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Back at the house, I couldn’t settle and found myself pacing aimlessly through the rooms, picking up objects and putting them down without consciously noticing I was doing it, checking my watch every few minutes and racing to the window every time I convinced myself I heard a vehicle coming up the gravel road. I avoided looking over at the woolshed, riddled with a ridiculous paranoia that somehow, from the police station miles away, Carlton would see me looking at the shed and all our plans would fall through. When the paranoia got so intense that I began talking to myself out loud, I forced myself to go outside where I could walk around the whole house and glance over at the woolshed without it looking obvious to the omniscient eyes of my imaginary watcher.
Walking didn’t help. I was hearing noises all around me and I jumped at every one of them. From the lake the mournful cry of a bird made me shiver, then the garage door rattled in the light breeze and froze me to the spot before common sense made me keep walking to where I could see the woolshed looking completely normal. Shaking my head at my own gullibility, I went back inside and was just about to turn on the electric jug to make coffee when I really did hear a car approaching. Bruno was smiling when he burst through the door.
“The shit is about to hit the fan,” he grinned.
“Where’s Gunna?”
“Driving with the plain clothes cop to show him where to come.”
“Isn’t he worried people will see him?”
“Apparently, according to his logic, the locals would look at me as they know my car but, as it’s a main road, they won’t look twice at a car they don’t recognise, so Gunna reckons nobody will notice him as long as they drive through the town without stopping. Anyway, they shouldn’t be too far behind me. Gunna’s going to show him the body bits in the woolshed then all hell is going to break loose. In fact, that sounds like them now. Let’s go and join the circus.”
We crossed the paddock to the woolshed where we met Gunna and Harris, the same detective I had met at the lake, who seemed surprised to meet me again. He shook my hand before Gunna led the way around the bottom of the shed and through the doors into the gloom of the pig pen. The stench was intense.
“Bloody hell!” Harris swore over the high-pitched squealing of the hungry pigs. “What the hell has he been doing in here?”
“Like we told your boss, illegal trading in wild meat and, just to top it off, killing a bloke and feeding his body to those guys,” Gunna answered, motioning towards the pigs with a flick of his thumb.
Harris pulled a powerful torch from his pocket, turned it on and swept the light over the pile of swans.
“Bloody hell! So you reckon there’s a man’s body in there?”
“Yep.” Bruno leant forwards and pointed to the odd bit of colour in the pile. “Right there. That’s a bit of his jacket and his head’s just a bit to the left. See, by the black wing.”
“Don’t touch it!” Harris leant forwards to grab Bruno’s arm. “Let’s get back out into the fresh air and I’ll call in the forensic guys.” From behind their wire fence the pigs squealed. “And we’ll need a vet to deal with those two.”
“I’m a vet,” Bruno reminded him. “There’s an old guy up the road who’s an expert on pigs. In fact, Gunna thinks these two have been stolen from his place. I’m sure he will take them, even if they’re not his. I’ll just have to go up there and borrow his trailer.”
Harris was already heading back outside, sucking the fresh air into his lungs.
“Oh, hell that’s just nasty in there. Right, you go get whatever you need to remove those pigs and I’ll phone my team. They’ll need to take photos of the pigs in situ but then we’ll need them gone asap so we can set up some decent lighting in there and start working through that pile. Bloody hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that before.”
There wasn’t much Gunna or I could do, so we stood to one side while Harris spoke to someone on his phone and Bruno sprinted back across the paddock then drove away in the direction of van Rooy’s farm.
“They’re taking bets down at the pub on what day you will float up in the lake,” I told Gunna. “And I’ve been warned that you might turn up at Maggie’s house – oh that’s right, you did.”
Gunna chuckled. “Like a bad penny, I’m bound to turn up somewhere. Maybe tonight. I might just turn up at the pub for a beer. That would cause a bit of a ruction.”
