Moondog and the Reed Leopard

by Neil Mach

  ‘Yeah,’ Hopie agreed with a nod and a smile ‘He does that. So, you plant vegetables? ‘

  ‘Mmm... I grow fruit, herbs, and flowers.’

  Hopie looked around the place and took in the splendour. The house must be worth a million dollars, she thought. ‘Why do you need to grow food? It does not look like —’

  ‘Mainly for health...’ Val answered quickly. My fruit and vegetables are organic, and I know they are free from chemicals and watered by rain, warmed by the sun. I also get exercise when I’m working on the land, and I find inner peace in the open air...’

  ‘I had never thought of all —’

  Moondog shuffled into the room in his socks, head tilted to one side, with a small smile that formed because he guessed they talked about him. ‘Are you two getting on?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ replied Victorina. ‘Your companion is a pleasant and attractive young lady.’

  ‘She’s smart and wise too...’ Moondog added.

  ‘Really, do you think so?’ yelped Hopie, excited by his complement — some delicious little pulses shook across her body. ‘He’s just saying that. Though, I can be a right little nuisance to him, can’t I?’ Victorina’s lips parted as she became aware of their close connection. She gave Hopie a wink.

  ‘Is it too much if we might get victuals now? asked Moondog. ‘Only we have not had a bite all day.’

  ‘It would be a privilege to serve you. Shall we eat in the main room or from a plate here?’

  Both Moondog and Hopie scanned the magnificent room with ever-widening eyes. Moondog glanced at Hopie and saw she experienced the same kind of wonder that he did, so he said, ‘Actually if it’s all the same to you Missus Victorina, would it put you out terribly if I asked to eat in the kitchen? I hope you don’t mind, but I believe we’d be cozier there. I think I speak for Hopie.’

  ‘Yes,’ Hopie agreed. ‘I would feel more comfortable in the kitchen.’

  ‘If that’s what you both prefer, then that’s where we shall eat,’ Victorina said, giving a snappy nod. ‘Please come this way...’ She led them through the house.

  Her kitchen was no-less amazing than the other rooms in the show-house. It had a grey-tiled floor, a dozen units painted powder blue and six rattan barstools placed around an orange glass counter, held tall with chromium legs. The whole place emitted fluorescence. ‘While I get things going and prepare green tea, you can tell me what you are up to. I will work as I listen...’ she said.

  ‘Very well,’ Moondog replied. ‘I started my day with spiritual and physical exercises. Then I received a phone call from my assistant in London. I went to see fowl and fauna on the pond behind the pastoral house; then I joined Hopie to drink water at Mountsorrel Lane. Afterwards, we visited Mister Tony Marr.’

  ‘My-oh-my, today’s been hectic for you, hasn’t it? So many things to ask...’ Victorina filled a stone-ware pot with hot water then found a set of glasses with little silver handles. ‘I didn’t know you were acquainted with Tony Marr?’

  ‘I didn’t know him till today. Are you familiar with him?’

  ‘He comes to our allotments frequently. He buys veggies from many of the plot holders. As you can imagine, he’s very popular. Adair Bradigan, the one I told you about who runs the biodynamic plot at Charley Hall allotments, he sells Mister Marr lots of stuff. Mostly rye. But also, some herbs.’

  ‘Rye?’

  ‘Yes, and a few herbs.’

  ‘What herbs are harvested this time of year?’

  ‘Well, none. But Adair specializes in growing ancient herbs in a glass-frame. Some of his older varieties grow over winter. His rows of cereal are dormant during the hungry gap, of course. But he has other pulses in frames, even now.’

  Hopie was interested in how they chit-chatted in such a colourful way about gardening as if they were old friends. She became even more fascinated by the wide variety of interesting foodstuffs that Victorina presented in geometrical, technicolour dishes. Her tableware was surprising in appearance. Victorina saw her gaze and commented, ‘I make all the crockery myself. I throw it and bake it at the old Mount St Bernard’s Kiln. I use clay I dig myself too... And I even use pigments and dyes that I harvest on the allotment.’

  ‘For real?’ Hopie was genuinely amazed. ‘I did not think, uh, that ordinary people made plates and bowls. I thought they came from shops and factories.’

