimpse of his face out the corner of his eye.

A second later, Miller stopped.

There was something very familiar about that person he’d just passed. And while it took Miller a few seconds to place the face, the anger and fear started to build up first, deep down in his gut, as if his stomach had already recognised him.

***

***

Price stopped.

No, it couldn’t be.

He’d only caught the smallest glimpse of that man, but it had looked so much like that guy from the show. The moron — well, one of them. The moron that had stood up to him, tried to argue him into place. No wonder Price remembered him so well; that was hilarious. What was his name?