by steve higgs
The police took their sweet time in his words. However, they showed up eventually. Two of them in a squad car, a man and a woman. They took a statement but didn’t seem interested. When he found the footprint this morning, two different officers came. They seemed equally bored and detached, just going through the motions.
At that point, I interrupted to say, ‘I need to see the footprint. I want to get a cast of it.'
Kieron turned to look out the window. ‘It will get dark soon. It creeps up on us around here. We should go now.’ He stood and pushed back his chair. ‘Do you have a kit to make the cast?’
‘In my car.’
As we walked toward the door, the wives emerged from the kitchen again. Lara held four mugs of tea, two in each hand. ‘Where are you going?’ She demanded to know. ‘I just made tea. Because you bloody told me to.’ She snapped.
‘We won’t be a minute, love.’ Kieron said, his tone imploring her to stay calm. I slipped out the door as he went over to her. Making my way to my car I could hear a heated discussion coming from inside. Kieron was not doing well.
Directly across the yard from the farmhouse was the milking shed. It was very much the same design as the one at Glen's farm. To its left, was a field that now had crazy alien spotters hanging over its fence. Kieron caught up to Richard, Glen and me before we made it across the yard and led the way to the footprint.
‘Sorry about that.’ He said, referring to his wife’s outburst. ‘Late stages of pregnancy, everything’s hard now.’ No one said anything in reply.
The footprint was twice the size of mine and had been made by a boot, which is to say it was not the print of a bare foot. The boot though had three distinct toes, evenly spaced at the front and a fourth at the back. It was distinctly alien.
As I turned toward my car I said, ‘I'll get my kit.' From the fence, the alien spotters were calling out to let them see it. I wondered how they had heard about it in the first place. It was something I would need to ask.
The kit was something Tempest had at the office. It was plaster of paris in a measured quantity with the bottle that contained the correct amount of water required to make the powder into the gloop I required. It came with a disposable plastic beaker. I had watched forensics guys use the police-issue equivalent at crime scenes in the past but had never touched one myself. This was a cheap version, but it would do the trick.
By the time I got back to the guys, I had the mix in the beaker and ready to pour. It would only be enough for a thin layer as the footprint was so big. I just hoped it wouldn’t be so thin it broke when I took it out later.
While I poured the white mixture into the hole, I asked the chaps to begin telling me about the milk. Richard started by explaining how his farmhands had called him to his milking shed one morning. His milk was glowing. He had called Kieron and Glen over to his farm just so they could see it. It was so extraordinary. The milk was discarded. He was disappointed, but they thought nothing of it until it happened again the next day. Now it was a serious problem. They had called the older farm hands in and then they had called the local dairy cooperative administrator and then a representative from the farmer’s union and none of them had any explanation, even an outlandish one, for the softly glowing milk.
The milk had been ditched again and equipment cleaned again and the next day it had happened yet again. The day after that it was Glen’s milk as well and two days later all three of them were suffering.
Vets were called, the cattle inspected and given a clean bill of health. Their feed was discarded and replaced but nothing they did made any difference – the milk still came out of the cows with a luminescent green tinge.
‘I think we have to sell.’ Glen said when Richard finished speaking. He was almost begging the other two. ‘If we quit now, we will still get a fair price. Hang on much longer and we will be in so much debt the banks will already own us.’
It was Kieron that responded first. ‘I’m not moving, Glen. I’m not quitting. I have made a home here. Lara has a baby coming and this is where our little boy or girl will be raised.’
‘Not if you go bankrupt first.’ Glen snapped back.
Richard was trying to keep the peace. 'He has a point, Kieron. I know you don't want to sell. But we might have no choice soon. If we default on our loans, what then?'
We got onto talking finance, because, according to Richard, they were weeks from going bankrupt. We had walked back to the farmhouse and taken our seats again. The two pregnant wives drifted back to join us but mostly kept quiet, whether through disinterest or through the knowledge that their opinion was not wanted I couldn't tell. It had been cool out and I really quite fancied a hot cup of tea but I was damned if I was going to ask for one as the last round had gone cold before we returned.
While I listened and asked questions, I also noticed an odd dynamic at the table. The two wives had made a point of avoiding sitting near to Glen. Was it racism I was witnessing? Did they just want to not be near the bereaved man? Once I had noticed something was amiss, I couldn't help but see it. They wouldn't look at him, and when he asked a question or raised a point, neither one would engage with him. The husbands seemed unaware or oblivious. I kept my mouth shut and watched. Maybe it would be important later.
Maybe it was nothing.
The conversation reached a natural lull. It was Lara that filled the void. ‘Tell her about the lights.’
I looked around the table at their faces. ‘What lights?’
Alien Quest. Wednesday, November 9th 1637hrs
After two hours, the sun was dipping, and the farmers were anxious to get on with daily tasks they had been putting off. Richard had already made his excuses and left a few minutes ago when it became clear we were wrapping up. I had several pages of notes but no clue what to do with them. There were no obvious leads, but there were a few persons of interest I could talk to. At Kieron's begging, I was going to get straight on it. He was by far the keenest of the three to engage my services. It felt like the other two would have dismissed me if they could but didn't want to argue with Kieron. I believed them though when they claimed to be going bankrupt. Oddly, no one talked about the death of Glen's wife this morning as if they did not consider it to be connected.
