Episode 17 – Maya Gohil 

 March 18, 2021

By  Christopher David Roberts

Note: If you are new to Logical Monkey, I recommend starting at episode 1 to get the best out of the story.

I've provided an audio version below for those that would prefer to listen ...

Maya Gohil drives her fist into the punch bag with incredible force. For a small woman, she is fearsome. Her rage is something to behold. Her black hair is tied back and her forehead is shiny with perspiration. She is wearing a light grey tank top and black shorts. Black sparing gloves cover her hands, which she repeatedly drives into the punchbag, hanging from her garage roof by a chain. The thick packing sounds of leather gloves on the bag can barely be heard over the music blaring out of an old sound system: Rage Against The Machine. Her teeth are gritted and bared like a wild animal and her eyes are focused and determined. With every strike, a hiss of breath escapes through her clenched teeth, like a spitting snake. She dances around the bag, striking from different angles, simulating how she’d move in real combat.

In her mind, she isn’t in the garage. She is back at the station driving her fists into Chief Inspector Campbell. Beating him with every ounce of her strength, driven by her anger and frustration. Now, she is in the carpark outside, doing something similar to Timothy Tittleworth and a number of other people who pissed her off today. She comes out to the garage whenever she has a bad day. That seems to be far too often of late. She has to let out these kinds of emotions or they build up in her, screw her up inside. Bad things happen when she loses control, and she would rather let out those kinds of emotions here. She learned that lesson long ago.

Why did Campbell intervene in her investigation? Why did he insist on releasing Tittleworth? Something wasn’t right here. He told her Tittleworth was a person of special interest, that he was working on something important and couldn’t have his cover blown. That was total bullshit! She knew it and she said as much, but Campbell is her superior and she knows better than to go up against him openly. Better officers than she had been sacked for less. There is something off with Campbell, something stinks. The worst thing about it all is that she knows Tittleworth is involved in whatever is going on in Solihull. She knows he’s involved and she has no other leads to go on at the moment. She just needs to find a new angle, that’s all. Something strong enough that Campbell can’t step in and rescue him.

Gohil changes her striking pattern and begins driving her elbows into the bag. More power. More damage.

There have been so many reports of unusual activities in the area over the last month it was hard to keep up. Complaints of sexual assault and aggressive behavior have doubled. Reports of road rage incidents, smashed-up cars and crude graffiti have also increased. Dicks had been burned into the grass at local golf clubs using petrol. A dog’s arse had been superglued shut because its owner failed to bag up and dispose of its shit. Sometimes these incidents were silly and not that serious unless they’d been done to you, but there was a general undercurrent of something bigger or nastier building. Something sinister. She didn’t like it.

Several of these incidents had been linked to a man matching Tittleworth’s description. A smashed-up car, reportedly carried out by a psychotic taxi driver.  An unprovoked assault on a woman at a coffee shop. Clear descriptions that couldn’t be anyone else but him. They had footage too. Undeniable evidence. His appearance and style were unique after all. The bloody idiot was his own worst enemy. If you’re going to go around carrying out crimes like that, at least try and blend into the crowd.

That is just the silly stuff.

Field-fulls of sheep have been slaughtered by some sort of unknown animal. Children keep disappearing off the streets with zero trace and no leads, even in areas where CCTV technology is in place. All that has been found of any of them is a child’s leg floating in the Grand Union Canal. A local priest was attacked by a man claiming he’d been interfered with as a child. A wine bottle had been inserted somewhere unpleasant and then shattered, whilst inside, with a hammer and chisel. Horrific things! Brutal things. People seemed to be going crazy.

And then to top it all off, Planet Ice. She’d seen some murders in her time, but that was something else. The massive amount of flesh making up his back had been torn right down the middle as if unzipped. She’d been able to see the white of his spinal cord when she stepped into the forensic tent. The man’s face was pure white, being dead and all. And his mouth was opened about as wide as it could possibly go without the jaw breaking. Whatever ripped into that mammoth made her blood run cold. The CCTV covering the carpark was offline that evening for no explicable reason. The multiple statements and reports coming in from the public, and witnesses who were in the carpark at the time, are filled with ridiculous accounts of some sort of beast seen charging about the streets.  Some people have suggested it was a werewolf. She laughed when she first heard that suggestion, but she’d checked and it had been a full moon. That made her think of the field of sheep the month before. Again, she checked. It was a full moon then too.

So many questions. Not enough answers. The victim was not known to them. He had no ID on him, and they were still trying to confirm who he was. Judging from the amount of Class A Candy in his massive pockets, he was a dealer of some sort. It wouldn’t be long before they got an ID and when they did they’d be able to start digging properly, and there would be some answers for sure. One thing she does know, Tittleworth is somehow involved in it all. She’s going to prove it. She’s going to get to the bottom of it and she’s going to put an end to him.

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