Jess Castle and the Eyeballs of Death

by M B Vincent

  ‘I daresay,’ said Jess.

  ‘Tell you what,’ said Rupert, looking at Pandora. ‘Why don’t you tag along, Jess? You won’t have much to do now they’ve arrested that Pan bloke. We can watch Patricia Smalls try to seduce Uncle Hugo.’

  ‘Do come, do!’ said Pandora.

  Jess paused for a moment, as if seriously considering the invitation. ‘Nah. You go ahead. I’m not fit for public consumption.’

  ‘You sure?’ asked Rupert.

  ‘So very sure,’ intoned Jess disingenuously, head cocked.

  ‘Aw, really?’ Pandora seemed stricken.

  ‘Really,’ said Jess.

  Rupert bobbed awkwardly on the spot. ‘Right. Then we’d better be off, I suppose.’

  ‘Right,’ said Jess.

  ‘Tatty bye then,’ cooed Pandora.

  Jess nodded. ‘Bye then.’

  ‘Bye Jess,’ said Rupert.

  ‘Bye Rupert,’ said Jess.

  ‘Byesy-bye,’ giggled Pandora.

  The two backed away, still arm in arm. Rupert’s face was a question mark.

  Jess pretended to look at her phone.

  Arseholes, she thought.

  With Pan – or Kevin – safely locked away under Eden’s watch, Jess felt it was safe to visit Pitt’s Field. Eden wouldn’t like it, but Eden didn’t have to know. It might help with unravelling the knotted mystery of the symbols.

  If it took her mind off Rupert and Pandora, well, that was a bonus.

  This time the camp seemed different. Less foreboding. Not so unearthly. Without their chieftain in place, the women washed clothes, prepared food, chatted. Children ran around the fire, laughing and chasing each other.

  ‘Hello!’ shouted Jess from the gate.

  Two children stopped for a moment, then ran towards her. Tittering and twittering, they tugged at her skirt.

  ‘What’s going on here then?’ she asked.

  ‘We’re playing horses,’ said the small blond boy.

  ‘And we’re hunting for prehistorink animals,’ added the older girl. ‘Do you want to help us?’

  ‘Who are we looking for?’ asked Jess, down on her haunches. ‘Mammoths? Sabre-toothed tigers?’

  ‘Who are they?’ asked the boy blankly.

  ‘They’re prehistorink animals.’ No need to let the little girl know she’d mispronounced it. People would line up the rest of her life to tell her what she was doing wrong.

  The boy took this in. ‘Tell us what they look like so we can catch them and take them to our cave.’

  ‘All right. Do you have a pencil and a piece of paper?’

  The girl shook her head. ‘We’re not allowed them.’

  ‘Does Pan say you’re not allowed?’

  The children nodded, part Wicker Man and part Oliver Twist in their dirty, oversized clothes.

  ‘Can I help you?’ The question was not polite. A string bean of a woman strode towards the gate, joint dangling between stained fingers.

  ‘I’m looking for Caroline.’

  The woman looked Jess up and down. ‘You’re a pig, aren’t you?’ She oinked and the children laughed.

  ‘I’m an old school friend. Caroline knows me.’ Jess tried to strike a blameless tone.

  The string bean held Jess in her gaze. ‘All right. Come with me.’

  Jess followed, the children dancing behind her.

  ‘You’ll still help us hunt mammoths, though?’ The girl was anxious.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Another promise Jess wouldn’t keep.

  ‘Will that be before no-more times?’ called the boy.

  Jess halted in the mud. ‘No-more times?’

  The girl shrugged matter-of-factly, as if everyone knew. ‘Yes, silly. No-more times is coming.’

  Jess caught up with her guide, who was rapping at a caravan door.

  Caroline emerged, bleary-eyed, into the sunlight. ‘Jess?’

  ‘That’s me!’ Jess hoped she sounded breezy. ‘Fancy a walk?’

  The other woman’s glare didn’t abate.

  ‘Erm . . . I don’t . . . we’re not really—’

  ‘Come on, Caroline. Lovely day. Sun’s shining.’ Jess sounded like her father. Peremptory. Little bit judgemental. ‘Bring the little one out for some air.’

  Caroline disappeared briefly and then re-emerged. She was putting her arms into what had probably once been a denim jacket. Her daughter, fingers in mouth, followed.

  Jess linked arms with Caroline briskly. ‘This-a-way!’ She pointed to a far corner of the clearing.

