The Savages

by Matt Whyman

  ‘A feast,’ said Oleg, who clearly relished the word, much to Sasha’s discomfort.

  Titus seemed not to notice. Instead, he drew his only son to his side, glanced down the road to be sure the van had gone, and then clapped him on the shoulder.

  ‘You’ll always be safe in my care,’ he said, before addressing his whole family. ‘And I think we all know who should be on the menu.’

  Amanda Dias had been privately amused when Jack bailed from the pizza restaurant. Whatever the kid at the window wanted, it was obvious to her that he was calling all the shots. Jack hadn’t even offered an excuse. He’d simply rushed back for his coat, and left her with a series of half-finished apologies and a plea to catch up again very soon. Fortunately, he had told Amanda that he was a regular at the restaurant, given its impeccable vegetarian credentials. Sure enough, after she had finished her pizza, as well as what was left on his plate, the waiter assured her that Jack would settle the bill later.

  He was a little young for Amanda, but then she had no time for boyfriends at this moment in her life. There was a cause out there that needed her leadership. So many of her so-called friends had walked away as her views began to harden, but nothing could shake her belief that eating any animal product was fundamentally wrong and punishable. Jack was certainly attractive for his age, but Amanda was more interested in his potent mix of narcissism and enthusiasm for her crusade. As a result, she wasn’t flattered but intrigued when he approached her for lunch. Could this be the opportunity, she had thought to herself, to put her militant views into practice? It was something Amanda reflected on afterwards as she stopped by the market to shop for provisions. For too long, defenceless animals had been abused or slaughtered by man and served up on a plate. Cows, pigs, sheep and poultry were sentenced to appease our appetite through no fault of their own. Even the oceans provided no safe haven. In Amanda’s view, it left people like her with no choice but to wage war on the predators. Unlike any other species on this planet, humans possessed the intelligence to make choices about what they ate. Food had to come with a conscience, she believed, and if people wouldn’t listen they would have to pay the price.

  Naturally, Amanda wasn’t stupid. She had no intention of actually taking a life. That was down to the foot soldiers. Those who possessed the will, perhaps, but required a little guidance and encouragement to fulfil their true calling. Jack Greenway struck her as an impressionable young man with potential. Clearly, he had designs on sleeping with her, but that was also something she could use to her advantage. Amanda smiled to herself as she pondered her plan on the bus journey back to the university campus. She was well aware that grooming him would require a promise of quite a reward, and then decided on arriving outside her hall of residence that it had to be worth the investment.

  This was largely down to the fact that Jack Greenway was waiting for her at the main doors. Standing beside his hybrid, he looked restless, wired, and a little nervous, all of which seemed to melt away when Amanda beamed at him.

  24

  Sometimes, Vernon English was thankful that he lived alone. His marriage had crashed long ago, but at least he was free to transform the lounge in his flat into an incident room without being made to take down all the photographs and notes he’d taped to the wall. This wasn’t something he’d done before, but the Savage case was beginning to consume him.

  ‘What am I missing?’ he asked himself, sitting back on his sofa with his feet on the coffee table. The wall opposite was plastered with long-range snaps of the family, including Oleg and Jack Greenway, as well as magazine adverts featuring Lulabelle Hart. He’d pencilled arrows between some pictures, and on others added colour-coded cards with his thoughts on them. Most made sense at the time. Looking at it all now, the private investigator could be sure of only one thing: he’d need a professional decorator to restore the room once he’d cracked this case.

  Leaning forward, with his eyes locked on the wall, Vernon reached for the burrito in the box on the table. It had been cold for some time, but even though he’d been distracted he wasn’t going to give up on it. Chewing on his takeaway supper, the private investigator focused his attention on the section of the wall devoted to Titus Savage. The man was behind the death of the model, and he would not rest until he’d uncovered evidence to prove it.

  At the same time, Vernon could not ignore the fact that he was a little jealous. Titus was a success in the City, where being ruthless was basically a virtue, while at home he showed a different side entirely and his family clearly adored him for it.

  ‘Some people have it all,’ he muttered, and eased himself to his feet. ‘Others make do with the leftovers.’