“Right,” Harris turned to us, “The team is on its way and I’ve told them to keep radio silence so Carlton doesn’t get wind of what’s going on. I’ve also spoken to his immediate superior who’s going to keep Carlton occupied so he won’t have a chance to get up here before the team has done its work. So now we wait for them to get here. I don‘t suppose there’s any chance of a cup of coffee while we wait?”
“Not a problem,” I replied. “I’ll go get us some. How do you like it?”
“Milk and two, thanks.”
“Me, too,” Gunna added.
I left the men talking, grateful for something to do as my paranoia was returning. I still felt as if I was being watched, even though I knew Carlton was nowhere near. It didn’t take long to make three mugs of coffee, but climbing back through the fence without spilling them was too hard, so I took the long way, up Maggie’s drive and along the road. From that angle the woolshed looked less dilapidated than it actually was. Carlton had obviously gone to some lengths to maintain the front so nothing that happened inside was visible to anyone driving past. I rejoined the two men who muttered their thanks as they took the warm mugs.
“The biggest problem,” Harris said between sips, “is going to be pinning Carlton to this and making it stick. Unless we find good evidence, he can admit to owning the building but claim he never went near it so had no idea what it was being used for. This is going to get very tricky.”
“Nah, I’ve got evidence,” Gunna replied. “Photos, videos too, of him and Nettles. And I’ve got a log book – times, dates, everything you need.”
“Good. That’s really good. Now all we need is my team to arrive. Come on guys!”
As it was, Bruno arrived first, towing an enclosed tandem trailer and accompanied by a bent, grizzled old man who seemed much too small for the bushy, grey beard that covered all of his face except his rheumy blue eyes and fell almost to his waist. Bruno helped him down from the Land Rover’s cab, introducing him as Hank van Rooy before leading him through the door into the smelly depths of the woolshed. After a few minutes they returned and van Rooy nodded.
“Yep, that’s Helga and Hortense. I thought they’d wandered off up the back somewhere. Didn’t realise some bugger’d stolen them. Soon as you like, I’ll load ‘em up and get ‘em out of your hair.”
“I guess you saw the pile of carcasses in there?” Harris asked. “Would those pigs really eat all of that? Could you really get rid of a body that way?”
“Yep. Yep, indeed you could. Pigs’ll pretty much eat anything, although I’m not so sure about the feathers. They ain’t fussy, ‘specially if you keep ‘em hungry and that’s all they’re gettin’ fed. Not good for ‘em though. I’ll have to keep an eye on ‘em for a while and get some decent feed into ‘em. Poor old girls.”
I was still struggling to think of the giant, shrieking monsters as poor old girls when two cars and a van pulled in through the gate. The forensic team had arrived. Bruno herded Hank to where Gunna and I were standing out of the way and we all watched, fascinated as the team swung into action and amused each time one of them rushed back out of the woolshed to vomit into the grass. Floodlights and a power generator were carried in, followed by a photographer, but we were kept firmly on the outside for over an hour before Harris gave Bruno the all-clear to remove the pigs. I hung back, preparing to hide as I expected the pigs to charge out and attack us, but instead, to everyone’s amazement, Bruno cut the padlock to open the pen and Hank stepped forwards, called the pigs’ names softly, and patted them on their wiry snouts. The two hulking beasts grunted, snuffled at his hand and peacefully followed him through the door and up the ramp onto the trailer.
“Well, I’ll be buggered,” Harris exclaimed. “Here was I, thinking we’d have to shoot them with a tranquiliser gun. This day just gets weirder by the minute. Mr van Rooy, Bruno,” he ran to the trailer, “can you please keep those two in quarantine for a few days? We’re going to need to collect their droppings to run forensic tests on.”
“You want their poo as evidence?” Hank laughed.
“Yes, we do. We need proof of what they’ve been eating.”
“Then you’re welcome to all you can pick up. It’s all yours.”
“Thanks,” Harris rounded on two constables standing near the door. “That will be a lovely job for whichever one of you pisses me off most this week.” The constables avoided eye contact.
