The Games Keeper

by Jack Benton

  ‘Tom Jenkins,’ he said in a deep voice. He shook Slim’s hand in a powerful grip.

  Slim looked up into his eyes. ‘Thank you for not giving up,’ he said.

  Cathy frowned. ‘What’s this about, Tom?’

  Slim didn’t break his gaze. ‘Did you know I saw you that day?’

  ‘When?’

  ‘A couple of weeks back. I think it was a Tuesday. Right after lunch. I only saw your uniform but when I got hold of the profiles I knew it had to be you. Of those I couldn’t find online, four were women and the fifth was a sixty-four-year-old man. Tough for a guy that age to do what you did.’

  Tom stared at the ground like a school kid caught stealing.

  ‘I had no choice.’

  Cathy took his arm, leaning around to look up into his face. ‘Tom? Have you met Slim before?’

  As Tom gave a sullen shake of the head, Slim said, ‘The groundwater’s still infected, isn’t it? How many have you found?’

  Tom’s stature betrayed the defeat in his eyes. As Cathy watched him open-mouthed, he shook his head again.

  ‘Four this year. Two cancer, one stomach ulcer, one with polyps in the digestive tract. All four had access to the same water supply. The wells might be closed but the groundwater still shows the spill’s impact.’

  Slim nodded. ‘And you hide them.’

  Tom looked pained. ‘I don’t know what else to do.’

  Cathy said, ‘You told me you’d stopped! And after what happened to Dennis, Tom, I thought we agreed—’

  Slim stilled her with a hand on her arm. ‘Sometimes we can’t give something up, even when we want to, even when we know it would be for the best. Believe me, I know that better than anyone.’ Then, turning to Tom, he said, ‘You’re saving them for something.’

  ‘I can’t just let them go out to sale. Who knows what could be in that meat? But who would listen to me? Vincent’s is a closed shop. They’re all either in his pocket or Ellie’s. I hide them because I don’t know what else to do.’

  ‘Dennis had a plan, didn’t he? He had a contact.’

  Tom nodded. ‘He never told me who. But after he died, it never felt right to stop. I carried on in his memory. And I couldn’t just forget what those bastards had done.’

  ‘I have contacts,’ Slim said. ‘I can find someone who can analyse those carcasses, look for a connection.’

  At last Tom looked up. ‘The spill happened in 1994,’ he said. ‘They knew that stuff was borderline, but as the regs came close to passing the price of existing stock plummeted. They bought it up to save a few quid. Huh, not like the Ozgoods’ to do that, is it?’

  ‘You saw what happened?’

  ‘I was fresh out of school, working in haulage. Lorry bringing the stuff in round the back hit a rut. Ten barrels fell off, broke open. Most spilled into the ditch. Sure, once the fumes had eased they had us clean it up, but it was too late. It had leached into the ground. Oliver was between tours, lording it like Ellie does now. Gave us a payoff, told us to shut our mouths.’

  ‘And you did?’

  Tom shrugged. ‘It wasn’t until years later when Dennis came to see me, that I even thought about it. He wanted a man on the inside.’

  ‘You knew him?’

  ‘Same class at school. Though he was hardly ever there. Always off running around the woods. Boy could hardly read or write but he could identify a species of mushroom at a hundred yards.’

  Slim sighed. ‘This is a mess.’

  ‘Not wrong,’ Cathy said. ‘Not what you were hired to uncover, I expect.’

  Slim turned to Tom. ‘I was hired by Oliver Ozgood to uncover the identity of a blackmailer. In a roundabout way, I think I’ve done that.’

  The look in Tom’s eyes took a moment to change. ‘What … you don’t think…?’

  Slim held his gaze for a few seconds then shook his head. ‘I did, until I saw your reaction. I’ve interrogated possible terrorists. It’s hard to learn how to hide guilt. Most people can’t do it, and if there’s no guilt there, it’s easy to see.’

  Tom glared at him. ‘I’d be happy to see Ozgood behind bars for a long time. Otherwise, I want nothing from him. Getting the Ozgood family cloud away from Scuttleworth would be enough.’

  Slim nodded. ‘Then it seems I need to look elsewhere. I’ll be in touch.’

