by Jackson Lear
The detective thought it over for a few seconds, adding it to the long list of quirks the town was starting to become known for. “What do you think happened?”
Josh locked eyes with the detective. “Someone knew we were in that house and they wanted to scare us away.”
“What about Catherine? What do you think happened to her?”
That was all Josh had been able to think about for the last twenty four hours. He had twisted and turned the story over so often that it started to breach the realm of reality. Only now, sitting in a very real office talking to a very real police officer, did all of the nonsense start to drift away. “My mum told me to make sure I don’t go looking for our cat when it’s dark, because someone might have taken him and is waiting for me. Lots of things go missing from people’s houses and if it’s the same person doing it then they’ve been in and out of a lot of houses and no one has ever seen them. Like Marcus in my class. He made an alarm system for his house. Lots of string and bells. One night the bells went off in the hallway outside his bedroom. He saw someone running out of his house and down the street. None of the adults believed him because nothing was stolen. They said the wind may have blown open the door because the lock was a little funny. They believe glass jars full of dead animals but they don’t believe someone was standing outside his bedroom.”
“Where does Marcus live?” Detective Millan asked.
Josh pointed on the map. It was one street west of Catherine’s.
Every morning there was a school assembly to keep the kids informed about Catherine’s disappearance, otherwise the endless rumours would spiral out of control. Despite their efforts, there was always some story about an axe-wielding maniac hiding in the nearby trees.
Parents went door to door with pictures of Catherine. She was friendly and studious but was continually stressed out because all of her friends knew what they wanted to do with the rest of their lives while she still struggled to find her path. It led to several panic attacks at home.
She was in the middle of her GCSEs. The start of her A-Levels weren’t far away and she had to know what to study if she wanted to get accepted into university. But where would she go? And what would she study? It might already be too late, considering her varied choices in GCSEs. There was a good chance the university would balk at what she thought had been appropriate to study in school. Then they would point out that her grades had been in free fall ever since her first panic attack. They wouldn’t risk accepting her, not if there was another student who wasn’t going to flake out at the end of their first semester.
On Saturday night Catherine snuck outside to blow off some steam.
Zoe and Charlie were in the back of the car when Louise stopped at a set of traffic lights.
“Hey, hey! That’s him! That’s the Creature!” shouted Charlie, pointing frantically out the window.
Louise craned her neck around to see what Charlie, twelve, was looking at. “What creature?”
“Him! Next to the bus stop!”
Louise looked over and couldn’t make out what her son was pointing at. “Charlie?”
“That’s the guy with the dead frogs!”
Louise still didn’t see what Charlie was talking about. Zoe, however, squinted and stared at the thirteen year old with unwashed hair and beaten-up trousers. One hell of a growth spurt had kicked in. The boy was perpetually hunched over, though, like he was always fighting off the rain or the cold from his neck and shoulders.
“Are you sure?” Zoe asked.
“What are you two looking at?”
“The bus stop! There’s only one person there,” said Charlie.
“The boy, Mum. With the black trousers and jacket,” said Zoe.
Louise stared at the kid. She had seen him the first time but never paid him any attention. “What about him?”
Charlie gasped in despair. “He’s the one putting dead animals in jars!”
“You shouldn’t say things like that, Charlie,” said Louise. The light turned green and they rolled away.
“No! Stop! We have to go back!”
“Charlie? I’ve already had a long day and I’m in no mood ...”
“I bet he knows something about Catherine.”
That certainly caught her attention. Zoe looked around to see if the scruffy kid had it in him.
“He’s your age, Charlie. Twelve year olds don’t take fifteen year old girls away.”
He’s thirteen, Zoe thought.
“But Mum!”
“Enough with the shouting, Charlie, I’m not deaf.”
They turned the corner. Zoe lingered on Charlie. As far as she was concerned she had never seen the boy before. Then an ancient memory struck her, one where some little pipsqueak stared under Claire’s skirt and then showed them all a toad in a box. If it was the same boy then Charlie had a better memory than she did.
Patrick found his mum sitting in the kitchen reading the paper and drinking a herbal tea. She thought the tea would help to fight the calories building up in her thighs. The biscuits on the side made it a losing battle.
“Mum? Can Josh come over?”
It was still a touchy subject. Not just because Luxford was still on something of a parental lock-down but because she had caught Patrick walking through the streets late at night last month when he should have been at home. Josh had been with him. It was also around the time that McIntyre boy wrecked his car. She had horrible visions of Patrick being crushed between the blue Citroen and the alley behind the chemist. It was like there was a curse that followed Josh and his friends. Whenever they got together something bad always happened to someone else.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Clarissa said.
“Please?”
“His parents wouldn’t be comfortable with him over here, not while Catherine is still missing.”
“But he’ll be here.”
“And the way you two sneak out I wouldn’t be comfortable having him here either. Maybe you can play another day.”
“We don’t play,” said Patrick.
“Sure you do.”