As Bruno helped Hank into the Land Rover, I asked Harris if Gunna and I could wait back at the house. Gunna declined the offer, preferring to stay and watch, but I had no desire to see the carcasses as they were brought out of the shed so I was relieved when Harris agreed I could leave.
Back at the house, I rinsed out the coffee mugs and poured myself another cup, then forced my reluctant brain into work mode. A check of my inventory list showed I had nearly finished itemising all the contents of the house, and the shed full of taxidermied birds and strange tools, so that left only the garage to deal with. With a bit of luck, the birds and tools would all belong to Gunna and I wouldn’t have to touch any of them. Gunna would have to move them, but where he would move them to? The caravan wasn’t big enough. Would he have to move the caravan too? It was on Maggie’s land and if the house was sold, the new owners might not want a weird old hippy camping on their lakefront. I wished they had got around to getting married. Gunna’s future looked bleak.
Fortified by coffee, biscuits and determination, I shut off thoughts of what was happening in the woolshed and concentrated on Maggie’s extensive wardrobe, leaving the vintage collectible clothes on their colour-co-ordinated hangers and shelves, but throwing the everyday pieces, such as her flannelette nightgowns and underwear, into black rubbish bags to be dumped. I was engrossed in a shelf of felt hats when Bruno found me to tell me he had delivered Hank and the pigs and was heading back to his veterinary practice in Mosgiel.
“Amy has left me six messages, each one grumpier than the last,” he said, “so I’d better show my face.”
Amy, I had forgotten about Amy. I’d be grumpy too if my boyfriend hadn’t been home all night.
“Give Jackson a pat for me,” was all the response I could force myself to give.
“Will do. I’ll be back later. I’ll bring food.”
Then he was gone. I felt flat, empty. Damn Amy. As he drove away I couldn’t concentrate and found myself walking to the lounge without any real purpose. I stepped out onto the deck to get a better look at the police team still busy at the woolshed but, much as I was curious to know what was happening, I knew I wouldn’t be told anything, so going over there was pointless. Gunna would fill me in when he returned. Back to work.
Gunna found me an hour later, hugging and stroking a fur coat.
“It’s so soft,” I offered as an excuse for my odd behaviour. “Is it mink?”
“No, just good old bunny rabbit,” Gunna replied. “Maggie shot them.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope, told you she was a good shot. I know fur’s not fashionable anymore but Maggie looked on it as recycling. They’re a pest around here and have to be culled, so she found a good use for them. Made a great rabbit stew too.”
“And this one?” I pulled a jacket from the wardrobe.
“Possum. Trapped by me.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure if the coats still held the appeal they did before Gunna told me where they came from. I changed the subject. “How’s it going over at the woolshed?”
“They’re packing up for the day but I think they’ll be back tomorrow. They’ve bagged up all the dead swans and found several bits of whoever that poor bastard is, but from what Harris is muttering, identifying him is going to be a hard job. There’s not a lot left but, hopefully, my photos will help. I’d love to be a fly on the wall at the police station though.”
“Why?”
“Because Harris has taken a couple of constables with him and he’s off to arrest Carlton.”
“Arrest him? Did they find enough evidence to do that?”
“Not sure, maybe arrest is the wrong word. Hold him for questioning, that’s what Harris said.”
“I wonder if he will plead ignorance or drop Nettles right in it?”
“Both, I reckon,” Gunna said. “He’ll weasel out of it any way he can. Still, I’ve given Harris my camera with some pretty incriminating photos on it and I’m here to sort some more of my files so I can give them to him tomorrow.”
Gunna left me re-hanging, counting and noting the fur coats so when Bruno finally arrived back carrying a parcel of fish and chips, I had a smug feeling of accomplishment, which didn’t last long.
“Harris rang me,” Bruno threw his Swanndri onto a chair and faced me. “Carlton has done a bunk.”
“What?”
