Farm Kill

by Robert W Fisk

  "Just the usual," Sally replied. "I can't get moving. I've got so much to do, but I just can't get started."

  "Come and have a coffee with me at my place," said Georgina. "After we get the mail."

  "Can't. I left Lance playing with his bulldozer on the floor. He just keeps moving it backwards and forwards. Vroom. Vroom. He should be okay for a short time, but you never know, do you." Sally sounded sad and harassed. Georgina quickly did a visual check for signs of violence, but there were none.

  After the mail car arrived, Georgina went back up her driveway and Sally went to her home. When Sally arrived, Lance was still pushing his bulldozer back and forth.

  "Oh, my dear child," she said. "What am I going to do with you?"

  There was no response. It was as if she hadn't spoken. She leaned over the little boy to give him a hug. Lance violently threw her arm off his shoulder. Sally sighed. She went and sat in her seat by the window from where she could see across the fields. She sat staring into space. There was the kitchen to tidy, floors to wash. Greg had started the washing machine earlier. There was still a build-up of dirty clothes. She would have to hang out this load and put another on. Later.

  Sally started the computer. Although only twenty kilometres from Grantville, the internet connection was still a dial-up. It was very slow, limiting what she could download. Sometimes she went with Georgina to the high school and used a computer there. She liked to look at the home pages of the cruise ship companies. Maybe one day she and Greg would go on one of the cruises. Maybe Lance would have changed by then. Sally sighed. Having an autistic child was hard work.

  2.

  When Sally got to the mailbox Georgina was already waiting.

  "I'm late," said Georgina without even a 'Hello'.

  "No, you were here first. I've just arrived," said Sally.

  "I mean I'm pregnant," said Georgina. "I've taken sick leave so I can go to the doctor today."

  "Congratulations, Georgina. I know how much this means to you," said Sally. "Does Philip know?"

  "I told him last night." Georgina replied. "He said 'That's great' but that's all he said. I don't think he is very thrilled. He can't do much about it, can he! Anyway, enough about me. How are you getting on?"

  "Life is never easy with a six year old," Sally answered. "Stir in Lance's autism and a husband you seldom see, and that's my life, take it or leave it."

  "Sally, you should see a doctor. You are getting lower and lower," said Georgina. "I hate to see you so depressed."

  "What can they do?" asked Sally. "Nothing. Never mind, it's probably just PMT. Greg's Mum thought I should have another baby. She thought that would bring me right. 'It's all in the hormones', she says. I'm scared in case a new baby turns out like the old one. Still, we're trying but nothing happens. I'm as regular as clockwork regardless."

  "Give me a hug and tell me how clever I am," said Georgina. I thought by my age I'd missed the boat. Can you put money in a trust account for an unborn baby?"

  Sally put her arms around Georgina. At that moment there was a cheerful toot as the mail car arrived.

  "Philip said he was coming into Grantville later today, and he'll bring me home," Georgina said as she got into the mail car. And that was the last time Sally saw her.

  BACK AT GRESHAM DOWNS, Philip Zinsli was digging Georgina's grave.

  Zinsli was livid. Georgina had given an undertaking not to have a baby. A descendant would upset Philip's plans. Although Georgina had made over a large part of her fortune to the joint account that she held with Philip, she was thinking of setting up a trust account for the baby. Zinsli was working on getting the rest of her money into the joint account. He still owed her for the upgrades he had made to his farm butchery business, a slaughterhouse, a refrigerated truck, a cold store and all the plumbing and electrical services that were requirements for his abattoir licence. That had come through. He was now fully licensed and need no longer be a 'midnight butcher'.

  Georgina had always been expendable. Philip would have liked her to hand over all of her money, but what she had put into their joint account would be more than enough for him to buy out Greg Somerville. The two farms combined would make a viable unit. Zinsli could put the river flats to use producing milk. There was a fortune in that. The hilly downlands would take as many MeatMaster sheep as Zinsli could manage. Zinsli had frequently approached Somerville about a merger or an outright purchase.

