The Valley of Longing 15

Melissa did not have to see the speaker to know that the question came from Rodney Noble - his accent was not as prominent as Terry Dickens’ but his voice was still easily recognisable. ‘I don’t think it’s him, I know it is,’ Mitchell snapped angrily, unable to stop himself overreacting after the worst day he could remember, Draining his glass, he slammed it down on the bar and called for another. The answer failed to satisfy the mechanic, who asked another question the moment he heard it. ‘How d’you know? Just because he found the girl, don’t mean he killed her,’ Rodney said. ‘If anything, I’d say that makes it less likely he killed them.’ ‘That’s not all I’ve got on him,’ Mitchell said, stung into revealing more than intended. ‘Not only did he find Lynne, whose body had been left in an out of the way place where just about nobody goes, he’s the last person to have seen Lily - she visited him yesterday afternoon, and he was seen following her down the road after she left his place. Then there’s the fact that he’s got a series of scratches on his arm, fresh ones, no more than a day old. He claims he got them in his garden, but I’m sure they came from Lily when he attacked her.’ ‘So you’ve decided this Wild guy is guilty ‘Cause he’s a fitness nut who chose a scenic route for his morning run, and because after Lily left his place, he took the only road that leads from his place to the Dorpie, or even from his place to town.’ This time it was clear as day that the mechanic thought Mitchell wrong. ‘You’re clutching at straws, Venter.’ ‘The hell I am, Rodney,’ Mitchell snatched up his second pint and began gulping it down as quickly as he had the first. ‘He’s the killer.’ ‘Then why ain’t you got him in custody? All of youse is here, ‘cepting the inspector; if you had someone in custody, one of you’d be at the station, keeping watch, or driving him to the station in town. If you’re so sure he’s the one killed them girls, why ain’t you arrested him?’ Mitchell glared angrily at the mechanic, and when he didn’t back down said, ‘We did arrest him, and we questioned him for hours, but his lawyer, some fancy woman, probably from Kuruman or Ficksburg, forced us to let him go ‘cause we ain’t get enough evidence to charge him yet.’ ‘If you ain’t got enough evidence to charge him, how the hell can you be sure it’s him? Maybe the killer’s someone else, and you’re leaving him free to attack other girls ‘cause you’ve already decided this Wild guy is guilty.’ ‘Come off it, Rodney,’ Jim Peters, landlord of The Village Green Basket, said as he poured drink after drink to meet the demands of his larger than usual crowd. ‘If it’s not this Wild, then who the hell could it be? You’re not really trying to suggest it could be one of us, are you?’ We all know one another,’ he gestured around the Bar, ‘ IF one of us was a killer, we’d know about it. Wild’s the only stranger ‘round here, it’s got to be him. If you’ve not got the evidence to charge him yet, you’d best find it, and soon, before he attacks anyone else.’ ‘Believe me, Jim I know that,’ Mitchell said. ‘I should get something I can use from either the post - mortem or the forensics team, then I’ll nail him.’ Melissa was a little disturbed by how willing her friends and neighbours seemed to be to believe that Jack Wild was responsible for the two murders that had occurred. Not knowing the man seemed to be all they needed, to think him capable of killing not one but two girls. It was only a small comfort to her that of all the people in the Dorpie, Rodney was not willing to make Jack Wild a murderer simply because he was a stranger. She had hoped to find some relaxation in a quiet drink at the Bar, while she tried to work out what to do about the conversation she had overheard. That now seemed impossible since it was clear that the sole topic of conversation was the murders, and that was the last thing she wanted to listen to. Finishing her drink, she left so she could head home in the hopes of getting some peace there. Jack woke with a start. His eyelids flew open and he sat bolt upright in bed. For several long moments he remained like that, looking around the darkness of his bedroom for whatever it was that had woken him, he was sure it had to be something. Just as he was about to give up and return his head to the pillow, he heard it, the sound of people moving around furtively downstairs. He was out of bed and reaching for the torch on his bedside cabinet in an instant. The torch he snatched up was a foot long and heavy, it was perfect for either lighting up the darkness or using as a weapon, which was why he kept it close to hand. He kept the light off as he crept towards the door on tiptoes and pulled it open as slowly and as silently as he could. He did not want to alert whoever was downstairs to the fact that he was awake until the last possible moment. ‘What’s going on?’ The question startled Jack, and he reacted instantly, and without thinking. He spun towards where it had come from, his torch raised in readiness to strike. It was only at the last moment that he remembered he had a guest. He managed to stay his hand before the torch struck home, but it was a close thing. ‘Dammit, Izzy,’ he kissed in a voice that was made up of equal parts anger and fright. ‘You got any idea how close you came to being brained? I was half a heartbeat away from smashing you on the head with this thing.’ He waved the torch in his friend’s face to emphasise his words, not that either of them could see it all that clearly, for the only light in the upstairs passage came from the moonlight shining through the small window in the bathroom. ‘Sorry,’ Isobel apologised in a whisper. ‘Didn’t mean to surprise you. Have you got burglars?’ she asked as more noised reached them from downstairs. ‘Sounds like it,’ Jack said. ‘You go back to the room and keep quiet, I’ll be back as soon as I’ve dealt with whoever’s downstairs.’ He was about to start down the stairs when Isobel caught this arm. ‘Shouldn’t you call the police instead of putting yourself at risk?’ Isobel asked in a barely audible whisper. ‘It’s only a burglar, nothing to worry about,’ Jack whispered confidently. ‘They’ll run off as soon as I give them a good scare.’ It was Isobel’s turn to hiss in a mixture of anger and fright. ‘What if you’re wrong?’ she wanted to know. ‘What if whoever’s she wanted to know. ‘What if whoever’s down there isn’t frightened, or they’re not just here to rob you?’ “Why else would they have broken in?’ ‘That sergeant believes you killed those two girls, maybe someone wants to do something about that.’ Jack wanted to tell his friend that she was imaging trouble, before he could do so, he realised that she might be right. He knew well enough from his time as a detective that the murder of someone, especially a young girl, could inspire strong feelings in people, even inspire them to acts of revenge. ‘Okay, you go and call the police,’ he told Isobel, ‘While I head downstairs; I’m not going to do anything,’ he said quickly before he could be interrupted. ‘I’m just going to see If I can find out who it is and what they’re doing here.’ Before Isobel could stop him, Jack slipped down the stairs. He was stopped halfway down by a crashing sound; listening, he tried to figure out who had broken into his home, and what they where doing there; the moment he did, he had to stifle the urge to laugh - what he could hear was comical rather than threatening . ‘Watch what you’re doin,’ ya friggen moron.’ ‘You watch what you’re doin’, if I weren’t too busy tryin’ not to walk into you, I’da seen it.’ ‘You’ve walked into everything else, you might as well walk into me. Why didn’t ya bring a torch so you could see what you’re doing?’ ‘Why didn’t you? Here. I’ll pull the curtains so we can see what’s worth takin,’ and be quiet, we don’t wanna wake anyone up.’ ‘You be quiet, you’re the one making all the noise.’ Jack could quite easily have believed that he was listening to a farce; the two men in his living room were clearly drunk, that much was obvious from their slurred speech, and the fact that their efforts to tell one another to be quiet were louder than the noise they were making stumbling around and into things. He should have been annoyed that they had broken in, and were breaking his things, but the situation was too much like something from a Three Stooges Film for him to be anything but amused, at least until another voice spoke up - the new voice sounded less impaired by alcohol, and altogether more serious that the other two. ‘Shut up, the pair of you. Jesus! Anyone’d think this is the first time you’ve broken in somewhere.’ The new voice may have spoken in a hoarse whisper, but it contained a level of menace that silenced the other two immediately. ‘And we’re not here to rob the place, we’re here to kill the guy killed Lynne and Lily. I’m gonna slice the guy’s heart out. He’s gonna be upstairs, in bed, not in here, so come on. If you wanna take his stuff, you can get it after I’ve done what I came here to do.’ Jack felt himself go cold when he heard that, and he found himself frozen in place for several heartbeats. It was not the first time his life had been threatened, but all the previous occasions had been in the heat of the moment, and he knew the people making the threats were not serious. As much as he wanted to believe otherwise, he knew that this occasion was different - whoever had come to his house, had done so with the intention of hurting him, and he had brought friends, that made the threat a serious one. The moment he recovered from his surprise, he turned and hurried back up the stairs as quickly and as quietly as he could. ‘Have you called the police?’ He asked, a little breathless, once he reached Isobel, who was still near the top of the stairs. ‘NO’, Isobel said with a shake of her head that was only just visible. ‘I don’t know the number for the local police, and calling one - zero - one - seven - seven would be a waste of time, I doubt they could get anyone here in less than an hour. Anything could happen in that time.’ She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, realising that she sounded panicky, and thought it ironic that for all the times she had represented criminals, both serious and pretty, this was the first time that she had been on the receiving end of a crime. ‘Go into my room and get my phone, the local police station is on speed dial four. Lock yourself in and call them.’ ‘What are you going to do?’ More calmly that he really felt, Jack said, ‘I’m just going to wait here and keep an eye, or an ear, on what’s going on downstairs. Go on, everything’ll be alright, just go and call the police,’ He was relieved when Isobel, after a brief hesitation, did as he said and made for his bedroom. Once Isobel had shut herself in his bedroom, and he was sure that she was as safe as she could be, while still in the house, Jack tightened his grip on the torch and moved to a position by the banister at the head of the stairs. He was certain his friend would not approve of what he had in mind, but he had a plan for dealing with the trio who had come to kill him, or at least to assault him. He remained tensed, and ready to move, by the head of the stairs while he listened to the noisy intruders begin their ascent and draw nearer. How they thought they were going to be able to sneak up on him while he was sleeping, when they were making so much noise, he did not know - even the heaviest of sleepers would have been woken by their racket - but under the circumstances, he was glad they were too drunk to be quiet. When they had almost reached the top of the stairs, he jumped out, yelling. ‘What the hell are you doing in my house?’ as loudly as he could. At the same time, he flipped the switch on the wall, bathing the stairs and the upper passage in light. The suddenness of his appearance, combined with the light and his shout, had the desired effect on the ascending trio. The foremost of the three staggered back to step from the noise and the light, lost his footing as he missed the step he had just left and fell. His arms pin wheeled as he sought something, anything, to grab hold of to keep him upright but there was nothing, and after about half a second he succumbed to gravity. He collided with his friends, who were only a couple of steps behind him, and together the three of them tumbled down the stairs in a tangle. Jack hurried down the stairs after the trio, jumping the last four steps, so he could avoid the jumble of arms and legs that lay at the foot of the stairs. He landed awkwardly, and felt pain shoot up his leg as his ankle buckled, making him fall forward and bang his head on the front door. He recovered as quickly as he could, shaking his head to clear his vision of stars, and turned to check on the downed trio of would - be killers….