  Taking himself to the window overlooking the pound shop on the high street with the sale on, Vernon pressed his forehead to the glass and sighed. He kept a handful of pictures in simple wooden frames on the ledge in front of him. All of them were taken during his marriage, from the honeymoon to the last Christmas they’d spent together. In each one, the face of his ex-wife had been carefully obliterated with marker pen. As far as he was concerned, she no longer existed. Even so, he wasn’t prepared to deny himself the fact that he had once shared his life with someone special. He picked up one of the frames and studied it. Had things worked out between them, he too could’ve been a loving father. Whatever Titus hid from the world, Vernon English could only begrudgingly admire his commitment in building a family and keeping it together.

  ‘What is your secret?’ Replacing the picture on the ledge, Vernon returned his attention to the wall. His eyes darted from one image to another, following pencil trails and then imagining fresh alternatives. Yet again, it just looked like a tangled mess. Vernon turned away, his thoughts switching to the possibility that there might be some hot sauce in the kitchen cupboard, and then came around full circle. ‘There it is,’ he said, and took a step back to gain some perspective. This time, he didn’t focus on individual surveillance shots or his scribbled hunches. He just stared at the little gap at the very heart of it all. All of a sudden, it looked like the eye of the storm. Vernon grabbed a pen from the top of the TV and scribbled one word in the space. He underlined it with a slash before standing back once again. Everything he had discovered about the family was tied to it in some way. What he’d missed until now was that it had to include the death of Lulabelle Hart.

  ‘Food,’ declared Vernon, reading it out loud as if that might help bring him clarity. It didn’t prove anything, but just then there was something in it that the private investigator pledged to pick apart. ‘Food is the key,’ he said with some confidence, and glanced at a shot of Titus once more, ‘or I’ll eat my words.’

  A cheer broke out from the boys who had gathered on one side of the skateboard ramp. One of their number had just pulled a frontside five-forty turn. It was an impressive trick, but went completely ignored by the girls opposite. Sasha Savage, Maisy and Faria sat across from them with their backs turned, elbows flat on the safety rail and their feet dangling over the drop. They were on lunch break, talking about everything and nothing in particular.

  ‘You’re quiet,’ Faria said to Sasha. ‘Everything all right?’

  ‘I’m good,’ Sasha replied. ‘Just hungry.’

  Faria offered her a cigarette.

  ‘It’ll kill your appetite,’ she said. ‘And then some.’

  Sasha smiled but declined the offer.

  ‘She’s waiting for Jack,’ said Maisy, and flashed them both a look. ‘It would be rude to eat now if he’s planning on sharing his lunchbox with you.’

  Everyone giggled at this, including Sasha.

  ‘Seriously, he’s been good like that,’ said Faria. ‘Why can’t he do the same thing for us two?’

  ‘Because we eat meat,’ Maisy said, as if to remind her. ‘Plus he doesn’t fancy us.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘When was the last time you saw the inside of his car? Sasha’s the only one who gets a ride in there.’

  ‘Mai
sy!’ Sasha pretended to look scandalised, only for Faria to adopt a charitable expression. Sasha picked up on it straight away. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ Faria replied quickly, but found she couldn’t escape Sasha’s gaze. ‘Probably nothing, anyway.’

  ‘What nothing?’ asked Sasha.

  Faria sighed to herself.

  ‘My sister saw him at the weekend,’ she said. ‘He was up at the university campus. Dropping off some girl.’

  Faria stopped there and turned to Sasha as if perhaps she could provide an explanation.

  ‘Jack was upset with me the last time I saw him,’ she said, thinking back to that moment in the house, ‘but he wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘It was his hybrid,’ insisted Faria. ‘For sure.’

  Sasha held Faria‘s searching gaze for a moment more, and then broke off with a shrug.

  ‘You don’t seem too concerned,’ said Maisy.

  ‘It’s probably something to do with his new vegan regime,’ said Sasha. ‘Jack is taking things much further with his food than I’m prepared to go, but I’m sure he’ll have an explanation. I’ll ask when I see him.’