  Somerville was being very stubborn. Philip Zinsli was running a campaign to chase him off the land. Zinsli would go out at night and cut the fences. Somerville spent a lot of his time fixing them. He was a busy farmer, running some cattle and a herd of sheep. His neglect of his wife was making her depressed, according to Georgina. If Georgina wasn't there, he could take Somerville's wife from him, he was sure. He already rustled cattle and sheep, he cut water pipes so the precious fluid soaked into the dry earth and left the Somervilles low on water until Greg upgraded the jet which gave a greater flow from the Downlands Water Scheme and topped up Somerville's tanks.

  The last time Zinsli had made an offer, the two men ended up fighting. Greg accused Zinsli of cutting his fences, rustling, and cutting water lines. He had reported the vandalism to the police, which annoyed Zinsli. So the two men fought, not for the first time, and as usual the larger man won, as Zinsli had known he would. They had to live in the same valley so once again they reverted to a polite hello whenever they met.

  Georgina told him how young Lance, the idiot child, had got hold of Greg's rifle. One of Zinsli's best tricks had been to call Child Protection. As a result, Greg lost his guns and surrendered his firearms licence. It still did not make Greg sell out.

  Now Georgina was about to die, Zinsli thought he would have to lie low for a while. They would never find her body. The hole he was digging with his tractor and front loading bucket was on the side of a slope just below a grove of cabbage trees, the trees that Georgina admired so much. When he finished the hole, Zinsli would have to pack her bags as if she had run away.

  He would say that she had left with the mail car. He would have to square that away. He could ask his friend, John Hopgood, to say that she had called in to the Marriage Counselling Centre to make an appointment about separating from Philip, and had said she was going back to the farm with a farm advisor who had business in Te Kouka. John Hopgood could say that he had asked if she felt safe with Philip and that she had left after saying that Philip was not violent. It was the isolation of the farm and her pregnancy that were causing her to leave.

  The hole was finished. The soil was piled on the uphill side. No flood would uncover the body. It was time to meet Georgina and give her a ride home. He needed to see the manager at his bank. That would be his reason for being in town. John Hopgood would ensure the time of Georgina leaving the Mediation Centre and Philip's visit coincided, giving him an iron clad alibi.

  ZINSLI'S FIRST CALL was to a rental car agency, where he left his truck and hired a car. Next, he went to see his old friend, John Hopgood, who ran the mediation centre at the Family Court for couples who were separating. Georgina had no appointment with John Hopgood. It was make believe, a harmless story to indicate that all was not well in the marriage. With some hesitation, John agreed with Philip's plan, that Georgina was contemplating leaving Philip. It seemed innocuous enough, just an entry in his diary and a credible story to grant a favour to a friend.

  The next stop in Zinsli's busy day was to the bank. Philip was an important client so he was seen after a short delay. The Manager shook Philip's hand and asked the secretary to bring coffee. With two million dollars to invest, Philip knew he could string out the conversation for at least forty five minutes, time enough for John Hopgood to talk to Georgina and for Georgina to find a ride. Except it was all a sham. John Hopgood sat in his office while Georgina sat in a coffee shop, waiting for Philip. She was very happy with the confirmation of her condition. The doctor checked her thoroughly and declared that as a fit and healthy woman she
should have few problems bringing a child into the world. He asked to see her on a regular basis throughout the pregnancy, accepting that her age might raise issues as the pregnancy advanced.

  Philip came into the coffee shop.

  "Ready?" he asked. "How was your appointment?"

  "Brilliant," Georgina replied. "Everything should be fine."

  "I am pleased for you, now I'm over the shock," said Philip. "Ready to go home?"

  Zinsli made a show of getting Georgina into the car. It was big car.

  "What's all this?" asked Georgina.

  ""The truck has problems with its injectors," said Zinsli. "I've left it at the garage to get fixed."

  He took two suitcases from behind the front seats and made a show of placing them in the boot. They were old cases that Georgina had not seen before. Zinsli had taken them out of the locked store room in the farm house.