I brought the subject up. ‘Do you wish me to include your wife's death as part of my investigation, Mr. Adongo?'
He was startled by the question. ‘I guess so.' He stammered as he looked at the others for support. Kieron placed a kindly hand on his arm.
‘I will do some research tonight and will be back in the morning. I need to question your staff.’
‘Why is that?’ Glen asked.
‘Because I need to rule out the very real possibility that this is an inside job. If someone is doing something to the cows, then they need to have access to them.’
‘Didn’t we just describe how it was aliens?’ Lara asked, her voice incredulous.
‘You did, but I’m afraid the likely explanation is something more terrestrial in nature.’
‘Why do we need a paranormal investigator then?’ She snapped back at me.
‘Because no one else will take the case.’ Kieron answered.
The final comment drew silence from everyone. I took that as my cue to leave.
As I left the table and Kieron walked me to the door, I could hear the wives muttering about being ripped off. They were not muttering quietly. Kieron's wife even accused him of falling for the pretty blonde's skinny arse.
I was glad to leave.
Outside it was already dark. The alien spotters were no longer visible by the fence, though I suspected they had only retreated as far as the tents I had spotted in the field across the road. It was only tea time, but evening was fast approaching, and it felt like time to go home and to see what James had found out this afternoon. Across the yard, I used my phone to light the way back to the footprint. The plaster had hardened already which allowed me to gingerly extract it from the mud without it breaking. In my bag,
I had some evidence bags. They were basically zip-lock bags, but they proved handy when I found something that might have a fingerprint, or in this case, was covered in mud and cow poop.
As I made my way to my car, a light caught my attention. It had flashed on and then immediately off again like someone flicking a torch button quickly.
It came from over by the milking shed. I stopped to stare where I had seen the light. There it was again and now I saw a person move in the dark shadows. Were they trying to get my attention?
I took a pace towards the milking shed but was stopped by the sudden appearance of a man that had a cameraman right behind him.
‘Hi. Jack Hammer, Alien Quest. Can I ask you a few questions about your job here?’ The man had thrust a microphone under my chin and was smiling at me in a way that was supposed to be engaging, I guess. He didn't wait for me to answer the first question though, he just pressed on with the next. ‘What it is that you do here? Dairymaid?'
I stepped into his personal space and pushed the microphone to one side. ‘I don’t work here.’
His smile held even as I pushed by him and on towards my car. ‘Goodness.’ He exclaimed, then, ‘Come on, Bob.’
He ran to get ahead of me with his cameraman and tried again. Once more the microphone was thrust towards me. ‘So, my lovely, if you don’t work here, what brings you to this remote and foreboding farm? Are you another alien hunter, like me?’
This time I stopped. ‘Look, I don’t know who you are, and I have no desire to find out. I’m here as a private investigator hired by the farmers and I am leaving.’
‘Stop the camera, Bob.’ Before I could get away his whole demeanour changed, and he hit me with a look that could only be described as soul-searching. It made me wonder if he practised it. ‘I’m an investigator too.’ He said softly. ‘There are alien creatures visiting this place and I fear for the families. Will you help me?’
I had to pause and look at him. He sounded so sincere, so honest. He reached back to give Bob the microphone then extended his right hand to me. ‘Jack Hammer.’
I had little option other than to reciprocate. Anything else would have been extremely rude. ‘Amanda Harper.’ We shook hands.
‘Amanda Harper.’ He repeated my name and kept hold of my hand. ‘Amanda Harper.’
‘Yes, Amanda Harper. Can I have my hand back now please?’
He turned his head slightly to speak over his shoulder but did not take his eyes from mine. ‘Bob where do I know her name from?’
‘Works for Tempest Michaels.’
His eyes bulged at the news and his jaw hung slack. ‘You’re a paranormal investigator. Why didn’t you say?’
‘Nothing to tell.’ I replied, wondering how it was that I had come onto their radar.
‘Nothing to tell? You must be joking.’ He finally let go of my hand and switched his demeanour yet again, this time to serious. ‘Look, Amanda, I have been talking about having a co-host for my show for months now. You are the perfect fit for the role. You have credibility, you have presence.’ He looked me up and down as if appraising me. ‘I couldn’t come up with a better sidekick. Oh, Bob this is wonderful. Isn’t this wonderful, Bob?’
‘S’pose.’ Bob said.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Hammer. I already have a job.’
He barely even bumped from my rejection as he steamed straight towards signing contracts. ‘This is the chance of a lifetime for you. Don't blow this off without giving it some consideration. We had over two hundred thousand viewers last year.'
Two-hundred thousand? Not exactly a phenomenon.
‘I need to go.’
‘Really? You’re turning this down?’ I wondered if he meant the show or himself. ‘I could make you a star!’ I slid into my car, but he grabbed the door before I could close it. ‘Come on, darling. Your chest alone would get me an extra million viewers.’
