The Naked Keyboard

By Kevin Broadbent

The story takes place in the not too distant future. Mike August is a Private Investigator. He likes Coffee and word games and, he believes in God. Mike gets a phone call for a case that seems open and shut. However very soon he realises it is not. His life is suddenly put in jeopardy as he narrowly escapes an explosion. He is joined by a recently promoted police detective for protection and to help with his case. Then, in order to continue with the investigation, due to another explosion elsewhere, he joins a Government Agency - The Crown Criminal Investigation Bureau or CCIB. The agents call themselves Sibs. The investigation throws up some memories and a few twists as he learns a few things about some of the people in his life. He also learns a lot about himself in the process.

• Language: English
• Publisher: KP Broadbent
• Release date: Mar 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781520987958

Book preview

Chapter 1

The phone rang; I went over to it and picked it up.

Hello.

Hi, is that Mike?

Yes, who's calling?

Brian, Brian Davis, he said it as if I should know him.

Sorry, but do I know you? I returned.

Maybe, I’m a friend of Barry's, Barry Kelly.

Now Barry I knew, he was a one of my friends; tall, blonde and roughly my age. Well okay, but how can I help you? I said.

I would like some advice.

What about, I replied, Look can you tell me what this is all about I’m rather busy and......

Sorry, he butted in, You see I seem to have come up against some kind of unseen force.

I could tell he wanted to say something else, so I said, go on, there's something else isn't there.

Yes - I think I’m being haunted. Before I said anything he carried on Oh look I’m sorry I shouldn't have said that.  It's just that...that, I don’t know.  My interest was up.

Please go ahead, I think he heard the excitement in my voice so continued.

Ever since my father died, he said it with no emotion, I have not been able to do anything I want.  It’s as if, well, no. He was thinking how to put it, it's as if I’m not allowed to do anything.  I can't go to see my girlfriend, I can't watch my favourite television programme.

Hang on a minute.  You'll have to explain. I quickly interrupted.

Well when I get ready to go out I can't find my clothes, NONE of them. Well, the ones I got ready, that is. I go to switch on the TV and it doesn’t tune to the channel I want.  I have had the repairman in; he says nothing is wrong with it. So you see I’m in a bit of a jam.  A thought suddenly occurred to me I was about to say 'what about the telephone' when the line went dead.  Hello...Hello, I shouted down the phone, tapping the receiver as one does when one is cut off.  This of course would cut you off!

Oh Lord, I prayed, don’t let anything happen to him I realised I didn't have his address or telephone number.  I hit my forehead with the palm of my hand Idiot... no wait I’ll ring Barry.

I dialled his number. It rang, and rang, and rang.  Then someone answered it. Hello. It was a male voice.  Could I speak to Barry please? I said.

One moment, as he said it he obviously placed his hand over the receiver.  I heard him shout, although it was muffled BARRY, a pause, it's for you, another pause, then to me he said, who is calling?

Mike August, I replied.

It's Mike August, he shouted. 

A muffled thanks, then someone else spoke to me Hello Mike, it was Barry. What's the pleasure?

I spoke fast, eh, I need an address.  Do you know Brian Davis? He just rang me, looks like a case; the line was cut off.

Hang on a minute I can't think that fast. I’ll look in my book. Stop that, he said.

Stop what? I replied.

Not you, James here, he's the one who answered the phone.  I did not ask Barry what he'd been doing. Ahh here it is: Brian Davis 21 Baysern Road.  That's B.A.Y.S.E.R.N., Rampton. That do you?

That's fine.

So what's old Bri' been up to now?, seemed quite concerned when I saw him last.  He didn't say anything though.  Don't suppose you could enlighten me?

No, sorry Barry, if it is a case then I can't.  And if it's not then I might be able to let you know if Brian doesn’t mind.  I wanted to go but felt obliged to go through the formalities of friendship. So how are you then; haven't seen you around lately?

Well, I've got my business to run you know.  He was owner and manager of a company selling furniture. I was trying out a new bed when you rang.  Listen I don't want to sound rude, but I must go and I’m sure you have got something to do.  Pop around sometime.  Cheers, Bye.

Bye.

Bye. And with that I hung up.  I was glad.

I tore the address from the note pad on my desk and folded it carefully.  Put it in my top jacket pocket, which lay over my chair, which I picked up and left.  On my way out I took a look at the sign on my door.

