Bone Harvest

by James Brogden

‘Didn’t you make a complaint?’ asked Lennox, who was buying every word.

  ‘We told the allotments supervisor, Angie Robotham, in strictest confidence, but mostly we just tried to avoid the man. As I say, his family was already under a lot of strain and we didn’t want to add to that, even if he was the one in the wrong.’

  ‘That definitely sounds like an awkward situation,’ said Lennox, who seemed to be taking a bit of a shine to her.

  ‘I wasn’t going to say anything.’ She shrugged. ‘But you asked me if there was anyone who disliked us enough, and his is the only name that springs to mind.’ It would also divert the police’s attention very conveniently away from her.

  It seemed to have done the trick because Sergeant Ryland closed his notebook and tucked it away. ‘Well, we’ll certainly have a word with Mr Pimblett, just to be on the safe side. Thank you for cooperating so fully.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure to help,’ she replied as he and Lennox returned to their car. ‘I only hope that you find the poor girl.’

  ‘We will, Miss Hughes. Don’t worry about that.’

  She saw them out of the gate, waving and smiling, and only when they had disappeared around a bend in the lane did she expel a huge sigh of relief. When she got back to the house, Everett was cleaning and checking his revolver with a face like thunder.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she asked.

  ‘Pimblett,’ he growled. ‘That’s who I’m going to do. So much for keeping the police away from us. And after everything we’ve done for him. I’m going to hang his daughter from a fucking butcher’s hook.’

  ‘And guarantee that they come back with dogs and guns? That’s not at all wise, my dear. Besides, nobody’s going to believe a word he says – especially not if he’s stupid enough to start babbling about ancient gods and miraculous healing. Conserve your energy for tonight’s ceremony – after that there’s only two more before our lord Moccus rises again and our church will see him in his glory. Already they give us all the alibis we need. I know you’re angry, and you’re right to be, but you’re clever enough not to do anything to jeopardise the replenishment.’

  As she was talking she was stroking his hands, calming him down, taking the gun out of them and putting it on the table behind her. Gradually, Everett relented. ‘You’re obviously just pandering to me,’ he said.

  ‘Yes. Tell me it isn’t working.’

  He put the gun away and pulled himself together. ‘I’d better go and get Gar,’ he said.

  When he’d left, Ardwyn picked up the phone and dialled. ‘Hello, Angie?’ she said. ‘I need you to do a favour for me. You might get a visit from a pair of policemen today – no no no, nothing serious – but here’s what I need you to say…’

  * * *

  David spent the rest of the morning waiting to hear news of an arrest – of raids; the girl discovered, distressed but alive, excavations and grisly discoveries. He tried to distract himself by taking care of some odd jobs around the house. The garden, especially, was a disaster zone. For a start, the lawn hadn’t been mown in months. When they’d first moved in, Becky had planted a load of colourful things like crocosmia and astilbe, but when he went out there he found that the flower beds had been taken over by holly, hawthorn, and hazel – huge glossy green monsters, their berries probably having been dropped in bird shit. The old plants of the English hedgerow had come back and were reclaiming their own. When the police finally did arrive, he was sweaty and covered in scratches from trying to rip them out, but they were proving to be stubborn.

  The cops introduced themselves as Sergeant Ryland and PC Lennox, and as David let them in he stupidly thought that they had come to tell him the good news directly.

  ‘I hear you’re a Special,’ said Ryland, peering around at the kitchen.

  David put the kettle on and took out three mugs. ‘Just once or twice a week. Usually weekends, you know?’

  ‘Oh, I know. Bloody bedlam it is out there on a Friday night, isn’t it? Tell me Mr Pimblett, what do you like about being a Special?’

  ‘I don’t know. The chance to help people, I suppose.’

  ‘Yeah, but you must find it exciting. Riding with the nee-naw on, sorting out troublemakers, keeping the streets safe. Bit like Batman.’

  ‘If you say so. What’s this all about?’