  ‘Folk have made clay-ware for thousands of years. I do not call myself a potter, but my hobby gives great satisfaction. I like to make all my own things...’

  ‘Missus Victorina is a talented blacksmith as well. She has a smithy in the back. She also makes her clothes, furnishings, cabinets, and even soaps and candles. ‘

  ‘I try my best.’

  Victorina placed small, crunchy, pies onto a plate with hand cut vegetables and dollops of red chutney. Hopie, who watched intently and felt hypnotized by Victorina’s nimble fingers as she arranged foods onto pretty plates. She opened her mouth in wonder as the woman cut into a beetroot and whittled the vegetable into the shape of a rose.

  ‘That’s amazing...’ she offered.

  ‘You were saying you start the day with spiritual exercises?’ Victorina said as she bent down to pull a tray of spicy biscuits from the bottom half of the oven. ‘Do you ever use crystal-healing or wish-fulfilling stones?’

  ‘Like me, Missus Victorina is interested in New Age methodologies,’ Moondog clarified to Hopie, as he stretched a hand over his curls in a display of false modesty. ‘That’s how we hit it off in the first place.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘And to answer your enquiry, Missus Victorina no, I do not. Stones and crystals don’t work for me. Have you found they help your mood or concentration as you pray?’

  ‘I don’t know, Moondog…’ Victorina admitted, as she poured the tea. There’s no science in it. Just faith...’

  ‘When we open our hearts to possibilities, we open our world to hidden light,’ Moondog said. Victorina nodded.

  ‘Why do you do it? You two? You know, why do you pray?’ Hopie searched Moondog’s eyes. ‘I’ve never prayed in my life; I don’t believe a word of all that junk. Why do people bother with it? It’s not like we’re living in fear of God anymore. Those times are long gone. It’s medieval. Isn’t praying like putting a letter up the chimney for Santa Claus? Isn’t it a bit, er, childish?’

  ‘We do not necessarily pray to ask for things, Hopie, although prayer can be done that way. We generally pray because it brings us inner peace. Prayer connects us to our spiritual selves,’ Moondog explained.

  ‘Sounds like claptrap...’ Hopie offered. Victorina shot her a look of disapproval, then squinted at Moondog who merely smiled.

  ‘Recognizing that everything is connected is the first step on the path to conscious living...’ he muttered.

  ‘Did Buddha say that?’ asked Victorina.

  ‘No, I just did…’ replied Moondog. ‘I’m happy to allow Buddha the distinction if you’d prefer.’ Both ‘adults’ laughed at his ‘gag’ while Hopie didn’t get it at all. She felt totally out of her depth in their company. They made her feel clumsy and immature. She bit into a chunk of her cheek as they continued to giggle.

  Soon the meal was ready to eat, so they tucked in greedily. Victorina remained standing so she could supervise, pushing dishes forwards and replacing them with more delicacies.

  ‘We need to find a mojo bag,’ Moondog said, once he had stuffed a spicy tartlet into his mouth. He made soft, cooing noises to express delight at the crunchy bitterness.

  ‘Where would one look for a mojo bag, can you give me a clue?’ asked Victorina.

  ‘Well, I think we’re seeking someone in this area who has roots in Africa or the Caribbean. Someone obsessed with homeopathic magic.’

  ‘We don’t have many Africans hereabouts. The only person who vaguely fits the bill is Stephen Ruis. But he’s certainly not African. He is very, very white. ‘

  ‘Why does he fit the bill?’ Moondog asked.

/>   ‘Don’t you know our Stephen? Everyone around the town calls him the Voodoo Vet... he’s a bit eccentric.’

  The Ram

  The next morning, at work, Hopie managed to get the attention of Sergeant Moyes. ‘Can we meet in the normal place? Do you wanna bring your briefcase?’

  He didn’t know what she meant by those things so started to raise bushy eyebrows...

  ‘I need to give you something...’ she clarified

  ‘Oh yes, of course. I’m sorry, Hopie, I am miles away.’ The Sarge stood and turned his attention to the other Admin assistant, ‘Excuse us, we must discuss something in the hallway.’

  Sarah-Jane gave them both a squinty-eyed look: ‘Whatever,’ she said. ‘Don't mind me.’