I slammed the door shut, almost taking his head with it, then quite deliberately spun my wheel as I gunned the Mini’s engine to create a spray of cow shit that shot out the back of my car to pelt him as I escaped down the road and into the dark.
Whoever the figure by the milking shed was, there was no chance of speaking with them now. They would have to find me again later.
Phone Call to Mum. Wednesday, November 9th 1905hrs
Once home, I had emailed James to see what he had discovered, chopped some peppers and onions to make a stir fry for my dinner and elected to take a bath. The bath was the lazy option. I was supposed to be going to the gym since I had not bothered with it this morning, but I really didn't feel like it. I would go for a run in the morning. A good sleep would make me feel more motivated. Right now, I wanted to eat ice-cream on the sofa watching Ryan Gosling movies while telling myself I wasn't going to get left on the shelf. Seeing the yummy farmer and his pregnant wife had reminded of what was missing from my own life. I was twenty-nine and single. My most recent boyfriend had lasted no more than a handful of dates before fate threw a spanner in the works. But Brett had been the real thing for a few moments and that bothered me more than anything else.
Later, floating peacefully in the bath, I remembered I was supposed to call my mum. I had meant to call her a week ago. She was a worrier and I loved her, but she thought I was still a little girl and not able to take care of myself. It drove me nuts. A week ago, I was going to call to tell her about quitting the police force. She didn't like that I had chosen a career in uniform and had constantly sniped at it over the years. It didn't pay enough, it was unbecoming of a lady, I would never find a man if I kept arresting them. The last point had been tinged with irony a week ago as the man I was dating at that point was one I had arrested a week earlier. Brett Barker, a millionaire with a hot body and perfect manners.
Had I called then, I would have been able to deflect her questions about my new job with information about my boyfriend. It would have worked too, but now I would just have to suck it up.
After my bath, I was cooling down while wrapped inside a huge cotton towel. Another towel adorned my head and I had big socks on my feet to ensure they stayed warm. I would cook dinner after the call.
With a little resignation, I sat down and picked up my phone. I didn’t particularly want to, but I had news that she would complain I hadn’t shared with her if I left it until she returned. She would also complain that I hadn’t called her enough, despite the fact that she was on a cruise ship and thus could be anywhere and I had no idea what she was doing at any point, while she could reliably predict that her spinster daughter would be at home every evening unless I was working a shift. Now she knew I had quit the police though and would have a stack of questions to ask.
I settled into the corner of the sofa with my legs tucked under me and the phone on my lap. It was on speaker, leaving my hands free to cradle the hot cup of coffee I had just made.
What time was it on east coast America? Were we four hours ahead or five? Or was it more than that? I could never remember but it was late evening here so I felt sure it was late afternoon wherever she was.
‘Hello?’ Mum’s voice came onto the phone. She seemed surprised to have received a call and as if she was now wondering who it was even though I knew she had caller ID.
‘Hi, Mum. It’s Amanda.’
‘Oh, hello, Mandy.’ I hated when anyone called me Mandy. Only my mother got away with it. ‘How are you? Why the call?’
Had she had a stroke? Had I imagined this afternoon’s conversation?
‘We spoke just a couple of hours ago, mum. I told you I quit the police service. You thought I was a prostitute. Does that not ring any bells?’
‘Oh, yes. Yes, so you are not with the police anymore then?’
She sounded distracted. There was music playing in the background, something from the eighties.
‘No, mum. I work as a private investigator now. I investigate my own cases and bill my clients for the hours I work.’
‘That’s nice, dear.’
That’s n
ice, dear?
‘We specialise in paranormal cases, ones with an unexplained element or where the client believes they have a paranormal problem.’
‘How interesting.’
I could swear she wasn’t taking in anything I said. ‘The case I am investigating now involves aliens tampering with cows.’ All I got to that revelation was quiet at the end of the phone. I changed tack. ‘How’s your holiday going?’
‘Oh, well it’s lovely, darling. I should have done this years ago.’ At least that got you talking, I thought to myself. ‘John always takes such good care of me. We had dinner with the Captain just last night. I have eaten so much lobster on this trip. More in the last month than the previous fifty years.’
‘That sounds nice, mum.' I let her prattle on for a while. She had lots to tell me about where they had been and what they had done and about how John was the on-board Quoits champion. I didn't know what Quoits was, but I also didn't ask for fear she might explain it.
Suddenly, she sensed that she had been speaking uninterrupted for many minutes. ‘Goodness, listen to me go on. How are you, dear? What are you up to? Is there a new man in your life?' I was exasperated that she was asking me questions when I had been trying to tell her the answers already. Her last question though was dragged out to demonstrate her hope that the answer might be positive.
I figured I might as well just talk to her about what she wanted to talk about. ‘No new man, I’m afraid, mum.’
No reply.
I could hear her giggling at something, her voice muffled like she was putting her hand over the phone. ‘Well, I did have a boyfriend briefly, but he saw me with someone else so dumped me and went to Coast Rica and I was kidnapped last week and stripped naked so I could be sacrificed by a voodoo priest.’