  55

  Slim sat in front of a laptop in the kitchen of Ozgood Hall. Even here the connection was far from perfect, so the lights had been dimmed as though that would make the exchange clearer. On the screen, however, even though Ollie Ozgood’s picture was a little pixilated, his expression was easy enough to read. He looked flustered, frustrated. He glared into a device at his end then continued pacing up and down the inside of a hotel room, the walls and occasional glimpse of a window flickering behind his profile.

  ‘So, you have no concrete proof of anything. You say you saw Sharp, but what did you see really? A tramp, a traveller? What am I paying you for? Where are the pictures? The evidence? A few wooden dolls lying around?’

  Slim hadn’t told Ozgood the specifics of what he had found, only that Sharp had left some woodcraft items for him to find.

  ‘I think he’s trying to contact me,’ Slim said. ‘But for whatever reason, he’s afraid.’

  ‘Yet he’s not afraid to take my money and threaten my family?’

  ‘His character is a hard one to figure out, I’ll admit.’

  Ozgood stopped pacing and turned to face the camera.

  ‘I have come to a regrettable decision. Less than forty-eight hours from now, I must leave a bag of money for Dennis Sharp. I refuse to be blackmailed, but I will offer an olive leaf. A partial settlement, and a note. One asking for discussion, compromise. I cannot wait any longer.’

  ‘And what should I do during this transaction?’

  ‘You?’ Ozgood laughed. ‘You’ll be gone. I paid for a result, but I got none. I expect your bags packed and you off my property by ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Croad will drive you to the nearest bus or train station if you so wish.’

  ‘But I’m close to a breakthrough.’

  ‘Not close enough. I have no patience for time wasters, Mr. Hardy. And Kay Skelton talked so highly of your detective skills.’

  ‘We need to discuss a fee.’

  Ozgood laughed. ‘What fee? I ordered a job done. It wasn’t done. From what Croad tells me, you’ve done little but wander around drunk and get in fights with the locals.’

  ‘I’ve been here more than three weeks!’

  ‘And I imagine having a roof and free food was of some comfort, wasn’t it?’

  Slim glared at the computer screen but kept his mouth shut. He had nothing to gain by berating Ozgood now. The smart option was to take his sanity and run.

  ‘Forget tomorrow,’ he said, throwing a glance at Croad, standing to the left in the shadows behind the laptop’s screen, arms folded, eyes down. ‘I’ll be out tonight.’

  56

  Croad offered him a lift back from Ozgood Hall to collect his stuff, but Slim refused. It was dark outside and he was desperate for a drink, so he walked in the opposite direction of where he might find one, taking winding lanes that led away from Ozgood Hall, stumbling through potholes in the darkness, letting his mind drift, not wanting to think about the case, but at the same time unable to get it out of his head. It was a jigsaw, all the pieces lying on the ground but some missing the pictures, others with the connecting nodes cut off, leaving Slim uncertain as to where they might fit. He was so close, he knew it, yet the answer lay just out of reach.

  He didn’t know how long he’d been walking, but the chill had set in by the time the roar of cars on the duel carriageway appeared and he found himself walking out onto the bridge where, on November 9th at 5.25 p.m, just under three days from now, the ghost of Dennis Sharp was expecting to pick up two million pounds in used banknotes, or threaten an exposé that would destroy the Ozgood family’s reputation.

  His head told him to walk a
way and not look back, but his heart was so entangled in the knot of Scuttleworth’s community that he had passed a point of no return.

  He counted along the pillars from the start of the bridge, and stopped by pillar number nine. With a long sigh, he turned and looked back at the lights of Ozgood Hall on the hill in the distance.

  In his pocket he had his old Nokia phone and a wallet containing an ATM card that didn’t work, along with a crumpled handful of bank notes from the last time it had. Everything Slim owned in the world. He had left behind the equipment Alan had sent, but he could pay that off later. There was nothing to stop him walking off across the bridge and never looking back.

  Slim took a deep breath, thinking about Mary Kent, who had jumped to her death from this very spot. If he walked away, her death, that of her son Colin, and numerous others, would be for nothing.