  ‘No pig talk,’ called the string bean.

  ‘No pig talk!’ sang Jess.

  Reminiscing about school didn’t bring Caroline back to the real world. Nor did asking about her daughter. As they sat on a fallen tree, Jess watched the toddler potter in the mud. One thing Pitt’s Field had in abundance was mud.

  Up close, Caroline looked more than dirty and ill-nourished. She looked wretched. Dead eyes. Green teeth. Caroline smoked, and Jess noticed a slight tremor to her old friend’s head.

  ‘What do you really want?’ sighed Caroline as she dragged on her roll-up.

  ‘To see you. See how you are.’

  ‘You’re in the police’s pocket, though. You want to take Pan away from us for good. Silence him.’ Caroline sniffed. Loud and unselfconscious.

  ‘I’m not with the police. I’m an academic. Until a few days ago I was working at Cambridge.’

  This seemed to capture Caroline’s attention. ‘Wow.’ She paused for a moment. As if she’d glimpsed beyond the gate of Pitt’s Field and it was filled with wonder. ‘What subject do you teach?’

  ‘History. Anglo-Saxon, Norse and Celtic. All about gods and ancient tribes. You used to be into New-Age stuff at school, didn’t you?’

  Again, Caroline ignored the conversational lifeline. ‘Do you teach astrology?’

  Jess was accustomed to this question. She taught about paganism. It didn’t mean she was a pagan. ‘Well, astrology comes into it. So do sacrifices and rituals of all sorts.’

  ‘I wish I’d studied something like that.’

  ‘You could. You can.’

  ‘But I’m with Pan now.’ It might have been a curse or a blessing; whatever it was, it was final. ‘I’m number three.’

  ‘Number three?’

  ‘The third chosen.’

  ‘How long have you been with Pan?’

  Caroline shrugged slightly, making circles in the earth with her mouldered trainer.

  ‘Six months? A year?’ Please, thought Jess, don’t let it be more.

  Caroline screwed up her face. Thinking didn’t come easy. ‘Three years. Yeah. More, maybe.’

  ‘What’s your daughter’s name?’

  ‘Delphi.’

  Jess swallowed. ‘That’s a nice name. Who’s Delphi’s dad?’

  Caroline just looked at her.

  ‘Is she his? Is she Pan’s?’

  ‘All the children are Pan’s children. Apart from Holly. And George. The ones you were talking to.’ Caroline was shifty. As if there were unfriendly ears in the trees.

  ‘What did they mean by no-more times?’

  Caroline shook her head, emphatic.

  ‘Caroline, please. This is important. Do you know who Pan really is? I do. His name’s Kevin. He’s a criminal. He’s dangerous. He’s hurt people in the past and he went to jail for it. He’s a conman and a thug. He’s under suspicion for three murders. He’s not a guru.’

  Caroline found her tongue. ‘You want him gone because he doesn’t fit the narrow pattern of capitalism. Because he teaches everything you’re afraid of.’

  ‘Why would I be afraid? Does it scare you?’ Jess felt as if she was on to something. ‘Are you afraid when you take part in hieros gamos, Caroline? Does it lead to something worse?’

  ‘I’m not allowed to talk about hieros gamos.’

  Even from his cell, Pan issued orders.

  ‘What he teaches is made up on the spot.’ Jess tried to remain ration
al. Hard, when she wanted to shake Caroline. ‘Even he doesn’t believe it. It doesn’t mean anything.’

  ‘But it does mean something. To us. To me.’ Caroline struck her chest. She was awake now. ‘Everything before Pan. That was made up. That was meaningless. School, teachers, parents, marriage. I had to get away from . . .’ She struggled. Waved her arms to encompass what she had escaped. ‘. . . them. Pan was what I needed. He understands.’

  Jess saw how much Caroline’s animation had taken out of her. The woman subsided. Her hands trembled and her face twitched. Gentler now, Jess asked, ‘What are you taking? What does he give you?’

  ‘We breathe from crystals.’

  Jess buried her head in her hands. ‘Fuck.’

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t get it.’

  Jess tugged Caroline’s arm. ‘Meth, Caroline? Jesus Christ. We can leave now, with Delphi. You can stay at mine. DS Eden will keep you safe and social services will, I don’t know, rehouse you. You’re not safe here. We can go right now.’ She stood up, still holding onto Caroline. ‘This minute.’