“Harris expected him to be at the police station but he never turned up. His police car is there but his own car has gone.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah, Harris is pretty pissed off. I wouldn’t want to be the person who slipped Carlton the warning, if anybody did. Harris is wondering if he had some sort of alarm system attached to the gate. I offered to go and have a look for one but he’s warning us to stay well away. If Carlton’s spooked, he might be dangerous.”
“Great. Are we safe here tonight?”
“We should be but let’s draw the curtains and lock all the doors, just in case.”
“That fills me with confidence – not.”
“Let’s not worry about it. There’s a constable standing guard up at the woolshed, so if Carlton turns up there, he’s going to get caught, but I’m still going to listen out for any cars going up the road. In the mean time, where’s Gunna? These fish and chips’ll be cold if we don’t eat them soon.”
Sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of a stoked-up, roaring fire, eating fish and chips out of their newspaper wrapping, seemed a world away from the horrors of the woolshed. As I didn’t want to be reminded of the pile of carcasses while I was eating, I banned any talk of it. Instead, our dinner held the same surreal quality of domesticity I had felt before. It wasn’t somebody else’s house that I was staying in, it was my house, my friends (or did they feel more like family?) and my warm, comforting fire. All I needed was my dog, which made me feel sad as I knew in my heart I needed to give Jackson to Gunna, who obviously loved him dearly and who had lost enough when Maggie died.
I was laughing at Gunna’s stories of Bruno as a schoolboy when I heard a car stop outside and a car door slam shut. We all froze as footsteps pounded up the steps. As a fist knocked on the door, Gunna slipped away through the bookcase into the secret room. I called out “Who is it?” as Bruno positioned himself out of sight behind the door.
“Ian Carlton,” the response came. “I’ve brought you the printed version of your statement for your insurance.”
“Okay, just a minute.” I stalled for time, shrugging and mouthing a “what do I do?” message to Bruno. He looked unsure so I decided to be brave, stepped forwards and opened the door. To the side I could see Bruno texting furiously, presumably to Harris.
“Hi,” I greeted Carlton as cheerfully as I could fake. “That’s very kind of you. You didn’t need to come all this way, but I do appreciate it.” I took the piece of paper he offered, hoping he would leave, but he stood firm.
“Have you noticed anyone up at my shed today?” he asked.
“No, no,” I lied. “I haven’t looked out the windows much, to be honest. I’ve been trying to get my job finished here so I can go home, so I’ve spent all day stuck in Maggie’s giant walk-in wardrobe, listing her vintage clothes. Her wardrobe’s massive,” I prattled on, “there’s one whole rack just of fur coats. It was getting dark by the time I’d finished, so, no, I haven’t had time to notice anything else. Why? Has something happened? Have they found Gunna?”
“I don’t know,” Carlton shifted on his feet, turning to look over his shoulder. “That’s McTavish’s rover isn’t it? What’s he doing here this late? Are you two at it?”
“At what? Oh, I get what you’re implying. Actually,” I paused, breathing deeply as rising anger flushed the last vestiges of fear away, “I was going to say that he brought me news of Jackson but now I’m going to tell you that, if we were ‘at it’, even if we were bonking like rabbits, it’s no bloody business of yours. So thanks for bring the statement, sorry, no I haven’t spotted Gunna in your woolshed and good night.”
I stepped back, shut the door quickly and turned the key to lock it. Beside me Bruno smothered a laugh, clutching his hand to his mouth until we heard the car door slam and the engine start, then he let the laughter splutter out in shaking gasps.
“Oh my god, you were brilliant. I wish I could have seen his face. I didn’t know we were bonking like rabbits.”
“In your dreams,” I swatted him on the arm. I wondered if it was in his dreams, it had certainly been in mine. “Be serious. Did you get hold of Harris?”
“Yep. He’s sending a car and he’s radioed the constable who’s guarding the woolshed.”
“So what do we do?”
“Hmm, I was going to say we do nothing but I’ve got a better idea. Back in a tick.”
Bruno took his keys from the pocket of his Swanndri and left, returning a few minutes later carrying a futuristic-looking rifle and a small bag.