  With another sigh, he turned and started walking back in the direction of Scuttleworth.

  Clora sounded surprised but she buzzed him in anyway. As he reached the top of the stairs, breathing heavily under the weight of two large canvas bags, she sat up in her chair and fixed him with a bemused look. She was wearing pajamas, but otherwise everything about her was the same.

  ‘And to what do I owe this unexpected visit? You do know it’s almost midnight?’

  Slim put down his bags, took a moment to gather his breath, and then said, ‘I need a place to stay for a couple of nights. Three at the most. I’ll be gone by Tuesday, I promise.’

  Clora lifted an eyebrow. ‘Why me?’

  Slim smiled. ‘Because of everyone I’ve encountered in Scuttleworth, you’re the one who hates me the least.’

  57

  Clora seemed happy to have a house guest. The next morning, she kindly allowed Slim to make them both breakfast then instructed him to shift aside a pile of boxes to make a proper space for his things. Just after ten o’clock she informed him of some shows she needed to watch, and as he wanted to make a couple of phone calls, he made himself scarce, heading back up to the village.

  A light rain was falling. Slim sheltered in the church porch while he called Don.

  ‘Thanks as always, mate,’ he said. ‘Things are going well, but I still need a couple more things figured out. This might sound strange, but can you try to find out if a man called Thomas Croad was on the books at QPR back in the Eighties, when they were still a decent team?’

  Don laughed. ‘That’s one of your strangest for sure, but I’ll do my best to get back to you this aft.’

  ‘Appreciated.’

  Slim hung up. Next he tried to call Kay but received no answer. He sighed, wondering what to do. He wanted to go and see Cathy, perhaps apologise for his accusations against Tom, but he could only see it going the wrong way. Instead he headed to the community hall. Pleased to find it empty, he pulled out a folder from his bag of all the documents he had taken from his table. Among them were the photocopies of the letters supposedly sent by Dennis Sharp to Ollie Ozgood. Slim stared at them, compelling them to reveal some clue, but nothing jumped out. Who was playing the game now, and who was keeping the clues?

  His phone rang. Kay.

  ‘Slim? Good to hear from you. I was worried after the other day.’

  ‘I screwed up, Kay. Sorry. I’m back on the wagon for a while now. I think. While you’re on the line, I need another favour. It’s a big one, I’m sorry. Do you know anyone who works specifically with toxic chemicals?’

  Kay laughed. ‘You don’t ask for much, Slim.’

  ‘I know. Any chance?’

  Kay sighed. ‘Not offhand, but I’ll do some reaching out.’

  ‘Thanks. One more question. You were in the military with Ollie Ozgood. You told me he left, but I heard he did another tour.’

  ‘He could have done. I don’t know. Again, I can ask some questions.’

  ‘What was his specialty? Do you know?’

  ‘Easy one. Radios. He was an operator, but also on maintenance detail. We always joked it was because he was scared of the front line.’

  ‘Maintenance?’

  ‘Yeah, things used to break a lot out there in the desert. Half the time he’d be sat in a room back at base rewiring stuff that had frayed.’

  Slim gave a thoughtful nod. ‘If you find out, please call me. I’m running down to the wire here.’

  ‘Is that a joke?’

  ‘I wish it was.’

  ‘Be careful, Slim. Ollie Ozgood is not a man I would ever trust.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’re a long way past that stage.’

  Slim hung up, returning to the letters. There had to be some clue to the blackmailer’s identity. A single slip, perhaps a misused word.

  Another resident had left a copy of yesterday’s newspaper open on the puzzles page, a crossword and some word anagram puzzle partially filled in. Slim stared at it, wishing the Ozgood mystery could be so straightforward, so streamlined, then turned back to the letters, thinking of puzzles, staring at the words, wishing some clue would reveal itself.

  He hadn’t realised how tired he was until his eyes began to droop. His vision blurred, the words losing their meanings, standing out at irregular intervals from the page in unusual orders like the keys of an inversed typewriter.

  And then he saw it.

  ‘Oh my god,’ he whispered.

  58

  ‘Is that something Den would have said?’

  Clora stared at the line of text Slim had scribbled on a piece of paper.

  Don’t forget how you hurt me.