  PC Lennox took over at that point, and with a jolt David realised that this wasn’t just a friendly chat. It was an interrogation. He left the mugs where they were. ‘You were volunteering yesterday, weren’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Night shift, eight till four.’

  ‘Following up a misper report. You went to a place called Farrow Farm.’

  ‘Me and the Sarge went to quite a few places.’

  ‘Yeah, but you know the people at Farrow Farm, though, don’t you?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, you’re neighbours at the Briar Hill allotments, aren’t you?’

  David leaned back against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms. The kettle boiled and switched itself off, unattended. ‘So?’

  Ryland was flipping back through the past months in the kitchen calendar, but let it drop and turned back to him. ‘So, we’ve just had a chat with Angie Robotham, the secretary of your allotments association.’

  ‘I know who she is!’ David snapped.

  ‘Steady now. There’s no need to be getting all upset.’

  ‘Well, I wish you’d just tell me what this is all about!’

  ‘All right then. Mr Pimblett, did you make an anonymous phone call alleging that the residents of Farrow Farm are responsible for the disappearance of Lauren Jeffries? See,’ Ryland continued before David could react, ‘they’ve told us, and Mrs Robotham has confirmed it, that you and they had a somewhat fractious relationship. That you even, on occasion, threatened to use your status as a Special Constable to intimidate them.’

  ‘They said what? That’s bullshit!’

  ‘Now I understand the appeal of volunteering as a Special, I really do. It’s exciting, you get to wear the uniform, maybe throw your weight around with people who deserve it. Maybe sometimes with people who just piss you off.’

  David had been worried that he wouldn’t be able to lie convincingly, but his indignation at the bare-faced cheek of the lies being told about him was very genuine. ‘This is a load of bullshit! They’re lying! I’ve never done that, and I never would. You can ask anybody.’

  ‘I just told you, we did. Mr Pimblett, I wouldn’t normally get out of bed to follow up a report of someone making nuisance calls. I wouldn’t even fart, scratch my balls, and go back to sleep for it. But when it impedes the search for a missing youngster – that I take seriously. And I take it especially seriously, not to mention personally, if it happens to involve some part-timer wearing the uniform that I wear every day and taking the piss by using it to pursue their petty personal vendettas.’

  ‘Sarge, I’m telling you, I did not make that call.’

  ‘Good, glad to hear it.’ Ryland clapped him on the shoulder with a heavy, meaty hand. ‘If by any chance you do hear anything about Miss Jeffries, you be sure to let us know, okay?’

  ‘You will literally be the first person that I call.’

  Ryland gave him a look as if trying to work out whether or not he was taking the piss, but then obviously decided to give him the benefit of the doubt because he collected PC Lennox and they both left. David tried calling Dennie again but there was no reply and, not for the first time, he cursed the fact that she didn’t have a mobile. Still, there really only was one place where she was likely to be.

  * * *

  Dennie was seeing how many of her strawberry plants could be salvaged from the fire when David Pimblett turned up looking for her. A midsummer Sunday was peak time on the allotments, and it seemed that everybody was out in the sun, working their plots, which in many cases were burgeoning. It looked like Briar Hill was set for the best harvest for many years. A few had come by during the day to offer th
eir condolences and help with the clean-up, but nowhere near as many as would have been the case a few years ago. She tried not to let her paranoia get the better of her, making her see everybody else as belonging to the newcomers’ little carnivorous clique. David had told her whom he’d seen at their dinner party, and it was obvious that Ardwyn and Everett had been busy behind the scenes recruiting many more such ‘volunteers’. On the face of it, everybody was all smiles and friendly banter about the size of each other’s marrows, and she tried not to see sidelong glances and whispered conversations but couldn’t quite convince herself that they weren’t happening all around her.

  ‘They won’t believe either of us. You, because they think you’re an attention-seeker with a bee in your bonnet for the newcomers, and me because I’m gaga.’

  ‘We need hard evidence. We need to actually catch them in the act of whatever they’re doing, and call the police then.’

  ‘Oh, I think we have a pretty good idea of what they’re doing.’

  ‘You really think they’re killing people?’