  ‘Why was he upset with you?’ asked Faria.

  ‘Not me as such,’ said Sasha. ‘My brother confessed to a practical joke he’d played on him.’

  Both Faria and Maisy sucked the air between their teeth.

  ‘Did Jack suffer any injuries?’ Faria enquired.

  ‘He’ll survive,’ said Sasha, and winced to herself at the memory of the knife she’d pulled without thinking.

  ‘Whatever the case, he’s late,’ said Maisy, checking the time on her phone. ‘He’s usually here for you by now.’

  Leaving straight after morning lessons, Jack Greenway’s journey from school to the university took twenty minutes. The journey was unplanned, but he felt compelled to catch up with the young woman who had moved into his thoughts. Amanda Dias wasn’t hard for him to track down. He found her handing out leaflets at the main entrance to campus.

  ‘Do you drink milk?’ she asked Jack when he trotted up to greet her.

  ‘Sometimes,’ he said hesitantly. ‘I should stop that, too, shouldn’t I?’

  ‘It would be kinder on cattle to drink their blood,’ she said. ‘Did you know that in some industrial dairies calves are forcibly removed from their mothers so they don’t drink from the udder. It might mean a higher volume of milk for the farmers, but how would you like to be taken from the teat?’

  ‘Me? Oh …’ Jack wasn’t sure if this was a direct question. He had planned a conversation on the way to campus, but mostly it involved what nice weather they were having. ‘I don’t know,’ he said hesitantly. ‘Thirsty?’

  Amanda thrust a leaflet into his hands.

  ‘You’ll find all the facts here.’

  Jack looked down at the leaflet, his focus swimming.

  ‘Give me a handful,’ he said. ‘I’ll hand them out at school.’

  Finally, Amanda offered him a smile.

  ‘It’s good to see you,’ she said. ‘I enjoy our chats.’

  For several days now, Jack had sought out Amanda and treated her to everything from coffee to lunch and supper. Every time they visited a café, bar or restaurant of her choosing. Jack spent much of the time just listening to her views on man’s crimes against the natural world. He made all the right noises as she laid out her vision for a vegan society, in which compassion towards animals replaced their suffering. He even kept up the enthusiasm when she talked about how to achieve her dream. Privately, all the stuff about waging war against the worst offenders Jack took with a pinch of salt. It was the force of her convictions he found entrancing, plus the fact that up close Amanda Dias was hot as hell.

  ‘I couldn’t wait until this evening,’ he said just then. ‘I needed to see you.’

  Amanda handed a leaflet to a passing student. The guy tried to avoid it, but she was insistent.

  ‘I thought lunchtimes were reserved for your girlfriend,’ she said.

  ‘My girlfriend?’ Jack tried to look as baffled as possible. ‘Oh! You mean Sasha? She’s not really my girlfriend as such—’

  ‘Really? You looked like a couple at the lecture.’

  ‘We’re just, y’know …’

  ‘Friends?’

  Jack grinned. After the episode in the Savages’ kitchen, he wasn’t even sure he could bring himself to speak to Sasha again. Her brother’s prank with the tea still made him feel queasy, and the kid would get a kicking for it at a later date, but above all he’d struggled to shake off the memory of that look she had given him. Jack couldn’t put his finger on it, and although he would never admit this Sasha had left him feeling a little bit frightened. The knife in her hand hadn’t helped, but he felt sure that wasn’t meant as a threat. After he’d left, she’d probably gone back to core an apple or something. Maybe chop some celery for that salad she’d been making.

  ‘I’ve been helping her to give up meat,’ he told Amanda, with some pride in his voice. Then he looked to the pavement and adopted a face as if what he had to say next was difficult. ‘We were good for a while, but … her family.’

  He stopped there and twisted a finger against the side of his head. Now he had Amanda’s complete attention.

  ‘So, they didn’t like losing a carnivore?’

  ‘Exactly that, I guess,’ said Jack. ‘Her dad in particular had a real problem with it. He’s one of those old-school meat eaters. Can’t accept that there’s a better way of living.’

