by Kim M Watt
“I’m okay,” she said to no one in particular, and blinked at the big metal drums stacked from one side of the shed to another, two and three high in some places. The whole place was ripe with fumes, and she nudged the hose that had tripped her with one foot. It was heavy and insulated, and there were rolls of plastic stacked against the wall. It didn’t look very farm-y to her, but she wasn’t a farmer. The closest she’d come was raising an orphaned lamb when she was little. It had run away before it was properly weaned, and she still harboured doubts about the sudden increase in lamb her family had eaten over the next few weeks.
She hurried out of the shed, and found Alice waiting expectantly by the car. “Have you seen anyone, Miriam?”
“No, no one, but the barn’s locked. And there’s drums of stuff in this one.”
“I’ve not been in, but looks like the house is empty,” Alice said, opening the back of the car for the dragons. “Everything seems to have just been dropped. A pair of socks on the stairs, a half-drunk tea in the sink.”
Beaufort examined the yard from the vantage point of the car, his eyes bright and interested, and Mortimer slunk reluctantly to the ground then padded toward the house. “Hang about, lad,” the High Lord said. “I’m coming too.” He jumped down, his wings wide enough that Miriam had to duck, and Alice opened the gate to let them in.
They trailed around the house to the back, where Alice fished a key out from under an old pot and opened the door to the kitchen. A mat still collected mud next to a rack for coats and a shelf for boots, but the hooks and spaces were empty.
“I say,” Beaufort said. “How did you know that’d be there?”
“Around here, there’s always a spare key hidden about the place. If it’s even locked.” She stood back to let the dragons lead the way, and they ambled into the empty kitchen to sit back on their hindquarters and look over the counters.
Dragons catch the traces of emotions the way a dog can catch scent, but they fade in strange ways, strong emotions lingering disproportionately. “There are little bits of happiness everywhere,” Mortimer said, examining a series of lines drawn on a door frame, names and dates written next to them. “Or contentment, maybe. It smells like small flowers in quiet places.”
“But why would they leave if they were content?” Miriam asked. “Something must have happened.”
“Something did,” Beaufort said. “But it’s hard to tell. There were a lot of worries. A lot of stress. Sadness. It’s everywhere, like moths. It’s sort of overwhelming whatever might have forced them out, this constant background of it.”
“So you can’t smell violence, or fear?” Alice asked.
Beaufort looked at Mortimer, who shook his head. “No. It doesn’t mean it wasn’t here, just that everything else is swamping it. I don’t think they were hurt. That would be much stronger.”
Mortimer wandered into the hall and to the front door, his nose lifted high, and he stopped there, tipping his head from side to side like a dog hearing a noise. “It’s here,” he said.
“What?” Miriam asked, clutching the rake a little tighter. “Oh no, something awful did happen, didn’t it?”
“Despair,” Mortimer said. “Defeat.”
Miriam hoped the dragons wouldn’t tell them what it smelled like. She almost thought she could feel it, pressing in on her from all sides.
“Can you tell what happened?” Alice asked.
“No,” Beaufort said. “But something did. They weren’t hurt, but they were forced off somehow. Made to think that to stay was hopeless. It’s the smell of giving up. Like—”
“I’m going outside,” Miriam said.
She retreated out the back door and sat in the garden, looking at the cheery flowerbeds without seeing them, still holding the rake. It made her feel slightly better, as if she could ward off whatever hopelessness had touched the house and the people in it. She was suddenly, inexplicably tired, and she wished they’d had a cup of tea before leaving.
She glimpsed Alice at an upstairs window, just a swirl of grey hair and teal cardigan, but otherwise it was still. A bird came to investigate the feeder, chattered warningly at Miriam, then moved on to splash in the bird bath. She watched it scattering life around its tiny form, and she almost cried out when the back door opened and it fled.
“Are you alright, Miriam?” Alice asked.
“Yes. It was just a bit much. Did you find anything else?” she asked, although she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.
“No,” Beaufort said, “but let’s see if we can sniff out anything in the sheds.” He headed around the house, Alice striding after him.
Mortimer looked up at Miriam and said, “Are you alright?”
“I just feel … icky. Like we’re trespassing on memories or something.”
Mortimer nodded. “We might be helping, though.”
Miriam sighed. “I hope so.”
They followed the others, Miriam stooping slightly to rest one hand on Mortimer’s back. His warmth seemed to seep to somewhere deeper than her bones.
12
Alice
“Sheep,” Beaufort announced.
“So many sheep,” Mortimer agreed, making a face.
The two dragons had their noses lifted to the air as they left the gate and ambled into the yard.
“But were they scared, maybe? Or traumatised?” Miriam asked. She was still holding onto a rake as if just waiting for the chance to hit someone with it. Alice approved.
“Have you met a sheep?” Beaufort asked. “They’re always scared. People scare them. Birds scare them. Dragons scare them.”
Alice thought the last was probably rather wise historically, even if they were fairly safe around modern dragons.
Mortimer had trotted ahead to the burned-out shed, and now he stopped a healthy distance away. “It doesn’t make any sense,” he said.