“Dart gun,” he said before I could ask. “I had it on stand-by for the pigs and now I’m wondering if it might be just the job for stopping Carlton. At least it would hold him until Harris gets here.”
“That’s too dangerous,” I argued. “He’ll see you coming. What if he thinks it’s a real rifle and shoots you first?”
“He won’t see me, trust me.” Bruno pulled on his Swanndri and covered his blond-streaked hair with a dark green beanie. “I’m betting he’s too busy checking out what’s missing inside the shed to bother looking across the paddock. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”
I wasn’t convinced but he wasn’t going to be dissuaded so I bit back my protests and walked out into the darkness with him, holding the dart gun while he climbed the fence. I was standing in the lee of the stairs, watching him walk away across the paddock into the darkness, when a hand covered my mouth and pulled me backwards. Carlton was still here? I tried to scream but the hand over my mouth was strong, then a sharp object stuck into my ribs and a familiar voice warned me to be quiet.
“Bonking like rabbits. I knew you were. You slut.” The hand forced my head back while another grabbed my hair and yanked, pulling my body backwards towards the garage. “You thought I’d given up and gone away, but I don’t walk away from things I own and I own you. Mother is not happy with your behaviour. Neither am I.”
Simon kicked the garage door open, pulled me inside then spun me around so my back was bent over the bonnet of Maggie’s beautiful car. He changed his grip so his left hand was now holding my mouth shut, freeing his right hand to rip at my clothing. I struggled, flailing my arms at his back, but he pushed me harder into the car’s bonnet, giving me no option to move or fight. The fastener on my jeans popped open. As his hand slid down into my knickers, my muscles tensed. I squirmed under him, trying to breathe, to scream, to get away. I screamed for Bruno in my head but the only sound I could make was muffled by Simon’s grip. How could I get attention? Underneath me the metal of the car bonnet flexed with Simon’s weight added to mine. His fingernails scratched my hip as he tried to remove my jeans. I squirmed more, struggling to move my legs. If I could get them up onto the bumper, could I get enough traction to push him off? How could I get Bruno’s attention? Was he too far away now to hear me? What could I use to make enough noise? With all my strength I flung my arms sideways, drumming my fists onto the car’s metal, banging out the old Morse code for SOS that my father had taught me when I was a child playing spy games.
Simon pulled his hand out of my jeans long enough to slap my face hard.
“From the look of him, you’ve decided you like it rough, well rough you’re going to get. Go on, struggle a bit harder, you’re turning me on.”
“And I’m turning you off.” With a surprised grunt, Simon fell sideways as Gunna’s concerned face swam into focus.
“Are you all right, lass? Did he hurt you? Who the hell is he?”
I let Gunna help me to my feet, studied Simon’s unconscious form, noting the heavy piece of wood in Gunna’s hand before pulling back my foot and delivering Simon a hefty kick to his ribs.
“This, Gunna, is my despicable, controlling, narcissistic ex.” I punctuated my description with a solid kick with every word. “I thought I had escaped from him when I flew down here but the bastard followed me, then I thought he had given up when he ran into Bruno who told him where to go and how to get there. I thought he had run back to his ghastly mother in Wellington. Seems I was mistaken.” I kicked him again.
“Okay, okay,” Gunna pulled me gently out of kicking distance. “Well, what are we going to do with him now?”
“I could give him an overdose of this,” Bruno’s voice spoke from the door. “Or I could get my vet bag and cut his nuts off. Without an anaesthetic.”
Before he could put down the dart gun, I had flown across the garage and thrown myself into Bruno’s arms, sobbing into his chest as the adrenalin leaked away. Gunna held his hand out to take the rifle and Bruno wrapped me in a hug, planting tiny kisses on the top of my head as I snuggled into the warmth of his chest. When the sobs died to a sniffle, Gunna got our attention with a discreet cough.
“Enough canoodling, you two. I need some help to sort out this piece of shit.”