  ‘Would you kill him?’

  The way she asked him this, in public and out of nowhere, took Jack’s breath away. He looked at Amanda, aghast for a moment, before checking he had heard her right.

  ‘Do you mean … for real?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Amanda stepped closer so she could murmur in his ear. ‘It would bring me closer to you.’

  Jack moved back to find her gaze once more. This fruit loop wasn’t joking, he thought to himself. The girl had it all worked out. She batted her eyelids at him, like the wings of a butterfly at rest.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ he said, despite having no intention of carrying out such a crime. ‘For you.’

  Amanda brushed Jack’s cheek with her lips.

  ‘For the environment,’ she said to correct him. ‘For a better world.’

  25

  As a hunter, Titus Savage had learned everything from his father. Over the decades, Oleg taught him how to trap his quarry and finish it off both quickly and humanely. From an early age, Titus learned that a noble cannibal showed respect towards a victim. You didn’t eat them alive. That kind of thing was the stuff of myth and legend. A modern-day flesh eater carried out careful preparations with a view to serving up a dish to die for.

  When it came to the kill, Titus considered himself a natural. As a boy, he’d taken to the pursuit with a perfectionist’s eye. It was something he had begun to pass on to his own son. In fact, as the family made plans for Katya’s celebratory feast, he intended to stand back and let Ivan do the honours. In a way, Titus decided, it would allow him to close the book on the accidental death of the model in the bathroom.

  Firstly, however, Titus had to identify the person they intended for the plate.

  ‘This man,’ he said to Ivan and Sasha at breakfast time that week. ‘Can you describe him to me?’

  Sasha thought back to the time he had entered the house disguised as a meter reader from the gas board.

  ‘Middle-aged,’ she said. ‘Tired-looking with quite a heavy-set face.’

  ‘He reminded me of a bloodhound,’ added Ivan. ‘Also he was wearing a hat when I saw him. Not a flat cap. Something funkier. A funky bloodhound.’

  Titus looked across at Angelica.

  ‘Sound familiar?’ he asked.

  ‘Nobody we know,’ she said. ‘So how do we find him?’

  Titus was at the French windows. He turned his back on his family for a moment, half wondering whether he should head upstairs and
consult his father. Back in the day, Oleg would leave the house at sundown and work under cover of darkness. In the morning, his wife would find a body laid out on the table, naked, washed and shaved from head to toe. Always the romantic, Oleg would pin a note to the chest of the corpse using the tip of a knife, dedicating the coming feast to her. Nowadays, of course, it simply wasn’t necessary to go stalking back alleys for the drunks and the dispossessed. With access to the internet, it was perfectly possible for Titus to source someone of better quality who met their requirements perfectly. In particular, the social networks provided Titus with everything he needed to know about their health, wellbeing and background. He could work out their movements and, of course, assess friendships. Anyone too popular was off the menu. You didn’t want their disappearance to spark headlines, campaigns and vigils, just an entry in the missing persons register that would gather dust over time.

  ‘There’s only one thing we know for sure about this guy,’ said Ivan, who drew his father’s attention once more. ‘He’s sexually attracted to me.’

  Titus sighed to himself.

  ‘I suspect that I’m his main person of interest,’ he said, before addressing Angelica once more. ‘This is business, I think.’

  ‘But Ivan may be on to something,’ she said. ‘Even if this does have something to do with your work, the fact is he followed our son.’

  ‘Because he’s the weakest link,’ suggested Sasha, who promptly received a kick under the table from her brother.

  ‘At least someone fancies me,’ he fumed. ‘When was the last time you saw your boyfriend? Even I’ve heard it’s finished, and nobody speaks to me at school!’

  ‘Mum,’ complained Sasha. ‘Tell him to stick to shifting chess pieces.’

  ‘Face it,’ grinned Ivan. ‘He’s over you.’

  ‘Lacing Jack’s tea hardly helped,’ she snapped at him.

  Ivan sat back in his chair, considering his sister.

  ‘But if he has dumped you,’ he said next with a sly glance at their father, ‘does that mean you’ll give up with the sausage dodging?’