“What doesn’t?” Alice asked.
“It’s just all … I don’t know. Not upset.”
Alice frowned at him. That seemed a terribly wishy-washy way to put things.
“Business,” Beaufort announced. “Business as usual. That’s what it smells like. Rubber stamps and leaky pens.”
“So it wasn’t an accident?” Alice asked. “Someone did that deliberately?”
“I think it’s a fair guess.”
Miriam shivered almost theatrically and looked around. “What an awful thing to do.”
“It might have been an insurance claim,” Alice said, but she doubted it. Not given what the dragons had told them of the dryad’s story. She wondered if dryads were fairly reliable. It wasn’t a question she’d ever had to ask herself before.
“Anything’s possible,” Beaufort said, and followed Mortimer over to the next shed.
“That’s got the drums in it,” Miriam said, and Mortimer stuck his head in the door then spluttered, backing away from it hurriedly.
“Ugh, that’s awful,” he said. “It’s made my eyes go funny.”
Beaufort squinted at him. “They look fine to me, lad. But I can smell it from out here, and it’s too strong. We won’t catch any proper scents through it. Let’s try the barn instead.”
“It’s locked,” Miriam said.
“Oh, well,” Mortimer said. “That’s a shame.”
“Not like you to give up so easy, lad,” Beaufort said, and led the way around to the side door.
“I did say,” Miriam said, as the High Lord examined the padlock.
“Ah, bad luck,” Mortimer said.
Beaufort gave the lock an experimental rattle, then shoved. The door bounced open with the sound of screws tearing and boards splintering, and he gave them a toothy grin. “Wood’s a bit rotten.”
“Really, Beaufort,” Alice said. “Hardly subtle.”
“They’re going to know we’ve been here!” Mortimer said. He’d been doing quite well at maintaining the muddy brown of the farmyard, but now he flushed anxious grey so quickly Alice thought he might faint.
�
��What, dragons? No one’s going to expect dragons.”
“Quite true,” Alice said, although the broken lock would indicate someone had been there. But it was a bit late to worry about it now. Beaufort vanished inside, the door swinging in his wake, and she followed him into the near-dark of the interior, clicking on the light on her phone and raising it to a reveal a horde of beasts lying in wait. “Oh,” she said, hearing Miriam give a little squeak next to her and Mortimer say something unrepeatable.
The barn still had the damp woolly smell of sheep, but inside machines were lined up shoulder to shoulder, dead headlights reflecting her light blindly back at her. There were diggers and forklifts and bulldozers, all looking terribly glossy and shiny and very much unused. She counted them, coming up with fifteen machines, which seemed excessive. She didn’t know a single farmer that could afford all these new machines, let alone use them all.
“What are they doing here?” Mortimer whispered, as if afraid to wake sleeping monsters.
“Waiting,” Beaufort said.
“What for?”
“I rather think that’s what we need to find out,” Alice said.
“This makes no sense,” Miriam said. “Why force the family out? Why sneak the machines in?”
“Do you remember what I said about it being better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission?”
“Oh no.”
Alice nodded. “I think this is connected to the council. I think the bribes were to get councillors to turn a blind eye while they “accidentally” start preparing the land, and there’ll be a little mix-up, and it’ll be in quite the wrong place to what they applied for, but by then it’ll be too late for anyone to do anything except maybe fine them.”
“They can’t do that,” Mortimer said.
Beaufort gave an enormous, toothy smile. “Well then,” he said. “We better do something about it, hadn’t we?”
Miriam and Mortimer sighed in unison.
They filed out into the early evening light, and Beaufort headed for the final shed. Alice started to follow, then paused. She’d heard a car go past on the road beyond the farm track earlier, but this sound was steadier, and growing. “Wait.”
“Oh no – is someone coming?” Miriam asked.
Alice walked across the farmyard, peering down the track. Yes, it was unmistakable now. A car engine, rumbling powerfully, approaching fast. Alice wondered if it was just bad timing, or if there were cameras in the sheds. Either way, it was too late now. “Back into the car,” she said to the dragons, and they fled to the SUV, not even Beaufort arguing. Miriam hurried after them, closing the back door and hiding them from even perceptive eyes behind the tinted window. Alice crossed to the gate, and by the time the car pulled up she was opening it, smiling at the occupant. “Hello there,” she called. “Are you looking for the Elliots, too?”
The man didn’t return the smile, just pulled into the yard and stopped in the middle. He got out, big and bearded, inspecting the women with a frown on his face. “I’m not looking for anyone. I’m the new owner.”
“Oh, how lovely.” Alice advanced with her hand held out. “Alice Martin. Chair of the Toot Hansell W.I.”
The man studied her for a moment, then said, “You’re trespassing.”
She put both hands on the head of her cane, the tip resting in the dirt between her feet. “We’re fundraising for the church. We just wanted to stop by and see if the Elliots had anything they’d like to donate to the charity sale next month. But as they’re gone, I don’t suppose you have anything to hand, Mr …?” She trailed off expectantly and he scowled at her, then at Miriam, who had her teeth bared in something that was supposed to be a smile. He stared at her for a moment, then looked back at Alice.