  *

  Outside the office door, Hopie carefully lifted Moondog’s glass from her washbag. She handed it to the Sergeant, still wrapped in the original paper napkins she’d taken from the teahouse.

  ‘Excellent work, young lady. Was it difficult to get?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘And does the glass have his prints all over it?’

  ‘Yes. He took a drink from it.’

  ‘It looks sparkly clean,’ Sergeant Moyes said as he held it to the light. ‘You sure it has prints on it?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure. But I should tell you this... you are wasting your time getting them analyzed. He doesn’t have a police record. Never has. He’s never been in trouble...’

  ‘Did Mister Moon Dog tell you that himself?’

  ‘Yes, and I believe him.’

  ‘You poor sweet innocent thing...’

  ‘What will you do if the fingerprints come back no trace?’

  ‘They won’t...’

  ‘But what if they do?’

  ‘I had not considered that possibility. I guess I’ll have to find something else that will discredit Mister Moon Dog.’

  ‘Good luck with that,’ she said. She gave her sergeant a doubtful look.

  *

  Before lunch, when Sergeant Moyes disappeared, presumably to take the glass to the Crime Scenes people, Hopie found free time to chat with Sarah-Jane about the previous day’s events. ‘Between you and me,’ she told her. ‘I spent more quality time with Moondog yesterday afternoon. We went to eat at the luxurious home of a posh lady. He was a real gentleman. He walked me home, after.’

  ‘Did he give you a kiss and a grope?’

  ‘No of course not...’ Hopie said. She waved her hand around as if she wanted to swat away an invisible moth. ‘He’s not that kind of guy.’

  ‘In that case, I see why you described him as a gentleman...’

  ‘Do you think he should… you know?’ Hopie felt her ears boil even as she began the question, ‘Do you think he should get, you know, fizzy with me? More physical, like?’

  ‘Most men do, don’t they? A week or so into things? My Rob wanted to drag my drawers off the moment he first saw me. He still does actually.’

  ‘Sarah-Jane!’

  Sara-Jane stared at her feet then her shoulders began to sag. Although she soon perked up, ‘My Rob is always hands-on. He likes to push and shove. Don’t they all? Rob thumps and pushes me around sometimes; well, they all do. Then he does things.’

  ‘Do you like that?’

  ‘Yes, of course. All the girls like it when a man plays rough, don’t they?’

  ‘I don’t. Anyway, I like to think Moondog isn’t that type. He’s considerate and nice.’

  Sarah-Jane went quiet again and this time gazed at her hands. Hopie could see little drops of sweat that had formed on her friend’s upper brow.

  ‘You okay babes?’ Hopie asked, her head tilted.

  ‘Oh yeah, I’m fine. I was thinking about your Mister Moon Dog.’ But the furrows on her forehead revealed she had other things on her mind. ‘I guess you’ll want nookie with your Moonie sooner or later, otherwise, he’s a no-hoper, isn’t he?’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘Oh, yes. My best advice is you should chuck him if he doesn’t try to get his leg over any time soon. If he doesn’t get affectionate and jiggly the next time you see him, he’s a no hoper...’

  ‘That’s vulgar.’

  ‘Getting jiggly isn’t vulgar, young lady. Quite the opposite. It’s natural. You should get him to stick —’

  Fortunately, at that moment, Sergeant Moyes burst into the room and looked pleased with himself. ‘A moment of your time, outside, please Hopie,’ he announced.

  Hopie left the office but not before she gave her friend a scowl.

  In the corridor, the Sarge returned the glass. It was now sealed in a plastic exhibit envelope. ‘Here it is, the scientist dusted it and said there were loads of prints on it. Which is good news, yeah? We sent the prints for analysis. You can return the thing to the Teahouse whenever you want. ‘

  ‘When do we get the results?’

  ‘Very soon, maybe in four or five days... Maybe. And thanks for this I will not forget you did me a big favour. You can take the rest of the day off.’

  ‘May I?’

  ‘Yes, take the glass back. Then have the afternoon off. I will cover for you. It’s the least I can do...’

  ‘But you still owe me. This isn’t a re-payment, so that you know. Don’t forget that.’

  ‘Yes, I still owe you. Today is a little treat.’