No, they didn’t. Play was a childish thing to do. Now they hung out.
“Please?” Patrick asked again.
“Another time, maybe,” Clarissa said.
Patrick sulked back to his bedroom. He had just acquired a collection of coins from his grandpa and heard that placing them on a railway would make them flat. Granted, coins were flat already, but this would make them flatter. It wasn’t far from Patrick’s house to the train tracks. He put his coins away and went back to his comics.
If Clarissa had allowed Patrick and Josh to hang out that day they would have found the body of Catherine Shievers hidden in a suitcase. They would have seen who killed her as well.
4
Josh
Thirty Four Years Old
The entire team at VizCuts were usually so far behind schedule that most of the editors could be found eating their lunch in front of one computer screen or another. Up until last week Josh was the same. The change came from trying to squeeze into his suit for Lucy’s wedding. He was then forced to make a bold promise to himself. If he could slim back to the same body he had ten years ago then he would buy himself an Armani and outclass all the other guests.
He was a senior editor of corporate and commercial videos operating in Luxford. Occasionally he got to work on a reasonably pricey short film but mostly it was corporate gigs, training videos, and comedy specials for the boardroom written by people who dreamed of life beyond a cubicle. Today’s task was handling another video full of synergy and paradigms for a construction company based in London.
His rapid-fire supervisor tapped on the door. “Hey, it’s five to one. Umago. You in?”
Josh had once rummaged through Lukas’ desk, looking for the speed or cocaine that he must have lived on twenty-four hours a day, considering that Lukas all but teleported from one meeting to the next, never missed a deadline, and could find the location
of any folder in the whole building before anyone else even started to look for it.
Josh’s lunch time struggle just became a little more problematic. “I thought you were heading to Garuva’s.”
“Well, yeah, I’m kinda hoping you’ll be able to sway everyone towards Umago.”
“That would easier if Renee didn’t have a bunch of hand outs that got you a free desert with every meal.”
Lukas drew in a lengthy breath and slowly sighed. It was the longest he had stood still all day. “I’m not sure if a quinoa salad and an apple celery juice can really be considered worth it if it costs more than a lasagne and beer from across the street.”
“You can always buck the trend and go to Umago’s alone.”
Lukas weighed his options carefully while jostling his head from side to side. “Do they do takeaway?”
“You can’t bring beer out of a restaurant.”
“Hmm.”
“I’m sure you can survive one day of kale and whatever else ‘looks good,’” said Josh, as he shot his supervisor with a devilish grin.
Renee called out like a kind-hearted but woefully naïve school teacher on her first day at work. “Alright, everyone for a vegan wonder better be ready!”
The grin quickly stretched from ear to ear. “Just imagine you’re eating bacon-wrapped-steak drizzled in gravy.”
“Stop it,” glared Lukas.
“With a side of crispy chicken wings in a blue cheese sauce.”
“Oh for fu–” He quickly stepped inside to allow Renee to stop at the doorway.
Renee flicked her burnt red fringe out of her eyes. “Are you coming, Josh?”
He shook his head with a burst of feigned disappointment. “I can’t this week so I’m sending Lukas in my place. Make sure he has a seaweed wrap for me.”
Renee laughed it off and went to rustle up the rest of the boys and girls.
Lukas slumped against the doorframe. “I forgot about the seaweed.”
“Just wait until they all start taking photos of everything,” said Josh. “That alone will drag out the agony by another ten minutes.”
Lukas grumbled, turned, and allowed his fate to be guided by the frumpy woman who might find herself up for a surprise review in a few hours.
Josh turned back to his computer, waited until the clatter from the building settled, and went to grab his lunch from the kitchen.
The kettle was rumbling to a boil when he arrived. Josh paused at one of the cupboards as he caught a whiff of fresh perfume lingering in front of him. He readied a smile and dropped a squeeze of lemon and honey into a pair of mugs.
The blonde with sandstorm eyes bounded into the kitchen just as Josh finished pouring the tea. She was wearing a high-buttoned cream blouse, a light skirt, and sheer tights. “Oh my god, these Germans won’t leave me the fuck alone.”
Josh, in his ripped jeans and Havana grey t-shirt, handed Brooke her tea. “I bet they have you on speed dial by now.”
“They really do. And they were miffed when no one was here to answer the phone this morning when I went to the bathroom.”
“Of course, because clearly you should have had the foresight to forward all the office calls to your mobile and bring it in with you.”
“I know, right? But it’s like that dick has a status report to fill in every fifteen minutes or something and if I don’t answer promptly then he gets in trouble because the higher ups will think that he did nothing for a whole quarter of an hour when in fact he spoke to me for just one minute. Two at the most. I should really learn how to tell them to smoke a joint or two, calm down, and then fuck off.”
Josh shook his head before blowing into his tea. “Can’t help you there, I’m afraid. I only know two phrases in German; one to get them into bed, the other to get them to leave.”
Brooke took a moment to see what else the smartarse had to offer. “I don’t think I need to use either of those to get them to calm down a little.”