  Caroline shook her off. ‘Pan’s always right. He prophesied you’d come with your lies and try to take me away from him. He warned us there’d be no-more times. Taught us to prepare.’

  ‘What is bloody no-more times?’ Jess was out of patience.

  ‘Armageddon’s coming, Jess. You won’t survive. Only believers will be left. Me. The others. The kids. Pan’s kids, that is.’

  ‘This is rubbish, Caroline. Pan’s an unimportant speck of a man.’ Jess frowned. ‘Only Pan’s kids? Not little Holly and George? Does that sound fair to you?’

  ‘Look, when Pan is taken from us, no-more times begin. That’s why we made sacrifices.’

  ‘What sort of sacrifices?’

  ‘Pan says it’s not for your ears. You wouldn’t understand.’ Caroline swiped a hand over her face. ‘The sacrifices ward off no-more times.’

  ‘It doesn’t work, does it? He’s in custody.’

  ‘He’s been framed by your pig friends. He really was here with us the night that weatherman was killed. I was right beside him.’

  ‘What night was that?’ Caroline didn’t answer. Jess asked, ‘What day is it?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Caroline.

  It would matter in court. It mattered right now. Jess couldn’t believe the alibi no matter how genuinely Caroline gave it.

  ‘It’s our fault he’s in prison. He warned us it would fail if we didn’t believe enough.’

  The circularity of Caroline’s reasoning was stifling. Jess had run out of arguments. Time to beg. ‘Please. For Delphi’s sake. Just come with me and I’ll make it all all right somehow.’

  Caroline shook her twitchy head again. Unmoved by Jess’s urgency.

  ‘I can help you be old Caroline again.’ Jess bent to put her arms around her friend.

  Caroline nestled her head against Jess’s waist. ‘It’s too late, Jess. It’s all decided. Old Caroline’s dead.’

  ‘You heard her.’ String Bean was back. She grabbed Delphi by her chubby hand. ‘What’s done is done. So sod off. And you,’ she gestured at Caroline. ‘There’s pots need washing.’

  One last try. ‘Caroline?’

  Caroline Mansfield, her sixth-form friend, the girl who’d fancied the head boy and was sick after her first shandy, didn’t even look at her as she walked away.

  Eden placed his briefcase on the passenger seat. Sat back. About to turn the key in the ignition, he detected movement in his rear-view mirror. He waited like a good detective.

  The car park was quiet. The floodlights threw intensely bright circles on the dark ground. He’d seen something. A twig-like limb put down and withdrawn around the side of the nick.

  The leg returned. Three more followed. Darling trotted into the car park.

  Squeezers emerged. He slunk across the road and clung to the wall of the police station. Watching, Eden was treated to a poor man’s Bourne Identity. Squeezers tiptoed, his finger to his lips. He stopped and bent to put his finger to the dog’s lips.

  Reaching the door of the station, Squeezers pulled a plastic bag from under his trench coat. He carefully placed the something on the step and minced at speed towards the car park exit.

  Eden stepped out of his car. ‘All right, what’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing bad, sir. Just my evening constitutional. Making sure my Darling here gets a stretch of her legs. Nothing suspicious or bad in any way, you’ll find.’

  ‘You take your constitutional in the police station car park?’

  ‘I like the ambiance.’

  ‘What’s in the bag you just put on the step?’

  ‘Did I put a bag? Did I? I didn’t notice, sir. On the step, sir? Maybe I’m losing my marbles.’ Squeezers knocked his head with his knuckles. ‘I’m not getting any younger, you know.’

  ‘None of us are.’ Eden closed his car door. Gently. Squeezers was as skittish as a pigeon. ‘Let’s you and me go inside and see what you’ve delivered.’

  Squeezers froze on the spot. ‘I will, sir. But,’ he blinked rapidly, ‘I didn’t do it.’

  ‘What didn’t you do, Squeezers?’

  ‘The eyes. In the box. Horrible they are, horrible. All covered in blood and bits. I found them in the playground round the back of Conscience Lane. On the roundabout. But it wasn’t me that took them out of his head, sir. I swear on my life.’ He looked down at his dog, who looked trustingly back. ‘On my Darling’s life.’

  Darling raised her ears at the mention of her name.

  Eden slipped on a pair of plastic gloves he plucked from, appropriately enough, the glove compartment. Carefully, he picked up the bag and extracted a small wooden box. With a pen from his lapel pocket, he opened its lid. He frowned. With a sigh, he asked, ‘Squeezers, where are the eyes?’