MIKE AUGUST AND PARTNER

                PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR

(Supernatural My Speciality)

Daphne, my secretary, was back from Lunch.  I could not understand why she stayed.  She was about 35, long dark wavy hair, medium built and just the right height.  Right height for what I caught my self thinking.

I don’t know when I'll be back, Daphne.  But I’m out, okay.  You don’t where, right. I always say that every time I go out, not because I’m poor and don’t want to pay any bills, but because all P.I.'s say that don't they? And if there was a typical P.I. it was me.  Why is it we always talk to ourselves as if there was an audience?  Anyway more pressing business awaited me. 

As it happened, I knew Baysern Road it was about two miles from where I was.  I got into my small car; I only ever wanted a small car, and started the engine, aahhhh, the sound.  I turned left narrowly missing a pedestrian crossing the road.  He, I believe, swore. I just smiled at him.  So he swore again.  What is this world coming to, I joked out loud and drove on.  Baysern Road turned out to be the next road on from the one I thought it was.  I turned right into it and slammed on my brakes.  The car behind nearly hit me. In fact his bumper touched the rear of my car. But there in front of me was a man half scared out of his wits.  I thought I recognised him.  If one could recognise someone who looked as if he had had an electric shock and then had a bucket of water thrown over him afterward.  He must have recognised me.  He banged on my window and started rambling. I prayed quickly What do I do, Lord?  I felt peace, so I opened the window.

Are you Mike August? he raved, please I need your help; it's him.

Get in. He came around to the other side and got in.  He sat quietly for a moment or two to compose himself, which wasn't easy, and then he spoke.

Sorry, I’m Brian. I couldn't ring you back.  He, It, wouldn’t let me.

Who?

The thing - It, he broke down. I could tell he wasn't used to doing that. Then he composed himself again.

Firstly, what is ‘the thing’, ‘It’ or whatever you call it?

I thought it was my Father.  I don't believe in ghosts or didn't until this. Anyway he never liked my house.

So what do you think it is?  I jumped in, as he paused. I was getting good at that.

Well demons, I suppose, he replied

Demons do not make clothes disappear.

How would you know? he snapped.

Because it's my job to know and besides I have dealt with them before. Although I wasn't positive about that (the missing clothes thing) I couldn't let him know that.  I suddenly realised cars were going around me.  I started the car and drove on. Tell me why you look like this. I gestured at his appearance whilst waiting to turn left.  He related his story.

After we were cut off I replaced the receiver.  Then the telephone rang again. I answered it and some voice whispered down the line 'you're going mad aahh ahahah!' I slammed the phone down and ran that's when you nearly drove over me. That would have ended my trouble. He gave a sort of nasal laugh. Just think - MAD BANKER DIVES UNDER CAR.  Something triggered in my detective’s brain.

You work for a bank?  He was still in his headline daydream, so I said it again louder.  So you work for a bank?

I am the bank, practically.  He mused not quite with me yet.

How is business?

What?

How are things at the bank?

Okay, I guess!

Nothing strange happening at the bank?

No, then he had second thoughts Well, really, I mean, I misplaced my keys one-day.  Which, as I keep them on me all the time, apart from at night, is almost impossible.  But that's not really strange.  My secretary found them.  Nice girl....  He went distant again.  I was getting used to that in him.

How long were they missing?

What?

The keys?

Oh! About ten minutes.  I assumed he was still thinking about his secretary.

Ten minutes! How can you be so sure?

I erm, used them for something that I do every day same time.

Not quite satisfied with that I continued, how long has your secretary been working for you?

Five weeks.

Five weeks?

Yes, she was from an agency; highly recommended; nice girl.

I pulled my car into my parking space opposite my building complex. I only occupied two offices and let the others out. Sorry to pull you into the real world but we have reached my office.

You sounded as if you wanted to know about my secretary?

Oh I did!

Why say it like that?  As if you're suspicious of her.

I'm a detective.  I'm suspicious of everyone.  I think he bought that line.

Yeah, sorry.

That's alright your under a lot of stress.

We walked up the steps and down the corridor towards my office.  As we walked into the front office Daphne was getting ready to go out.  Any messages? I asked her.

Nope, she replied, but here's your mail. She handed me several envelopes and papers.  I'll be back in about an hour.  I have to take my son to the doctors.  Is that all right?

