Curious Campers

by Anne Lown

  “So, what’s this about aliens?” Les flitted his gaze from one to the other of the men at the bar.

  Nick, who’d been quiet up until this point, couldn’t wait to fill him in. “Pete got scared off by a couple of aliens down in the woods. That’s how he found the body. Ran like a chicken, he did, straight into it.” The smile on Nick’s face was matched in opposition by the horror on Pete’s.

  “That’s not true,” he protested.

  “Which bit?” Nick asked. “You getting laid or running naked into a dead body?”

  Pete grimaced and stayed seated while the rest put their jackets on. He turned towards the bar and leant on it with his forearms. The man stared into what was left of his pint and didn’t reply when his name was called. He clearly had no interest in leaving with the rest of them.

  “Crikey,” Nick said, “cold enough to freeze your nuts off.”

  “Yeah, sure, that’s if you have any in the first place.” Harvey tried to cheer up. There was no point letting that woman ruin his life. He strode down the street with his friends, Nick having been over before and the only person he didn’t mind near his property. He was a real nerd, researching the details and reciting them at break times over coffee.

  Harvey checked his front door for damage. It was something he’d taken to doing since he’d come back from abroad and found it jimmied. Satisfied it hadn’t been tampered with, he led the way inside and into the living room. He opened the sideboard where he kept his latest purchase, a beautifully crafted piece and his current pride and joy. He lifted the box lid and held it out.

  Nick’s eyes lit up. He reached out his hands, his fingers wiggling and getting closer to the knife. Harvey laughed. He couldn’t make the man wait too long or he’d never hear the end of it. He released the item into the other man’s grasp and watched him coo over it.

  “So, where’s the rest?” Les was scanning the room.

  “This way.” Harvey left Nick holding his treasure and walked over to the dining room door. He kept it closed in case of unexpected visitors. That way he didn’t have to have any difficult conversations. With a swift movement, he swung the door open and allowed Les to go in first.

  “Wow,” Les said upon seeing the trophies on his wall.

  Each piece was displayed to show off the width of its blade, making it easy to see what they could do to injure a foe. It was an impressive exhibit, one Harvey was rightly proud of.

  “You like?” Nick came in behind them and appeared eager to join in the conversation. He walked over to the wall and started to point out where each one came from, reading the info from the labels beneath them. “Hey, Harvey, you’ve got one missing.”

  “Yeah, I know. Someone took it while I was away, the bastard.” He sneered.

  “No, not that one,” Nick said, “you’ve lost another one.” He pointed to the space where the knife had been only last week.

  “What?” Harvey pushed in front of his friends to get a better look. Sure enough, the knife was missing.

  How the hell did they get in?

  Les turned to face him. “Do you know which one it was?”

  “Yeah, a hunting knife, again.”

  Why only take one at a time?

  Nick interrupted his thoughts. “Do we know if the police found a knife with the dead body? Pete said his neck was cut.”

  “You’re not suggesting someone’s breaking in here to steal knives to kill people, are you? That’s absurd.”

  “Maybe someone’s got it in for you. Got any enemies?”

  Harvey sighed. His friend was in full swing. He was thinking conspiracies—that was something else he loved researching. “No, it’s probably someone selling them online for some quick cash.”

  He sat at the table over by the wall, wondering what to do about it. He could hardly report it to the police; they’d be too interested in the rest of them. The evening had been ruined after all, even without Colette’s help. The other two got the hint and left soon after. When enough time had passed, he slipped his jacket back on and added a wool hat. He took a torch from the kitchen cupboard and snuck out into the night. Someone might’ve taken his knives, but he was determined to get them back.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dan held the torch over the piece of paper they’d taken from the dead body. It illuminated the hand drawing of part of an ordinance survey map for the area they were in. He’d been studying it since Saturday night and tried to pinpoint similarities to the real thing. The location marked seemed familiar, but he couldn’t be sure because those maps were already out of date by the time they’d been published. Being a keen hill walker and camper, he knew something about terrain and hoped it’d be enough to identify the spot.

  “You done yet? I’m freezing my bollocks off.” Shane shivered.

  “That could only happen if you had any to begin with.”

  It would’ve helped if his friend had worn more layers like he’d told him to. Dan reached behind the front passenger seat of his car, pulled out a spare hoodie, and gave it to him. “You ready?”

  They left the car out of sight of the main road and cut across the field nearest the woods where they’d been camping. They were going to start from the murder site and work outwards from there. Somehow that felt like the place to begin, and knowing where they were going, Shane had made sure he’d smoked a couple of spliffs before they’d set out.

  In amongst the trees, Dan stopped to listen. Now a life had been taken, he trod with more caution than he usually would. The eerie atmosphere set his nerves on edge, making him aware of all the sounds of the night. Those were not the problem, it was the unusual ones he was trying to notice.

  He’d turned the torch to red light so he wouldn’t ruin his eyes. It slowed their progress, but they didn’t want to go trampling in and come across someone else hanging about in the dark. That would be a big mistake, maybe even the one the dealer had made.