“No. Not interested. Don’t come back here.”
“Understood. Terribly sorry to inconvenience you. Perhaps you’d like to pop by the fete—”
“Get out.” He didn’t raise his voice. He seemed like the sort of person who rarely needed to.
She smiled up at him. “Of course. Please accept our apologies.” She walked back to the SUV, feeling the man’s glare on her back and seeing Miriam scrambling in the passenger side. She lost one flip-flop in the process and had to go back for it. Alice paused, turning slowly on her heel.
“Just a question, though. Purely out of interest.”
“Alice,” Miriam hissed from the car.
“I told you to get out.” His voice rumbled in his chest, low and menacing, and answering rumbles came from the back of the SUV. Alice held one hand out behind her in a very small gesture of stop.
“Where have all the sheep gone? What on earth will you do with an empty farm?”
The man looked at the ground and shook his head. “Bloody small towns. Chair of the gossip council, did you say? None of your business, Alice Martin. Now get off my property before I call the police on you.”
Alice smiled. “Well, we wouldn’t want that.”
“You certainly wouldn’t.” The man folded his arms and rocked back on his heels. “Off you go now.”
Alice climbed into the SUV and backed around, leaning out the window to say, “You’ll close the gate for us, won’t you?”
The man waved them off, watching as they drove away. In the rear-view mirror, Alice saw him take his phone from his pocket and make a call.
“Ooh, Alice!” Miriam dropped back in her seat, pressing one hand to her chest. “What on earth were you doing?”
Alice gave her an amused look. “The worst thing one can do is look guilty.”
“But you gave him your real name and everything!”
“Of course I did. Nothing to be gained from hiding. Besides, he thinks I’m just some local busybody now.”
No one answered for a moment, then Miriam looked at the dragons. “What did you think?”
“I couldn’t catch much from in the car,” Beaufort said. “He just seemed as he was. A big angry man. Nothing unusual about that at all.”
“So you couldn’t tell if he was involved in forcing them off the land or anything?”
Beaufort raised his eyebrow ridges at her. “It’s scents, Miriam. Not magic.”
Miriam sighed and said, “Can we go home now?”
“I think that sounds like an excellent idea,” Alice said.
As they turned down the lane to Miriam’s house Alice spotted a very familiar dark blue VW Golf sitting outside the little gate, both front doors open. A leg protruded from each, and as they drew closer the legs were joined by the bodies of the two detective inspectors.
“Oh no,” Miriam wailed. “Oh, he did call the police!”
“Of course he didn’t, Miriam,” Alice said. “A person like that never calls the police.”
“Well, they’re here,” Miriam said, then sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“You need some tea,” Mortimer said. “Cake, too, most likely.”
Alice parked just behind the Golf, and DI Adams folded her arms as they got out. “I’ve been calling you all afternoon.”
Alice frowned, and retrieved her bag from the car. “Oh dear. It’s still on silent.” She had noticed the missed calls when she’d texted Miriam from the pub, but she’d had rather a lot to think about at the time.
“Oh dear,” DI Adams agreed.
“How about you, Auntie Miriam?” Colin demanded. “You didn’t answer either.”
“I think my phone’s still in the kitchen.” She seemed to have gone a little grey.
Alice let the dragons out of the car and said, “Shall we have that cup of tea, then?”
“Oh yes, please,” Mortimer said, and scooted for the gate, then yelped and jumped sideways. “Sorry, sorry,” he said to something Alice couldn’t see.
DI Adams shook her phone at Alice. “Phone on.”
“As you say.”
They sat around Miriam’s little, well-scrubbed kitchen table with mismatched mugs of tea and two banana cakes carved into generous slices. Mortimer was back on the rug in front
of the Aga, hugging his plate to his chest and staring mistrustfully at a spot on the floor. The spot had inhaled three slices of cake as they were handed to the dragons, so Alice felt he was probably right to be wary.
DI Adams leaned her forearms on the table and said, “I didn’t really want to meet here, but as we couldn’t get hold of either of you, we had no choice.”
“Why didn’t you want to meet here?” Miriam asked, carving another slice of cake.
“Because there have been developments. And it’s best if you’re not associated with the police, Alice.”
“I see,” Alice said, taking the knife from Miriam, who appeared to have seized up.
“You need to know that you can stand down at any time,” Colin said. His shoulders looked higher and tighter than usual.
“Well, that’s all very well, but I have no intention of doing so.”
“You might, after you hear what we’ve found out,” he said.
“We’ve found out a few things ourselves.”
DI Adams had picked up her mug, and now she all but slammed it down, tea slopping onto the table. “Tell me you haven’t been poking around. That was not the agreement.”
Alice gave the younger woman a cool look, but DI Adams returned it unflinchingly.
“Alice.”
“We just talked to Bryan. You’d already talked to him, after all.”
“No poking around. That’s what we said. No poking around!”