No problem here.  Is your son okay? I mean it's not serious.

Just a routine check she said as she stepped out of the office with a wave.  I walked into my office and ushered in a patient but scared man. 

So, I said, continuing where I left off, tell me about your secretary.

Well, as I mentioned I got her from an agency .., ermm, Smithson & West. Yeah that's the one Mr West was a friend of my father.

How old is she? I asked.

Does that matter?

It might.

27, I think. He jerked his head about and squinted, as if he were doing some meaningful arithmetic. No tell a lie, she's 26; 27 next birthday. Here I was scribbling all this down.  I found out that she lived with her boyfriend, of six years, in a flat in New Foxton, three miles north of Rampton.  She, it seems, was 5 foot 10 inches tall, dark hair, permed, and 'good looking' as he had put it.  She had been there five weeks and got on with all of the staff except Gerry.  This I had queried.

Why doesn't she get on with him?

Something about his belief's. I think he's Pentecostal or something, but you would know about that.  I nodded.  He must have read my thoughts because he continued. She's atheist.  I have been taught not to mix business with my religion.

Sorry... I don't follow?

I'm an Anglican.  Member of the church council too. He thought that would impress me. It did not. Barry mentioned you go to a Pentecostal Church and believe in demons, that's why I threw that in as a suggestion.  Sorry I snapped at you.

No problem. Except, I believe demons exist not IN them, also My Religion as you put it is my whole life not just Sundays or church meetings. It's a relationship with God.  Not only that, He's my Boss. It's Him that runs this business I only manage it.  It is He who tells me what clients to take on and which ones to avoid.  Now it was Brian's turn to look puzzled.

I don't understand.  How can God own a business.

Look when Jesus came to Earth, as a man, and died on the cross he shed his blood as a ransom.  Put it this way, I was going my own way. Business was bad. Someone showed me what it was all about.  That two kingdoms existed.  You can only be in one or the other. Unfortunately I was in the wrong one. I was a slave to my selfishness, my wrong doing, SIN the Bible calls it.  I couldn't free myself.  That is why Jesus came.  He paid the price and took me out of the bad kingdom and placed me into the right one.  And he forgave me all my sin.  I gave my life to Him and that includes my business.  He was speechless.  When he found his voice, it had dawned on him why his secretary did not get on with Gerry.

No wonder Samantha doesn't like Gerry if he believes like you do.  As it turned out I knew Gerry and he did; probably even more so.

As it happens, Gerry goes to my church.  And, well, yes he does. Now I also know where he works.  I suddenly remembered I had not even offered him a drink. Where's my manners, I said, would you like a drink? Tea, coffee or something stronger?

A coffee would be nice.

I could sense he was relaxing, now that he was away from his home.  What does your Bank do? I said resuming the questioning.  I realised that it was a stupid question.  He did not notice.

The usual.

How long have you been working there?

Coming up to fifteen years.  A smile crossed his face as a thought occurred to him.  Funny.  To 'celebrate' my fifteen years long term employment, they are sending the gold for us to hold for 6 months.

Sorry I’m not with you.  Although I thought I was beginning to understand.

The bank has a reserve of gold, which a different branch holds every six months.  It's a custom that goes back to the beginning of the bank’s history.  Anyway this time we get the pleasure.  A lot of work is going on and I can tell you I don't need all this extra stress.

I was beginning to see something, a hunch if you like.

Who would take over from you if you had to, say, retire?

I wouldn’t retire, he retaliated.

Okay, say you had to leave through ill health because of these strange occurrences.  Who would take your place?

I suppose that would be David Pithings.

He’s your deputy?

Yes.

What’s he like?

He’s a likeable sort of chap, quiet though, highly intelligent, I’m surprised he’s still there.

Uh?

Well, he should have applied for his own bank manager position a year ago, but I think he wants my job.

That surprises you?

Yes, he lives a few miles out of town, nearer to our Jessup branch.

Look, I interrupted him, this is what I think, I may be wrong, we’ll find that out as we go along.

So you’ll take the case, he interrupted back.

I think I already have.  My fees are not cheap you know, and I expect my expenses paid.

Money is not a problem.

Right, here’s what I think; someone wants you out of the way, not just for the job, but you mentioned the gold, well that’s what I believe they're after.

