The North of England’s Only Transgender Detective Agency – A Short Story
Chapter 2
We sat in Lauren’s flat, sipping coffee. She was looking rather smug. She crossed her legs theatrically and smiled.
“I’ve got something – guess what?”
“A hernia? An STD? A new cat?” I mused with a laugh. “Give me a clue!”
“Read that!” she announced triumphantly, thrusting a document into my hands.
Lauren had got a transcript of the interim coroner’s report. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know how she got it – or what it had cost her.
When asked, she just smiled enigmatically. “I do have some business expenses…” she said mysteriously, handing over a bunch of receipts.
Glancing over them I could see costs for a double motel room, three bottle of Lambrusco, four double cheeseburgers, a (large) bottle of lubricant, a pair of rubber gardening gloves, a car tow-rope, and a latex maid’s outfit. Hmm… money well spent?
Looking at the coroner’s report, it stated that Norman and Ethel were found at the bottom of a steep quarry, having consumed a lot of sleeping tablets and alcohol, and were discovered only after a bulldozer had driven over the bodies.
Needless to say, the report’s conclusion was uncertain. Police enquiries were still ongoing. In other words, they had no idea either.
The owner’s of the quarry – EE Enterprises – said the quarry was not secure and trespassers were often found. Apparently, the place was popular with the local “dogging” fraternity. (Lauren felt the need to explain this one to me. She thinks I’ve led a sheltered life. Hmph.)
The really unusual things of note were that the Norman’s car was found at the top of the quarry with the letters “ROSE B” written in the layer of dust on the bonnet. Also, there were no bottles of fluid with which to take the large volume of tablets.
How I wished we could’ve been at the inquest.
I looked back up at Lauren. She was still smiling. This case seemed to be having a positive effect on her. She was off the booze, eating healthier (for Lauren anyway – kebab last night notwithstanding) and had not had a romantic liaison in days.
Funnily enough, the case seemed to be affecting me too. I was sleeping better, feeling invigorated – and rediscovering an attraction to Lauren that had died long ago.
She wasn’t elegant or classy, sure. But she had something else I liked – her mind. And yes, she was tall and slim – and now she was substance free, she was firing on all cylinders. Oh, her body…
Stop it, Nancy! Focus!
We recapped the case so far. Mrs. Pratt is aware her husband is about to abscond with an insurance payout – and the lovely Ethel. Mr. Pratt has a substantial life assurance, a grotty warehouse and bugger-all else. Mrs. Pratt is also aware he owes Eric lots of dosh and is a trainee pyromaniac. If she were to tip off Eric that Norman would be at the warehouse that night, it would be in her best interest for Eric to intervene with threats – or maybe more.
“But why get us involved?” Lauren asked. A good point.
“I don’t know just yet,” I replied. “What sort of business was Norman Pratt in anyway?”
“Marital aids. You know, sex toys! Vibrating things!” Lauren sighed wistfully.
“And you said you’d been to one of Eric’s dodgy parties. How dodgy are we talking? And what were you doing there?”
“Long story…”
“We’ve got all day, daring,” I said, getting comfy in my chair.
“I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?” She was playing for time. Probably to invent some story – I know her so well.
Lauren span her tale while we sipped away at our coffees. It seemed that Lauren and a “girlfriend” were picked up in a bar by Rex, and he invited them to a party run by Eric.
They were to be the entertainment for a select group of Eric’s chums who has “special” interests.
Lauren said that when they realized what sort of party it was, they left through a toilet window, hailed a taxi, and got home with their reputation secure. Well, that might be stretching it a bit.
“I am not proud of myself.” Lauren added. Was that genuine remorse? Amazing!
“A lucky escape.” I observed.
The conundrum remained. Did Norman and Ethel top themselves knowing Eric was going to do it anyway?
“Let’s start with the merry widow – she is seriously dodgy.” Lauren said. Pot calling the kettle in my opinion.
“Ok. We’ll check her out tomorrow.” I agreed. “For now though, you need a drink.”
“Yes, I need a stiff one!” Her innocent innuendos always tickled me.
“I won’t reply to that – it’s late and I’m too tired!”
She walked me to my car, arm in arm, kissed me on the cheek and went back inside. On occasions like this, I remember why I still love her.
**
I had slept surprisingly well, had some toast, and my car didn’t break down on the way back to Lauren’s flat. A good start to the day.
Lauren was up too. 9 am and she was ready to go. Amazing. 9am is like the middle of the night for her.