  *

  Once back in the office, Hopie tried to tell Sarah-Jane, using body language, and using a telepathic gift she did not actually possess to send the message that the Sergeant was about to let her go home.

  Her friend eyed her suspiciously, and when Hopie realized that her thought transference wasn’t working, she decided on a more reliable strategy. She started sorting through her things with lots of bangs, then gave several big sighs, and finally, she shuffled her feet loudly.

  Eventually, Sarah-Jane got the hint. ‘Are you going home early or something?’

  ‘Um, yes. The Sergeant wants me to do an errand. ‘

  ‘What time will you get back? There are stacks of things to do here. You two are never around these days, always gallivanting. I’m getting sick of it. To be honest. You are in the corridor most of the time indulging in secrets. You are leaving me out. I’ve almost had enough…’

  *

  Before she left for the day, Hopie poked her head into the Chief's office.

  ‘Hello, sir. Just popping up to say hi.’ She gave a jolly smile and a petite wave.

  The senior policeman raised his eyebrows to see who dared bother him at his desk, then gradually focused his eyes on Hopie who stood by the edge of his door.

  ‘Hello, little one. Come in, come in. Shut the door behind you.’

  ‘Thanks, I shouldn’t disturb you, I know...’

  ‘Yes, I’m very busy, very busy. How are you, girl? I know our paths don’t cross much, but you’re always on my mind. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, of course. I told my Mom the other night when I called her, I told her that you’re taking good care of me...’

  ‘How is your mother?’

  ‘Fine, she’s fine.’

  Hopie ran her fingers through the folds of her skirt, sighed briefly then bit her lower lip. Silence yawned in the office.

  ‘So, what brings you here, Hopie? Something on your mind?’

  ‘Yes. It’s to do with the supernatural investigator that we’ve brought in...’ She moved her fingernails quickly, checking the condition of the varnish.

  ‘Oh, yes. I wanted to talk to you about him. He’s on my mind. I’d prefer it if —’

  ‘Moondog is meeting a shady character today as part of his ongoing enquiry. This bloke is a disgusting piece of work, by the sound of it. I’m wondering if you could do an intelligence check on the guy that he’ll see. To try to find out, for me, try to find out if this chap has any warning signs that Moondog ought to know about.’

  ‘Well no, of course not. I can’t do that. That’s inappropriate. Also, a violation of the codes of practice, and I —�
��

  ‘So, is it not a breach of some code to bring a stranger into the borough to investigate your hallucination? ‘

  ‘It wasn’t a hallucination, my girl. You know it wasn’t. I have been totally honest with you. I saw an apparition. And anyway, that story was given in the strictest confidence.’

  ‘Apparition, manifestation, hallucination... it all amounts to the same thing doesn’t it? You invited a private investigator into the borough because you knew no sensible police detective would take your story seriously. Though you guessed that some madcap TV sleuth might. Isn’t that the truth? If people discovered what you had done, they’d say you were a zany old man with an uncontrollable imagination. And that would bring early retirement, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Hope, why are you saying such things? What did I do to annoy you? I’ve taken care of you behind the scenes, haven’t I?’

  ‘Yes, you have. That’s why I’m asking for this tiny favour. Would you please run a check on the individual that Moondog is meeting today? Just to see if there are any warning signs. The man he’s meeting is a bloke called Woo Hoo Ram. First name Whisky Oscar Oscar, second name Hotel Oscar Oscar... normal spelling of Ram.’

  ‘Do you have a date of birth?’ asked the boss, logging into the system and executing a name check. ‘I hope it’s not a common name...’ He frowned as he read the screen then crossed and uncrossed his legs. Finally, he tapped in more information and gazed directly at Hopie. ‘Look, I’m not happy about this. I should have extricated you earlier from the enquiry while I had the chance. I should have set things out clearer — about your participation. In fact, I should never have involved you in the first place. It was foolish of me. But I do not want you to run into any more danger, so that’s why I’m pulling the plug —’

  ‘What does the computer say?’ she intervened. ‘Does the individual have warning signs?’

  ‘You know I cannot tell you anything, Hopie. I must insist you give all this up. Its police work, and it’s not for you. If your Sergeant asks you to do something more, anything, then you must tell him firmly no —?’