He was dumfounded for a few moments. Well shouldn’t the police be involved? he finally said.

Not yet.  If we scare these people off they’ll try again later or somewhere else, no we’ll play along.  Besides if it comes to it I know someone on the force.

Don’t all you chaps ‘know someone in the force’? he joked.

I suppose so.  I handed him his coffee. Milk, sugar?

No thanks.

Okay let’s get down to business. I said officially. I charge £750 a week, plus my expenses although incidental costs are included in my fees.

That’s better than I expected, he replied.

I like to please my clients. I might ask some seemingly silly questions and some you may hate me for, but, I have to ask even for curiosity’s sake.

Okay, he replied in very non-committal way.

First thing is I will need David’s address, if that’s not a problem?

I can’t do that, company policy and all that.

Well, I’ll have to start somewhere, I replied, rather saddened by this, but having expected it. Can you tell me what time he leaves of an evening roughly.  As I said I have to start somewhere and he seems the best candidate. He thought for a moment and let out a heavy sigh as if fighting his conscience or company conscience.

Okay, I can tell you this, he leaves work about 6:30pm, nearly the same every day. Except Tuesday, then he leaves at 5pm to visit his sick mother in hospital. I gave him a look to say which one.  He caught it. County of Dukeston General, so he says.  I wrote it down.  Nodded for him to continue. What else can I tell you?  I can tell you he lives in Jessup but not where abouts. I really am sorry, that’s all I am allowed to tell you.  He looked genuinely sorry then he lit up.  He pulled an envelope from his pocket and started tapping it with his hands. There is this payslip I forgot to hand to him. I was just on my way to post it, when all this happened."  He waved his hand about to signify ‘all this’ and as he did he dropped the envelope, well more like threw it at me.  I gracefully handed it back to him making sure I took note of the address as I did so – 73 Greatstone Street, Lower Jessup.  He forced a blush and did his best to look embarrassed.

I just said quietly thanks.  To anyone looking in they would see the act and think it very convincing.

Mr August, I’m back now, can I get you anything, interrupted the intercom on my desk with Daphne’s voice.

I pressed a button and spoke, not me thanks. I looked up, you? I said to Brian.  He shook his head.  Not now Daphne, but I may need you in a few minutes.

Brian drank down his cold coffee and stood up placing the cup on the desk. So I can expect to hear form you soon, he quipped almost out of automation.

Yes, was all I answered; shook his hand and showed him out.  Daphne didn’t even look up until I came back.

Chapter 2

Anything? she asked.

Just a case of robbery I think.

Robbery! Has he been robbed? she quizzed almost shocked, he’s my bank manager.

Not yet and that’s what I want to avoid. I continued almost to myself, your bank manager! That might come in handy sometime.

Don’t frighten me like that. She sighed.

Sorry, can you type my notes out and give me a hard copy. I handed them over.

You look as if you’re not sure of something.

I’m not; I thought this was a simple case but something tells me that it’s not.  Can you ring the group and get them to start praying.

‘The group’ were a few Christian friends who were behind me in prayer including my Mum and Dad, who started the idea after I came to Christ and realised I would come up against some unsavoury characters and situations that were, lets say, risky to my well being.  So far God was faithful.  God is always faithful and as I thought it Daphne spoke you know Mike, God is always faithful.  I just love the way He always dots the Is and crosses the Ts.

So I smiled and replied with faith and conviction you bet He is. I went into my office and closed the door.  Hold my calls, I spoke into the intercom. I sat down and prayed.  When I opened my eyes I had a sense of peace coming over me.

Thank you Lord, I prayed as I stood up.  I looked around my spacious office. In one corner stood a bookcase half the wall long and not very full of books, well actually, if you counted five you would be doing well. Next to that stood three filing cabinets, two green and one grey, contrasting the décor which itself was a dull sandy colour. The cabinets went up against the other corner.  The wall coming up to my desk was almost filled with a whiteboard for dry markers, useful for making large notes and getting my thoughts together.  The board was raised on a wall fixing which included runners for moving it along the wall.