She looked stunning in her leather coat, jeans, and boots with a sensible heel (meaning they were only three inches). Fully made up and smelling delicious – I could’ve looked at her all day. But back to business.
“I will drive – you do the sat-nav thing. You’re better than me.” Lauren said, taking me by surprise – in fact I’m terrible with technology. Lauren can send text messages while having sex! On one occasion she sent one to the person she was in bed with! Not something to brag about, in my opinion, but I’ll admit that to send it with no spelling mistakes is quite impressive.
A short time later we pulled up outside the Pratt’s house. Or Mrs. Pratt’s house as it now was. A mock-Tudor pile, up on the hill and far away from “scum” such as Lauren and me.
And who should we see exiting the house? None other than the suited gorilla himself: Rex.
“Well, I didn’t see that coming.” Lauren observed. “Looks a bit knackered, doesn’t he?”
“Get out of sight, dear!” I hissed, shoving her head down. Our car didn’t exactly blend in with the flashy German cars parked around here.
“I think he’s too zonked to notice us.” Lauren hissed back. Well, she would know, wouldn’t she?
“So, Mrs. Pratt is banging Rex?” Lauren purred gleefully. For a person with very loose morals, she could be quite judgmental at times.
I wondered if Eric knows about them being so involved.
“Ok, so how do you want to play this? She knows us, we can’t roll up and ask If she wants to take part in a survey.”
“Just wait and watch, I guess,” Lauren said philosophically.
Three cigarettes and a can of Irn-Bru later, Mrs. Pratt was on the move. I flicked my ciggy out of the window. It fizzed as it made contact with a puddle.
We decided to follow her from a distance.
“Better stay a bloody long distance away,” Lauren said “our car sticks out like a…”
“Sore thumb?” I offered.
“Heap of scrap, I was going to say.”
“Shh! You’ll upset him.” I said, patting the car gently.
“Him?! It’s a car for God’s sake!” Alright. No-soul-Laurenn.
Morris – that would be the car – behaved perfectly mile after mile. No spluttering or other strange noises. Well done, Morris!
Where were we all going? To a 5-star hotel apparently. We watched as Mrs. Pratt made her way inside, meeting Rex just inside.
“Well, those two will be occupied for a few hours. Let’s go back to her house and have a look around!” I said.
“You mean, break in?” Was this Lauren’s attempt at sarcasm? Or did she really have no idea what I meant? If that was sarcasm, then it needs more work, darling.
“She might have left a window open or something.” I smiled.
“You mean break in!”
“Ok, fine, break in… excuse me for using nicer terminology.”
A short time later, we arrived back at Mrs. Pratt’s house. I pulled on my long leather gloves and turned to look at Lauren.
“Put your gloves on, darling. And don’t touch anything. Don’t move anything!”
Lauren smiled.
“And by that, I mean don’t pinch anything!”
Lauren sulked. “Spoilsport…”
We snuck around to the back door. I picked the lock with ease. It was a useful skill that always came in handy. You’d be surprised how often Lauren found herself handcuffed to her bed.
“Right, look out for anything useful.” I said, stating the obvious.
Mrs. Pratt’s house was as tasteless inside as outside. Magazines – mainly holiday ones – littered every flat surface. Used wine glasses, plates, ashtrays, and – yuk – used condoms. Very classy.
We found boxes of sex toys, underwear, and other kinky gear – Mr. Pratt obviously brought his work home with him – Lauren was practically drooling.
Looking further we found insurance documents, letters, policies, buts of paper with phone numbers. Someone else might assume that Mrs. Pratt was just keeping busy and distracting herself from her bereavement.
Not us. She had big plans. Plans that involved spending lots of money.
Nothing useful here. I locked the back door and we returned to the car.
Sat in the quiet, I lit a ciggy, then froze, listening hard.
“I haven’t started the car yet…” I said bemused.
“Obviously,” replied Lauren saucily.
“So how come I can hear a motor running?” I said, quirking an eyebrow at her.
“No idea…” Lauren said, looking mighty sheepish.
“Well, it’s coming from your pants!” I exploded. “You’ve nicked a bloody vibrator!”
“But it’s huge!” Lauren cried, squirming in her seat.
“Size isn’t important.”
“It bloody well is, dear. You better believe it!” She smirked and winked.
“Well, let’s just hope she won’t miss this one.” I conceded.
“Or three…”
I was getting exasperated now. “I sodding well give up with you, Lauren!” I shook my head.
**
A nice pub lunch – no booze – later, we sat silently – stolen vibrator turned off.