  Once at the clearing, moonlight from the open sky gave them some respite from the dark. Dan stood on the edge, just far enough in so he could survey the area without being seen. When nothing moved, they skirted the border like they’d done before.

  The murder site was easier to find this time. All evidence of the snare had been taken away, and other than police tape, it didn’t seem as if anything so terrible could’ve happened there. Dan took the piece of paper out of his pocket and shone the torch on it. He peered at the drawing and oriented his body in line with what he remembered of the lay of the land.

  “I think it’s this way,” he said, indicating the direction with the light so Shane could understand what he meant. Dan was about to walk on but stopped because he had an odd feeling. “I think there’s someone here,” he whispered.

  “Are you sure?”

  “No, it’s just a feeling. Let’s go.”

  He led the way on the new trail, fighting an urge to wander off in a different direction just in case his gut feeling was right, and someone was indeed hiding in the trees. At one point they stopped to reestablish their bearings. He was sure he’d heard someone inhale, and it wasn’t Shane’s nasal breathing behind him. The hairs lifted on the back of his neck.

  I’m sure there’s someone there.

  The military knew if you stared at someone in the dark, that person could pick the presence up with their senses, and that was why he didn’t gaze about. The rustle of bushes from time to time had also given it away. It’d happened while there were no gusts through the branches, but he’d pretended not to notice. They could easily give up and come back later, but whatever the map led to could be gone by then. He was sure it’d been left for someone specific to find. The police probably, and he was determined to find out why.

  Shane tapped Dan on the shoulder. “Are we nearly there yet?”

  “Almost,” Dan said. They’d stopped so he could look at the map, but something else caught his attention. He crouched and beamed the light on the ground. There was a footprint going the opposite way pressed into the dirt. Da
n tentatively placed his fingers on the rim of the print. The soil was slightly softer than the rest around it. “This print’s fresh. Someone’s only just been here.”

  He glanced up; they had to be close. He shone the torch forward, the light barely reaching out in front. It was enough for him to recognise a group of trees. Their combination was the giveaway, and the burial site marked with an X lay in the middle of them. Now on his knees, he leant in and brushed the dirt and foliage aside.

  “Come see this,” Dan said, shifting over to make room for his friend and illuminating the find.

  Shane reached between the trees and picked up a cloth bundle. He lay it on the ground and carefully unwrapped it. In the red light it appeared to be an ornate knife, but that wasn’t the only thing they noticed.

  “Is that blood on the blade?”

  Dan nodded even though it was dark. “Yep, I think we just found the murder weapon.”

  Shane reached his fingers out to touch the handle, but Dan slapped them away.

  “Don’t touch,” he said. “It’s going to have DNA on it. We’ll have to give it to the police.”

  “That’s not fair, we found it. If we kept it, who’s to know?”

  “You can’t do that, it’s part of the investigation.”

  “Just for a little while, please?” Shane rewrapped the knife and held the cloth bundle close to his chest.

  “You’re mad. It’s not X-Files, this is real.”

  “I just want to have a good look, that’s all.”

  Dan was torn. He, too, wanted to see it in a proper light. At least it wasn’t their snare that’d killed the dealer. Even if he was dying because he’d been caught up in it, the fact someone else had come along and slit his throat let them off the hook. They hadn’t killed him because he’d died by someone else’s hand.

  He stood, ready to go back to the car. “Let’s go,” he said. “I’ve got work in the morning.”

  “So have I,” Shane responded.

  “Yeah, but you don’t start at five a.m., do you?”

  The whole time, Dan had been aware they were still being watched. They set off back the way they’d come, and again he pretended not to notice the extra presence. He was more concerned with getting them safely out of there. If it was the murderer hanging about, then this was some messed-up shit.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jenny had been home a while when a gentle rap sounded on the front door. She was tucked under a blanket on the sofa with the TV volume on low. She moved the cover aside, and a shiver ran over her skin. The room felt cold. She drew her arms close to her chest with her hands in fists under her chin. Her tightened leg muscles forced her to pigeon step into the hallway where she swung open the door. DS George was waiting on the doorstep, minus one Colette.

  “Come in,” she said, moving out of the way and closing the door behind him.

  George walked into the living room and stood in the middle of the floor. “You said you had something for me?”

  Jenny noticed the impatience in his voice. She grabbed the balled-up tissue she’d left on the coffee table and handed it to him. “I found a few more of these yesterday, but someone took them off me. Luckily, I was able to hang on to this one. I thought it might be useful.”

  “What’s this?” George carefully opened the tissue and held the contents up to the light. One small cigarette butt lay in the middle and didn’t look like anything unusual.

  “It’s a butt from the clearing in the woods, or rather, from just inside the trees near the clearing. Jason and I went down there, and I found it on the ground.”

  “I can assure you we did a thorough sweep of that area on the night.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Jenny said. “They were there after you’d been, so I thought it might be significant. Someone was hanging around there, and this proves it. They might know or have seen something of value.”

  George’s gaze moved from his hand to Jenny’s face. He pursed his lips, giving him a pinched expression. She cringed in return, feeling like a naughty child.