Reluctantly, I lifted my hands to Bruno’s chest and stepped back from his arms. After one more kiss and a smile, he moved to help Gunna who had found some cable ties and was securing Simon’s wrists and ankles. As he worked, Simon started to wake up, but even fully conscious and struggling, he was no match for Bruno who dragged him to the wall where he shackled him to a convenient metal hook.
“Can I cut his nuts off now?” Bruno asked with a deliciously evil grin.
Simon struggled against his bindings, sobbing “No, no, no,” as he scrabbled as far away from Bruno as he could manage.
“No, not yet,” I said, stepping forwards to stand over my cowering ex. “Maybe later. First, though, you’d better pretend he’s an animal we care about and check his head. We don’t want Gunna blamed for helping me.”
Bruno’s response was an angry glare but he did as I asked, although with less care and consideration than he would have used on even the worst-tempered animal patient.
“He’ll live,” he declared. “Pity. What do you want to do with him?”
“Let’s leave him here for now. I’m sure Detective Harris is driving this way at speed, as we speak, and I’m sure he’ll be only too happy to take this bastard back with him, throw him in a comfy cell and charge him with attempted rape. Mummy will be so proud.”
Bruno put his arm around my shoulder and we walked away, leaving Simon alternatively whimpering and yelling abuse as he struggled against the sturdy metal hook securing him to the wall. With Gunna following, carrying the dart gun, we stepped out into a bright light that lit the view across the paddock.
“Holy shit,” Bruno exclaimed. “The woolshed’s on fire! Andy, ring triple 1. Gunna, get hold of Harris. I’m going up there.”
“No!” I grabbed his arm. “Stay here. There’s nothing we can do. Carlton could still be there. He’s dangerous.”
“The constable! The guy Harris left there. I’ve got to make sure he’s safe.”
Gunna was already on his phone as Bruno leapt over the fence and ran. I pulled mine out and dialled, watching Bruno run towards the flames as I gave details to the emergency operator.
“Harris isn’t far away,” Gunna said as I hung up. He had his phone in camera mode and was clicking furiously, capturing the flames leaping in orange, red and yellow fingers upward into the black sky. Framed against the light, Bruno was a silhouette, a black shape getting smaller as he raced towards the inferno.
“No!” I cried as I saw him dart towards the small door and enter the burning building. Then I was running too, scaling the fence and pounding over the rough ground. Behind me I heard Gunna call, faint against the roar of the flames. I ran on.
The heat hurt my throat and lungs as I breathed it in. My eyes stung but I kept running towards the black gap of the doorway. I yelled Bruno’s name, hoping I would see him smiling and safe. Then I did. I reached the door, staying in the centre of the gap, afraid of the glowing wood that crackled around me. Inside, past where the swans had been piled, deep in the pig pen, I saw a movement. I called out and the hunched figure lifted its head.
“Stay back, I’ve got him,” Bruno shouted.
He hunkered down again and I realised he was dragging something, someone. I took a deep breath, drawing up the courage to step through the doorway to help, when the air seemed to change. The flames grew brighter, louder, as the timbers above Bruno shattered, tumbling around him in a burning waterfall of embers, covering him as he fell to the ground.
“Bruno! Bruno!” I leapt forwards, thrusting through the falling debris, ignoring the heat, choking on the smoke as I shoved blackened pieces of wood out of my way. The pig pen was their saviour; the sturdy wire gates had created a barrier against the falling roof. Bruno was huddled against them, protecting the unconscious police constable with his body. I sank to my knees beside them, wanting to hold Bruno tight but knowing there was no time to waste.
“Come on,” I urged, “we need to go.”
Dazed, Bruno stared at me, not comprehending, then shook himself like a wet dog and smiled, his teeth abnormally white against his soot-blackened face. He wrapped his arms under the shoulders of the young constable and motioned for me to grab his feet.
“Let’s do this.”
Together, we lifted the injured man and carried him out as the building collapsed around us.