  "Someone left their luggage behind," he said. "The rental company knows where I live. They can send someone for the cases later. I want to get my beautiful partner home because she is so tired."

  Georgina was feeling tired and said she wold be glad to get home. The cases could wait.

  WHEN THEY REACHED THE farm, Georgina saw that Philip had two sheep penned in the holding yards beside the slaughterhouse. A sign above the door of the round building where the animals were killed read "Farm Kill Licence 34706". Underneath was written "All meat is Halal."

  "Got an order?" asked Georgina.

  "Yeah. Can you come and have a look at something. You may be able to help me with a problem I need to get rid of."

  Philip led Georgina across the yard and into the concrete slaughterhouse. She had been there many times, usually to call Philip to the phone, or for a coffee or a meal. She did not like the place at all. It was hygienically clean, like an operating theatre in a hospital. Philip used a high pressure hose to blast away the blood and small bits of flesh that were left behind after a killing. The disposal system had been expensive but the results were impressive, although it did not remove all of the smell. A tanker called on request to suck up the blood and solids and take them to be made into blood and bone fertiliser.

  "Would you mind watching while I do the first one?"

  Georgina did not want to watch a sheep being killed. Already suffering from morning sickness, she felt distinctly queasy.

  "Please? It's important so you can tell me what I'm doing wrong."

  Georgina loved Philip and would do almost anything for him. He was like most men, unwilling to share their problems until these were almost insurmountable.

  "Okay. Where should I stand?"

  Philip indicated a stool beside the door.

  "There should be fine. This won't take long."

  Philip put on a heavy white plastic apron. He went through the side door and came back dragging a sheep across the concrete floor, sliding it on its back, belly up, with the sheep's head tucked against the apron. Its forelegs were held at its chest and the hind legs stuck out at the rear. In this position sheep seldom struggle. The animal remained calm.

  The floor sloped to a drain in the centre of the small room. There was a shelf at shoulder height, curved to match the walls. Philip reached up with one hand and pulled down a knife. He bent one leg under the sheep's body and moved the neck of the animal sideways so that the sheep's throat was exposed.

  "There's a good fellow," he said. "This won't hurt a bit."

  Philip's voice was calm and reassuring. He had been trained by a Moslem butcher in how to kill an animal so the flesh was halal. An animal that is relaxed at the end should be more tender than one fighting for its life.

  Philip drew the edge of his hand across the sheep's throat two or three times. Then he used the back of the knife. The sheep realised there was no danger. It was used to vaccinations, shearing, and drenches. This was just another of those painless processes. Philip used the blade of the knife with his next stroke, cutting cleanly through the arteries and through the throat itself. Philip leaned the sheep over so the blood ran clear of his apron. The sheep remained placid. Then its eyes closed. It was dead.

  Georgina looked away. Philip released the animal. Blood had spattered on his apron.

  "Look," he said, moving towards Georgina. "That sheep died very peacefully. It's a good way to die."

  He put his arm around Georgina, who shrank back in fear.

  "Relax," said Philip. "There's a good girl. This won't hurt a bit."

  He bent her over his knee as he had the sheep. She whimpered in fear. He bent her head back and drew the knife across her throat, severing her carotid artery and slicing through her throat. He twisted so that her blood flowed on to the floor and not on to him. She could not struggle, lying across his thigh, on her back. Her eyes stared into his, then the light went from them and she was dead.

  IN FEBRUARY IN NEW Zealand, daylight lasts until about nine thirty. Zinsli hung the sheep upside down on the hooks over the drain. He took the fleece off, cutting around the ankles and wrists then cutting along the limbs. A cut around the neck and rear and a long cut down the chest and across the stomach and the fleece was ready to be pulled down and off. It came off easily because there had been no stress as the animal died. Zinsli dressed the sheep, covered the carcase with mutton cloth then let it hang. Later he would put it in the chiller.

  He then pulled the tubular mutton cloth over Georgina's body, knotting it at the top and bottom. He was still wearing his heavy white plastic apron as he carried her to the tractor and put her in the bucket at the front. She looked like a rather large sheep that was heading for the offal pit, but her destination was the grave Zinsli had dug.