  “You really shouldn’t be gallivanting about in the woods,” he said. “It could be dangerous, and especially with what went on there.”

  “Yes, I know, that’s why I thought you should have it. The DNA on the butt might identify who was there and maybe link them to the crime.” Jenny’s voice raised slightly as she spoke. She opened her mouth to say something about it being an obvious leap to make but thought better of it. She was supposed to be helping Scott, not that she thought he deserved it.

  “You said someone took them off you?”

  “When we left the wood, two men followed us. One attacked Jason, and the other ran after me, knocking me down. He grabbed at my clothes, until I realised what he wanted, so I gave him the butts. One must’ve fallen out of the tissue. Then they ran off.”

  “Why didn’t you report this?”

  Jenny crossed her arms. She hadn’t expected him to be so hostile. “I wanted to give it to you, I just didn’t expect it to take so long to do so.”

  George rewrapped the tissue and placed it in his pocket. “You said Jason was with you? Do you think either of you could describe the attackers to a sketch artist?”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure, it all happened so fast.”

  She was feeling less inclined to be helpful, but it didn’t matter anyway. George pivoted on the spot and marched towards the front door without even saying goodbye. Jenny let him go. For doing a good deed, she certainly felt like she’d been sitting on the naughty step for her trouble.

  Jenny walked into the kitchen and picked up the kettle. She stood at the sink ruminating over the conversation she’d just had and repeating parts of it in a mocking tone.

  How dare he make me out to be an idiot.

  She clenched her jaw as she filled the kettle, the water splashing on the rim and spraying onto the windowsill. On turning off the tap, she glanced at the mess she’d made, and that was when she saw it.

  A face appeared on the other side of the window. She flinched and let go of the kettle. It clanged, hitting the bottom of the sink. Jenny drew her hands up to her mouth, while her eyes widened. She was about to scream until she realised who it was. She flitted her gaze to the back door handle. It rattled from the person grabbing it on the other side. Turning the key, she freed the lock and swung the door open. Scott stood on the threshold. He was in a similar mess to the previous time she’d seen him.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Jenny was more annoyed than shocked to see him in such a state. “I thought you’re supposed to be at work.”

  “Got the week off, annual leave. You gonna let me in?”

  Jenny stepped back, allowing room for her ‘guest’ to enter. She shook her head at his dishevelled appearance, then went to the sink to retrieve her kettle. “Want a coffee?”

  “Haven’t you got anything stronger?”

  “In the fridge.”

  Scott took out a new bottle of wine and cracked the seal. He poured the cold liquid into the two glasses she’d placed on the worksurface and then drained his in one go before filling it again.

  Jenny leant her hip against the same countertop and picked up her own glass, sipping it slowly. “You going to tell me where you were Saturday night and why the police thought you were involved?”

  He grimaced. “I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re asking. I had a fight, which you saw. It just makes me look suspicious.”

  “I wouldn’t have called that a fight, you both gave in too easily. It was obvious, even to the dealer.”

  “So if I didn’t want to fight him proper, then why would I kill him? I didn’t even know where he went.”

  Jenny walked into the living room and sat on the sofa. She couldn’t understand his reluctance to say where he was. Surely being proved innocent was more important that some stupid secret. “You’d rather go to prison for something you didn’t do than provide an alibi to prove your innocence? Are you mad?”

  Sco
tt sighed. He’d followed her and sat in the single chair. “I won’t go to prison. Innocent people don’t go there.”

  “Oh yes they do. Men have been found to be innocent after years inside and only because someone was relentless in fighting for them. Who’s going to fight for you?”

  He didn’t bother to answer, but she wasn’t going to let him off the hook just yet.

  “Where were you tonight? How come you’re covered in dirt again?”

  He continued to ignore the questions.

  Unable to bear anymore, Jenny stood and went into the kitchen where she’d left her mobile on charge. She picked it up and speed dialled a number she’d not got around to deleting and waited for it to be answered. “Hey, Jason, can you come to mine right now. I’ve got Scott here, and we need to talk.”

  Scott appeared in the doorway. “What’re you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  She wiped off the kettle and filled it again. Once the coffee was made, she picked up the cups and carried them through to the other room, placing them on the coffee table. The two of them sat in silence until it was broken by a knock on the front door. Scott got up to answer it and then slunk back to the chair with Jason in tow.

  He sat on the opposite end of the sofa. “I’ve got a bit of news,” he said. “I bumped into Nick earlier. He’d been down the pub and went back to Harvey’s to see his new knife with that guy you were kissing on Saturday. It seems there’s a couple missing.”

  Jenny nearly dropped her cup. “What’s that got to do with the murder?”

  “Nick thinks the first disappeared when Harvey was away and might’ve been used to cut the dealer’s throat. He doesn’t know that for sure, but he thinks Harvey’s worried. Then tonight they found the second one gone.”

  Did that let Scott off the hook?

  She put her cup on the table so she wouldn’t end up wearing the last of her drink if there were any more bombshells. “What would someone want with the second knife?”