I placed my hands flat on my large desk. Behind me a large window filled most of the wall and beyond that the town of Rampton, built by millionaires a few years ago after the great recession ended in ’94, was very busy indeed.  The last wall was a partitioned one on which hung various awards and a copy of my operating licence.  It also contained photos, there I was with The Mayor and there was the one that was taken on the day I left the force – memories.  The rest of the wall contained a door to the outer office and a low cabinet containing A4 lever arch files, which had paper in.  It was always only paper when not needed, although some of it was very important.  On top of the cabinet was the printer for my PC that sat proudly on my desk flickering.  Although technology had improved over the years I still preferred my 2009 model it reminded me of my graduation from Police Training School.  I tapped a few keys, yes it still worked, I sat back down. The database contained details of all my cases and had a direct link to the police database, including, should I want it, the fingerprint files.  I entered my password and logged into the system.  I needed to find all the addresses of bank robbers who might in some way have connections with the occult or with using the old ‘negative psychology’ trick as it was known nowadays.  Similar to reverse psychology that was used on kids, where you say one thing in order to get them to do the opposite, but more lethal in the sense that you made people think things about themselves which were not true.  Eventually they ended up believing it and becoming like it.  For example someone told Jimmy he was stupid, he wasn’t, he just forgot the apostrophe, someone else then said he was stupid because of something else and so on eventually he would think he was and make more mistakes to the point where he was stupid. A slow form of hypnotism if you like. If you intensified the negative sayings then you could change someone’s character in a shorter space of time.  Although it had been going on for years it had only been backed up by scientific study more recently.

This is what I thought was the case with Brian.  I pressed the intercom, Daphne, what was the name of the scientist who brought to light the negative psychology theorem?

James Amaziah.

Thanks.

The lists started coming up on the screen as they were being printed.  I scanned them and my eyes fell on a name ‘Amaziah’.  The first name was Michael but it was interesting no less.  I jumped from my seat to the printer knocking over the chair in process.  I didn’t stop to pick it up.  When I got to the printer I ripped off the printout and read down the page.  Yes it was there – dates, places, and even his current address. My heart sank; he was in Dukeston high security prison hospital with a fractured skull.  I went back to my desk, picked up the chair and interrogated the database on all it had on Michael Amaziah.  Relatives, aliases, places he frequented everything it had.  One thing I was grateful for was when the government said it would keep detailed records of all criminals over level 5 rating.  He was level 12, which meant he was extremely dangerous.

Level 1 was stuff like petty theft, level 2 - car theft.  You got level 3 if you were caught three times and it meant prison. Level 4 was actual bodily harm, if the person attacked recovered quickly, 5 if they didn’t, 6 were things like manslaughter, 7 murder, rape etc. and level 8 serial murder etc.  The higher the level greater the penalty.  Rape was level 7 on par with murder because of its affect on the person, even with counselling it could affect them for the rest of their lives. It had taken a lot of lobbying from those affected and those involved in trying to repair the hurt lives, but eventually they won and it became a level 7 crime.

So with all of that level 12 was quite high.  These people, and there were only a few, were heads of large criminal organisations and had some psychological hold over their minions and certainly over their victims.  This is why it held my attention; Michael Amaziah was level 12.

The report I was now looking at in front of me told me that the powers that be were planning to put him one level higher to level 13.  This meant the end of him; he was finished.  Criminals at level 13 - the highest level – were deemed to be insane, they had no conscience left and were a danger to themselves as well as everyone else.  When they were caught they were restrained.  How they proved all this was beyond me but it seemed to work.  Crime levels never seemed to rise above level 7 although it occasionally did.

I started thinking why would someone like Amaziah be into gold robbery, it was not like him.  Maybe I was wrong and perhaps this was deeper than I first thought, after all it sounded like a plot from a Sherlock Holmes story. Or perhaps his name appearing was just pure coincidence and it was a simple case. He was incapacitated and not able to do much in his state. So why couldn’t I shake the feeling that it was deeper than the gold plot and that he was involved somewhere?  Even if the link was small I had to find it.  My thoughts were interrupted by the intercom buzzing.

Yes Daphne?

Your notes are ready, shall I bring them in.

Please. Click – my finger slowly came off the button my brain still in motion.

As the door opened I stood up to reach out and take the papers handed to me.  Daphne suddenly looked worried. What?! I exclaimed.

You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. She replied.

Worse, I think this case might be harder than I first thought.

How? She looked into my eyes to find the answer that wasn’t there.

I have absolutely no idea, but Dukeston may have something to do with it.

That’s in there, she said flicking the pages in hand.

Where? Show me.

She