  Clora shrugged. ‘I think you’re clutching at straws, but it makes a good puzzle.’

  ‘It fits,’ Slim said. ‘Someone left a newspaper open on the puzzles page, and it got me thinking about hidden codes. Cryptic stuff, the kind of thing you might hide in a Valentines’ card at school to a girl you liked. I read the words down the side, tried some combinations of numbers. A couple of words seemed not to fit with the tone of the previous letters. I tried a couple of combinations, some dates and times, and one fit.’

  ‘Okay….’ Clora was frowning. ‘Run that past me again.’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ Slim said. ‘The blackmailer’s assigned drop-off time. November ninth, at five twenty-five.’ He took a pen from a table beside the sofa and wrote out a date and time in numbers:

  9/11. 5.25.

  Then, he wrote them again as a simple line of digits:

  9/1/1/5/2/5.

  ‘It’s the same time and date as the drop off. Now look at the words I’ve underlined and see what sentence they spell. It can’t surely be a coincidence.’

  He held out a copy of the letter.

  Dear Oliver,

  This is your last chance to settle up. Don’t

  forget what you did to Scuttleworth, or

  how many lives you destroyed.

  It is time for you to pay for

  the hurt you caused. I’ve given you

  a chance to help me make amends.

  9th November, 5.25pm.

  A black leather bag tied to the ninth pillar.

  See you then.

  Dennis

  ‘It’s a bit flukey, isn’t it?’

  ‘But it fits. What if this date is significant to Dennis, or whoever he’s working with?’ Clora rolled her eyes. ‘You still think he’s alive, don’t you?’

  ‘Evidence suggests it, and there’s what I’ve seen with my own eyes.’

  ‘Slim, I’ve known you barely a month and even I can tell you have a habit of misreading things. What’s this proof?’

  ‘Here.’

  Slim pulled the dolls out of his pocket. ‘Shelly threw the first one at me, but the other two—the sheep and the burned boy—were left outside the cottage for me to find.’

  ‘By who?’

  ‘Dennis. I got it on video.’

  Clora looked skeptical. ‘Show me,’ she said. ‘I knew Dennis as well as anyone.’

  Slim pulled his laptop out of a bag, opened it, and loaded the recorded feed. He pressed play and
Clora frowned as the figure of Dennis Sharp appeared on screen, moving up the path and stopping low by the front door.

  ‘See?’

  Clora shook her head. ‘Can you zoom it in? I spend way more time staring at a screen than you do. I mean, those look like his clothes and he has the right build, but there’s no decent shot of his face.’

  ‘What about the doll?’

  Clora frowned. ‘Rewind it again.’ When Slim repeated the shot, Clora said, ‘Watch his hand as he bends down. You can just see it as he pulls it out of his pocket.’

  ‘It’s too blurry.’

  ‘Yeah, but you can see the greens of the trees in the background beside his fingers. Look closer.’

  Slim squinted at the screen. ‘What are you seeing?’

  ‘Nothing, that’s the point. His hand’s empty.’ Clora looked up. ‘He’s not putting that doll down. He’s picking it up.’

  Slim stared at her, then replayed the video. It was difficult to see, but there was a chance she was right.

  ‘Do you have any footage before that?’

  ‘The camera got knocked by a bird and it was swaying. That’s the only shot I got.’

  ‘You only had one camera? What kind of detective are you?’

  ‘I had another, but it showed the back of the house.’

  ‘Let me see.’

  Slim opened up the recorded feed and rewound it to the same approximate time. It had been tripped multiple times, all by birds.

  ‘Go back further,’ Clora said. ‘You can see the road past the side of the house. If someone came from Scuttleworth they would have come down that way.’

  Slim did as she asked. Thirty minutes before Dennis’s appearance, the camera had triggered. A shuffling figure in a coat appeared out of the trees, walking slowly down the road. The feed cut out as the figure moved in front of the house’s front corner, then it came back on again a couple of minutes later to show the figure walking back up the road.

  ‘I told you,’ Clora said. ‘I mean, it was obvious from the look of those dolls. Dennis was a craftsman, his figurines were amazing. These look like they were made by a kid.’