  ‘I’ve seen the knife that they use to do it, and the skull of the thing that they’re doing it for.’

  ‘Well, if you want hard evidence, that’s simply done. Come on.’ She got up and marched off towards the Neary plot, spade in hand. David followed close behind. ‘Have you got your phone?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. Frankly, I don’t give a toss any more about whether they know I’ve broken into their bloody shed. If what I think is there, the cops will find it and it’s done. If not, it’s just you and me that’s done. Either way I’m finished buggering about. Here,’ she handed him the spade as they walked, ‘you’re stronger than I am.’

  She’d worked her plot here for nearly forty years – she’d seen newcomers arrive and give up within weeks or else go on to become long-timers like herself with decades of their lives in this soil. She’d seen their sheds go up, come down, move, fall apart, and be replaced. She’d seen plots merge and split, seen the families in the surrounding houses grow and leave and be replaced just like the fruit trees that she’d seen grow from seed, blossom and fruit for year after year, and then die. She’d watched people making love on their allotment when they thought nobody could see them, and she’d helped a woman bury the corpse of her murdered husband in one of them. This was her land, and someone was poisoning it right beneath her feet, and she meant to do something about that.

  As they approached the Neary plot she saw Shane and Jason ambling over from the other direction to join them. Shane had a rake resting over his shoulder, and Jason had a one-handed claw-trowel, and at first she thought they had come to help – or out of simple curiosity at least – until she heard David muttering angrily under his breath and remembered that these two were now members of the newcomers’ chosen few. They were just a little bit closer and faster than Dennie and David, and were standing in the way of their approach to the newcomers’ shed by the time they got there.

  ‘Afternoon, David,’ said Shane with a neighbourly smile.

  ‘Dennie,’ said Jason, nodding at her.

  ‘How are things?’ Shane added, still smiling. ‘How’s Alice doing?’

  ‘She’s good, thanks,’ David replied curtly. ‘Safely out of harm’s way now.’

  ‘Oh, that’s fabulous! Really glad to hear it!’

  David moved to step around him, and the rake came down off Shane’s shoulder ever so casually, blocking his way.

  ‘Where you going there, Dave?’ he asked, more quietly.

  ‘Not really any of your business,’ David replied. ‘Fancy getting out of my way?’

  Shane shook his head, still smiling. ‘Looks to me like you’re set to do mischief to our neighbour’s shed. I don’t know why you’d want to do such a thing, but I couldn’t let that happen. What kind of neighbour would that make me?’

  ‘The kind that doesn’t get his head kicked in,’ David growled, and tried to push the rake aside but Shane got behind it, and he weighed a good couple of stone heavier.

  ‘Oh, don’t be so bloody stupid,’ said Dennie, and started around Jason, who stepped to meet her and grabbed her by the arm. She found the claw-trowel’s three sharp tines pressed against her stomach.

  ‘Please don’t do this,’ he whispered. His grip was painfully tight. Was this the strength that he got from being one of those who had eaten the first flesh? Or it might have simply been that he was a good forty years younger.

  Viggo’s growl was the subterranean approach of something massive threatening to burst out and engulf the man. She could feel her dog trembling with fury through her grip on his collar, and she looked Jason square in the eye. ‘You might want to rethink that, son,’ she said.

  Jason released his grasp.

  ‘And I’ll scream blue murder if you don’t let us go right this minute,’ she added.

  ‘And what good will that do?’ asked Shane. ‘Other than involve innocent people who might get hurt? How many do you think there are around you right now who didn’t receive Moccus’ blessing that first time and who haven’t since? Not many. Mother has been having lots of dinner parties.’

  Dennie looked around. All of the allotment tenants she could see were just getting on with their normal Sunday; digging, raking, weeding. If anybody had looked this way would they see anything other than four neighbours getting together for a bit of a chin-wag in the sun?

  ‘Someone will call the police,’ she said, but didn’t even sound convincing to herself.

