Black soul rose by John Jones... - HTML preview

Herbie

He could not get through to Kieran last night so decided to visit his house to ask the whereabouts of where Jordan lived, as being a private investigator, at least 128

in his own mind, he needed all information, including Kieran’s address and phone number, which had already been readily given.

However, along the way to where he lived, he was curious to see several children all walking solemnly away, not from the house, but just in his direction.

They walked on by him, not paying any attention, as if not knowing he was there.

It was only when they had all walked past did Herbie realise he recognised two of them. They were Ian and Jordan, the pictures of which Kieran had sent to him, and there they were in this ‘gang’, walking away.

Still wearing his private investigator hat, he thought this a great opportunity to bring his skills into full effect. His skills he’d seen in films, on programmes, and in some exaggerated true crime magazines he’d read.

He was a top detective in his head, and here was his chance to prove it. Herbie was one of those teenagers that thought he was an expert in his chosen field, knew better than the ones who actually did it, even though his subconcious sometimes reminded him that maybe he didn’t have all the answers. A subconcious that was often supressed. He was fairly egotistical, but not overtly so. Often had an ‘I can do this’ attitude, even if it meant trying something way above his experience level.

I’m going to trail them, he thought. Let’s see where they go.

So he did, staying about seventy metres behind. He took out his phone to look at should one of them stop and look around, but none of them did.

He stood next to a parked-up van and could see them through unwashed windows as they all entered a house.

Now what? he had thought.

He wanted to knock and question them, get evidence of possession, and he would, but not tonight.

He knew that hanging around beneath a lamppost outside someones house looked very suspicious indeed, so walked on along the road, knowing where he was as he had grown up around here and knew the roads well.

Herbie was so excited at having a real case that he was up early the following morning. He wanted to ‘case the joint’ before they all left for school. If they were still there. At least one child should still be. They should be up and getting ready for the school day.

129

With his long brown raincoat, shades, note-pad, pen and phone, private inspector chief investigator Herbie was on the case of the possessed children.

Dangerous children, Kieran had said.

Yet a private investigator had to be brave, and not always play by the book, whatever that book was.

Screw the rules. I need to do whatever it takes to get the job done, and if that means throwing the rulebook out the window then so be it.

His subconscious kept reminding him that movies were fiction. This was real-life.

Whatever nerves he had were supressed. He could see the house in the distance, and was concocting his questions to ask when he knocked, but he could see from here, the front door opening, and several ‘children’ walking out.

It was 8am, and from that house was a fifteen-minute walk to the school.

Why are they all leaving so early? he wondered.

He was back on the trail, hurrying to get closer, but remain a good distance to not arouse suspicion.

He was curious when they turned a corner, because that corner took them away from the direction of the school.

Detective inspector…chief, hurried on, on the trail of this ‘gang’.