  ‘Before you get angry, Mr Eden sir, in her defence, Darling was very hungry when we found them.’

  ‘Oh God,’ said Eden.

  Darling licked her lips.

  Chapter 23

  TOO CRAZY FOR MANSON

  Still Monday 30 May

  ‘Okay Squeezers,’ said Eden. ‘The recorder’s running. Jess is here. I’m all ears. Nice and slow. No pressure. Just explain, in your own words, how you came to find the box.’

  Squeezers’ voice was forty-a-day-for-forty-years raspy. ‘It was a dark and stormy night. Only it was morning. This morning. Around seven a.m., I believe, sir. I was taking Darling for her morning walk round the playing field. Not another soul to be seen. Darling became restless and started pulling me towards the playground. She’s an elegant lady but strong. She pulled me towards the roundabout. On the roundabout lay a box. I thought there might be jewellery in it, something I could sell, I mean, take directly to you, Detective Inspector Sergeant sir. But what I saw sent a shiver right through me, sir. I was shook to me core.’

  DC Knott fingered her notes. ‘Why’s your dog called Darling?’

  The question confused Squeezers.

  Eden didn’t want a confused Squeezers. ‘It’s just a name, Knott,’ he said. ‘Let’s focus on the box, shall we? Squeezers, it rained overnight. Was the box wet?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I do believe it was. Or was it? Yes. It definitely was. I think.’

  Knott butted in. ‘If you were so shocked when you opened the box, why’d you eat the eyes?’

  Eden curled his fingers into a fist. ‘Knott. He didn’t eat the eyes. The dog ate the eyes.’

  Knott was on a roll. A peculiar roll. ‘Why were you walking your dog so early? In a children’s play area to boot?’

  ‘For God’s sake, Knott. He was walking his dog like dozens of people do every day. I’ll ask the questions, okay?’

  Knott eyed Jess, who was careful to hide her pleasure at this exchange.

  ‘You opened the box,’ encouraged Eden. ‘What did you see?’

  ‘Two eyeballs, sir. There were straggly bits coming off them, covered in blood. Horrible it was.’

 
‘Before Darling ate them, did you get a chance to see the colour of the eyes?’

  ‘I think they were blue, sir. But I can’t be sure.’

  ‘Shane Harper had blue eyes,’ said Jess.

  ‘Why didn’t you bring in the box immediately? Why wait, and then try to dump it on the step?’

  Squeezers’ face was awash with panic. ‘I never done it, sir. Is that what you think? I wouldn’t do something like that. I know I don’t always do right, but never something to hurt a person.’

  ‘If you were innocent, why did you wait?’

  Squeezers’ eyes filled up. ‘I was scared. When Darling ate them, I knew I’d be in trouble. She’s always getting me into trouble. I wish sometimes I’d never married her.’

  Nobody commented. Nobody felt able to.

  DC Knott seized her opportunity. ‘Where were you on the night of Friday the twenty-seventh?’

  ‘I wasn’t nowhere, miss.’

  ‘Help me out here, Squeezers,’ said Eden. ‘All you have to do is say where you were on Friday night. Druid’s Head? Seven Stars?’

  Squeezers hung his head.

  ‘If you won’t tell me, I can’t help you.’

  A knock at the door made Squeezers jump. A uniformed officer leant in.

  ‘Sarge, you may want to have a look at this CCTV we’ve got.’

  ‘Not now.’ Eden was gruff.

  ‘No, really, Sarge. I think you should.’

  Eden sighed. ‘Go on.’

  A laptop was placed on the table. On the screen was grainy footage from a garden centre security camera. Two fuzzy individuals were easy to identify as Squeezers and his sometimes cohort Ryan. They were attempting to load barrels onto a pickup trunk. The barrels dropped. Rolled. Smashed. None made it onto the truck.

  Squeezers attempted insouciance.

  ‘Kidbury Nurseries reported a break-in on Friday night. Said several barrels of weedkiller had been disturbed,’ said the officer.

  ‘Weedkiller? What would you want with that, Squeezers?’ asked Eden.

  Squeezers spoke low. ‘If Beefy Dave finds out I’ve talked to you there’s no knowing what’ll happen to me. I don’t know what he wanted it for, sir. He never tells me.’ Squeezers looked shiftily about the room. ‘Says I’m better off if I don’t know.’

  ‘Look at the time stamp,’ said Jess. ‘The twenty-seventh, at twenty-one thirty.’