  ‘And what will the police see? A silly old woman with a history of erratic behaviour and a man who they’ve already had to talk to once for making hoax phone calls? You want to keep a close hold of that dog of yours, Dennie. If he goes for someone then we really will have to call the police and they’ll have to put a bullet in his head.’

  David snarled, grabbed the rake handle and tried to shove past him, but the strength of Moccus’ blessing within him was matched by that in Shane, who easily held him at bay. Between them they gripped the rake like two of Robin Hood’s merry men fighting over a quarterstaff. ‘Seriously, Shane,’ he said, ‘what’s happened to you, man? We used to be mates. You and Jase have babysat for us, for God’s sake.’

  Maybe a shadow of regret passed over Shane’s face, like a small and fleeting cloud against the sun, but it was gone quickly. ‘You know what’s happened to me, because it’s happened to you too. Why are you fighting it, David? Why are you fighting us? Mother and Everett have done nothing but help us from day one. We’re strong, we’re healthy, our lives have been turned around. I’m just trying to stop you wrecking their shed and you’re acting like this is Invasion of the Body Snatchers or something!’

  ‘Everett and “Mother”,’ replied David, ‘are killing people. That’s why. It’s not exactly complicated.’

  Shane laughed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

  ‘It’s true. I can prove it. Just let me get into that shed and I’ll show you.’

  ‘Can’t do that, I’m afraid. Mother’s orders. Go home, David. Have a good long think about what’s in the best interests of your family. There’s going to be a big get-together tomorrow up at the Farm. Genuinely, I hope to see you and Becky and Alice there. Otherwise…’ He shrugged. ‘Might be best if you stayed away for good.’

  He gave a gentle shove and David let go of the rake handle, letting himself be pushed away.

  ‘Come on, Dennie,’ said David in disgust. ‘This is useless.’

  They left, along with a Great Dane who was still rumbling with anger.

  As they walked, Dennie asked him, ‘What did Shane mean by “Moccus’ blessing”, David? What aren’t you telling me about this?’

  ‘You’re going to think I’m crazy,’ he said.

  She laughed. ‘I’m the last person to accuse anyone of that.’

  He was looking at her with the kind of half-afraid, half-hopeful expression of a child who has been caught in the act of something shameful and doesn’t know whether or n
ot to tell the truth.

  ‘I can’t help you if I don’t know what I’m dealing with,’ she said.

  So they walked, and he told her.

  5

  THE BONE CARNYX

  DAVID AND DENNIE RETREATED TO HER HOUSE TO mull over their options.

  ‘We need to go back there tonight and catch them in the act, then call the police,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter what else has happened – if they get a call to say there’s a kidnapped girl being attacked, they are going to turn up.’

  David shook his head. ‘It’s still going to take them too long. Being so out of the way as this place is, and emergency resources being what they are, we’ll be lucky if they turn up inside ten minutes. We could all be dead by then.’

  ‘So we have to make sure that they’re in the area, close enough to come at a moment’s notice but not so close that the Farrow get spooked, and for a long enough time, because we don’t know when it’s all going to kick off. Maybe, I don’t know, if they get a phone call from someone saying that they saw a girl matching the description walking along the A38 nearby or something. They’d have to drive up and down and then check out the side roads – that could take them quite a while.’

  ‘And what if they ping the number that called them because they’ve already had one bogus call and realise that it’s not coming from a driver but from an allotment?’

  ‘Then don’t be at the allotment! Take your car, drive down the road to a lay-by and do it from there. Use my phone; I’m squeaky clean as far as the police are concerned. David, it doesn’t matter if they think it’s bogus; they can’t not investigate it. It’s not like the boy who cried wolf. They’re not going to sit there and say “no, we won’t bother with this one”. They might only send one car but they will send someone.’

  ‘The timing is going to be tricky. The Farrow might choose to do their thing any time from when the last person leaves. That’s a big window – four or five hours, possibly. The police might give up before we need them.’

  ‘Maybe we can narrow it down. We know that they’re obsessed by the phases of the moon, especially the waxing crescent phase. Have you still got that moon phase app thingy on your phone?’