  He had to wait until it was dark so he went back to the slaughter house and cleaned up. He blasted water and disinfectant around the circular wall and the floor. He made certain that Georgina's blood was washed away with the sheep's. The last traces of Georgina and the sheep turned pink and gurgled down the drain. Then he went into the house and started to cook an evening meal; new potatoes which he had scraped, peas that Georgina had shelled, and cold mutton from the roast the night before. While the vegetables were cooking, he rang the suction outfit and asked them to clean his tank as soon as they could.

  Next, he rang Sally Somerville. He got Greg.

  "Hi Greg, it's Philip here," said Zinsli. "Georgina's awol. I'm ringing to ask your good wife if she knows where she might be?"

  "I'll get her."

  Sally came to the phone. "Hello?" she asked.

  "It's Philip Zinsli here. Georgina's not back from town yet. Have you heard from her?"

  Sally answered, "Sorry, Philip. Not a word. She was going to the doctor today, wasn't she?"

  "Yes. She thought she might be pregnant but she rang me and said it was a false alarm. A pity. I was a bit upset at first because of the health risks but after that I was really looking forward to being a dad."

  Sally asked, "Have you rung the police?"

  "No, I thought I'd try you first. Perhaps she felt unwell and took a motel for the night. She was meant to phone me when I was to go and pick her up but there have been no calls. Could you call me back to check my phone is okay?"

  Sally thought that was a good idea. "I'll call you straight back," she said.

  Philip's phone was working. "Let me know when she calls," said Sally. "She's a good friend. You're a lucky man."

  With his two calls made, Zinsli went back to the tractor. Daylight was fading. He knew from his phone call that both Somervilles were in their house and would not see him. Anyway, they would think that he was tipping a sick sheep's body into the offal pit. He had thought of throwing the suitcases there but a search would find them and bring suspicion down upon him. He would drive down to Christchurch in the morning and leave them somewhere there.

  Zinsli reached the hole. He lifted the bucket a little higher then tipped it. Georgina's body fell heavily into the hole. Zinsli used the bucket to fill the hole. He would root rake the slope after he returned the rental ca
r and came back from the trip to Christchurch in his own vehicle. Job done.

  PART TWO: TWO YEARS EARLIER

  3.

  Sally Somerville walked along the river bank while Lance was in his room playing with his toy bulldozer. Lance would play for hours just pushing his bulldozer backwards and forwards. He made a vrooooom noise as he did it, cute at first but irritating after several hours.

  Lance was eight. When he hadn't spoken by 30 months, the psychologist diagnosed Lance as autistic. He said the enormous tantrums Lance threw if he didn't get what he wanted immediately were part of the behaviour pattern for autistic children. Lance would also remain fixated on one simple activity. That was called 'perSEVerance.'

  "Like PerseVERance?"" Greg had asked. The psychologist quietly explained that the technical tern was pronounced differently and meant among other things a pointless continuation of some activity.

  "How do we know what he wants if he can't tell us?" Sally had asked.

  "That will be extremely frustrating both for him and for you," Mr Weatherall had said. "He will not talk until he needs to, and if you always anticipate his needs, it will slow his development. On the other hand, if you don't meet his needs he will throw tantrums until you do."

  "Will he grow out of it?" asked Greg.

  "Perhaps," said Mr Weatherall. "We'll see you regularly and evaluate his progress. You can start him in a play centre soon. There's one in Te Kouka, near you."

  Lance was so violent, Sally was asked to take him away from the play centre, to bring him back when he was ready. As he was only three years old at the time that made sense, but the rejection and the feeling of guilt, of being a bad mother with an uncontrolled child, really hurt.

  Lance drove Sally and Greg to distraction. He lived in his own world. He might not eat his meals, instead throwing them on the floor or the walls, whilst screaming at the top of his voice. Then again, he might feel hungry and scream at the top of his voice in the early hours of the morning. Sally took to preparing two meals for him, one for when they ate and the other as a night time replacement for the food he had thrown out.