“Nance?” Lauren began. I braced myself. She only ever called me that when she was going to ask a favour. She continued in her best “little girl lost” voice. “If I could have the car tonight…?”
I knew it! And I was getting stroppy by now. “Morris?”
“Yes, bloody Morris! I could loiter around Mrs. Pratt’s place and see what turns up?” She said, trying to sound helpful. I could see right through that.
“What you mean is, you have a date tonight and he – or she – doesn’t drive. Correct?”
I was right! She bit her bottom lip and sulked. That look always melted my heart – and affected other parts of my anatomy.
“You can have the car – but I’m coming too!”
“But that means there’ll be three of us?” Well done, Lauren, I thought sarcastically. “We haven’t had a threesome for ages!”
True, darling. True.
“If your friend wants to join us on stakeout, that’s fine. It’ll be a bit of excitement for him – or her!”
**
That night we found ourselves parked up once again outside the Pratt’s house, with Lauren’s friend – who turned out to be a “she”. At least, in appearance. It was hard to tell as “she” never spoke a word. She sat in the back of Morris, playing on her phone. Every now and then the phone made electronic noises. A gambler perhaps? Or a gamer, whatever that was? I never found out.
They could have the car when we had finished here, and they could use it for whatever they wanted. I just hoped they’d at least sponge down the seats afterwards.
It had been an uneventful stake-out. Until Rex arrived in a van and began unloading boxes into the garage.
“Wasn’t that the van we saw inside Pratt’s warehouse?” Lauren asked. “Does it belong to the Pratts?”
“Yes, dear,” I said slowly “it has a huge logo on the side with PRATT’S DISCOUNT SUPPLIES – a bit of a giveaway!”
“Oh yeah…” she said stupidly. “I missed that.”
What was going on? What were they up to? Was Rex moving up in the world with Mrs. Pratt? Perhaps taking over where Norman left off? Either way, we were sure that Eric had no idea what his boy was up to.
An idea occurred to Lauren.
“Should we tell Eric? Anonymously of course. See if the shit hits the fan?” Oh, she could be evil, vindictive, and maliciously devious when she wanted. This is why I loved her.
“Lauren? Your friend…” I began.
“Bianca.” Lauren corrected.
“Thank you. Would she like to do us a favour?”
“She better, or I won’t be doing her one later.”
We caught Bianca up to speed and asked if she’d phone Eric for us. She seemed eager to help.
We drove to a nearby phone box – yes some of those still actually exist – and Bianca got out of the car and strutted over to it. I hadn’t noticed before, but she was actually quite attractive.
Dressed head to toe in leather, she knew how to work her legs. Lauren noticed me looking.
“Oi, bitch! Get your eyes off, Bianca, I saw her first! I can see you drooling – she’s mine! For tonight anyway…” She said bitchily. Never one for long-term commitment our Lauren.
Bianca phoned Eric, we’d told her what to say. She did her thing and returned to the car.
“Everything ok, Bianca?” I enquired pleasantly.
Bianca nodded affirmatively. Still no idea what gender “she” was – I didn’t care. Her silence only made me more attracter to “her”.
Lauren glared at me; arms folded. That brought me back to reality.
“Do you think Eric will come over?” Lauren pondered.
“Don’t know, don’t care! The point is, he may start to have doubts about Rex’s loyalty to him.” I said. “Let’s give him half an hour, and then you can have the car.”
Lauren squirmed deliciously and crossed her legs. Bianca smiled – I think. It was hard to tell under her heavy makeup. But she made a happy noise… I think.
Half an hour passed and no Eric, so they dropped me off at my flat.
“Please put the plastic sheet down. I don’t want Morris soiled by – well, anything – ok?”
Lauren and Bianca were not listening. They sped off to God knows where, to do God knows what. I felt slightly jealous. Of both of them.
I had some supper, went to bed but couldn’t sleep.
Bianca! She was why I couldn’t sleep. Damn.
I sat up with a jerk – no not like that – a jolt, if you prefer. I just remembered something.
When we had been searching the Pratt house, next to Norman’s bed was a pile of books. A biography of Orsen Wells and a gardening book – specifically about roses. Rose B!
In ‘Citizen Kane’ his last word was rosebud. Why would he write that word in the dirt on his car bonnet? Perhaps if he knew of his impending demise, he might leave a clue for the police to spot?
They, of course, would not get the clue. But some clever bitch like me might!
I bet it’s a password for something. Lauren will know. I will ask her tomorrow. I wonder what she’s been up to. I will ask her that tomorrow as well. She’ll definitely tell me – she can’t hold her own water, that girl. After that, I did sleep.