“I’m not so sure. The second one is definitely worth a look. Sie ist nur eine Freundin.”
Brooke squinted at Josh to see if she could break his soul with just a flick of her eyes. “If I look that up and find it means something rude …”
“I am certain it’s not as bad as you think it is.”
“Tell me.”
“But you shouldn’t look it up while at work.”
“Tell me.”
“Definitely not.”
“Tell me!”
Josh shot Brooke a secretive smile as he reeled her in another inch. Just as she hesitated he turned to the fridge. “So these English speaking Germans, what did they say?”
Brooke headed to the cutlery rack by the sink to find a clean fork. “The video we sent them wouldn’t play on their TV.”
“Does it work on their computer?”
“Yes.”
“What about when they hook the computer to the TV?”
“I didn’t ask them that. They wanted me to send it to them in a new format.”
“You know the next complaint will be that it plays on the TV but not on the computer.”
Brooke blew out a deep sigh. “Yeah, no kidding.” She scooted Josh to the side and grabbed her lunch from the fridge. “You want some stir fry?”
“Sure, just a little.”
“What have you got?”
“Grilled chicken salad,” said Josh.
Brooke rolled her eyes at the sorry excuse of a fair trade.
“With pine nuts and feta cheese.”
“How’s the no-burgers and chips thing going?”
“It has all the joy of spending a well-earned holiday with no one but your in-laws.” Josh sat down at the large kitchen table opposite Brooke, realised he didn’t have a fork, so he plucked the one from Brook’s hand before taking a bite of her lunch.
“Hey!”
“You said I could.”
“Not with my fork!”
“You didn’t get me one.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I made you a tea.”
“Which is the least you could do considering I got you out of going to a restaurant that is probably actually quite good for you.”
Josh pulled back with resounding indignation. “I got me out of that. And you didn’t even wish me a happy birthday today, so there.”
Brooke locked eyes with Josh. “It’s not your birthday.”
Josh helped himself to another bite of stir fry. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah. I have a list of everyone’s birthdays in case Janine wants to see who’s going to take a surprise sick day or who deserves cake.”
“Ah, so you know when my birthday actually is. Surprise me.”
“March.”
“The …?”
“Nine … teenth?”
That earned Brooke a nod of respect. “Just before you started here, right?”
“I can’t remember the exact date,” said Brooke. She grabbed a fork from the sink. “Bet you don’t even know when mine is.”
“Wouldn’t be the fourteenth of March, would it?”
Brooke dug into a green bean and beef strip combo. “It’s a little weird how you knew that off the top of your head.”
“Pi day. Easy enough to remember.”
“Pie day?”
“And it’s one of the few dates you highlighted on the calendar.”
“What the hell is a pie day?”
“March fourteenth. 3.14. Pi.”
“Oh. So today’s not your birthday.”
“Not even close.”
“It’s not that far off, though.”
“We have almost another year to go, honey,” said Josh.
“Any plans?”
“I plan on not dying. See how long I can keep that going for.”
“You’ll be thirty five, yeah?”
Josh studied the twenty six year old carefully. “Been checking up on me?”
“Need to know how many candles to put on the cake,” said Brooke, with a chee
ky smile.
“Is that so?”
“Aaaaaand I may have looked you up online.”
Josh felt a smile stretch from one ear to the next. “Oh really?”
“You’re friends with a lot of attractive people.”
“Been checking out the photos as well, I see.”
Brook matched Josh’s look. “You have a type, I’ll give you that.”
“More than you realise,” Josh said quietly.
Brook dug into her food and toyed with the last few words that Josh said. At the very least she now had him making the perfect cup of tea. Maybe by next week she would have him making them both lunch.
“So I’ve been thinking … which gym do you go to?”
Brook shook her head at the sudden change in conversation. “The one on Lonsdale. You want to come? I think I have a bring-a-friend voucher for the rest of the month.”
“Kinda, but I’m not much of a gym person.”
“I usually do the yoga classes.”
“Ah.”
Brooke narrowed her eyes and studied Josh carefully. “You’d be the only guy our class. There’s eight of us already and if all those girls don’t inspire some flexibility then nothing will. The instructor is really good. You’ll like her. She has a Canadian accent and has one hell of a tongue on her.”
Josh shook his head. “I don’t know. I once dated a Canadian. Everything was hilare-this and hilare-that.”
“Okay, dismiss my offer of staring at ladies pointing their bums at you because you once dated a Canuck.”
Josh broke into a desperate laugh. “You didn’t let me finish.”
Brooke arched an eyebrow at Josh and looked as solemn as the Royal Family posing for a portrait.
Josh stared back sheepishly. “Okay, I was finished. You may continue.”
Brooke returned to her lunch. “So our instructor’s cheeky. She talks about how positions are good during tantric sex and she really gets you to open up your hips a lot.”
“That works?”
“Hell yeah. I can now do the splits.”