Moondog and the Reed Leopard

by Neil Mach

  Moondog removed his boots at the door of her trailer, then stepped inside. The washed his hands in the sink. His mother-in-law passed a paper towel, then offered a plastic basket to could discard the waste. She gestured he should take the basket to the step.

  ‘Well sit. So keres?’

  ‘I am in Leicestershire...’ replied Moondog, taking his seat at the table.

  ‘Oh yeah? It’s all cobs ‘n’ mash up there. I cannot stand the place.’

  ‘I’m doing a job for the warbs…’

  ‘Warbs? Hrrggh,’ She tilted her chin and frowned. ‘When will you learn that you can never trust authority?’ She poured boiling water into a pot to heat it. He looked across from the padded seat and enjoyed the way her golden coins — sewn into patches on her apron — jingled and spangled as she worked.

  ‘They called me in to solve a mystery.’

  His mother-in-law made a noise that sounded like hmph! Then she added loose leaves to the pot and poured in boiling water. ‘But you did not come to tell me paramitsha, right?’

  ‘No, Assumpta, I did not. I came to ask how she is...’

  ‘Care, do you?’

  ‘You know so, Dya.’

  ‘Your beautiful wife is on the road to recovery, that’s all I can offer. A return to full health will be a slow journey and it might yet be painful.’

  ‘You’re enjoying this aren’t you?’

  ‘What a wicked thing to say... Mizhak —’

  Assumpta brought the best bone china over to the table and laid down the porcelain pot in its fancy cowl. It always reminded him of a hangman’s hood. Like always, he felt like a condemned man waiting for sentence. ‘I don’t mean to black-hearted mother, but you have wanted Ascension to come back to you here ever since they day we married, haven’t you? Ever since our wedding day?’

  ‘Not this way,’ she pinched her lips and narrowed her eyes. ‘Of course, I haven’t...’ she sighed. ‘Though it’s true that I did not want a raklo to marry my only daughter... The coupling has brought great lashav to the high-born familia.’

  ‘That’s just old yak and you know it,’ Moondog said. ‘Ascension and I love one another. Why can’t you see that? Why won’t you bless our covenant? Why won’t you settle this bitterness that lays in your heart?’

  ‘Do you? Do you love my daughter?’

  ‘You know that I do...’

  ‘Where is a child? Where is a grandson? Where is the proof of your great zor? That’s the vortimo isn’t it? You bring great lashav to our ancient name… that’s bad enough… but my beautiful daughter has nothing to show for it, no baby to call her own, just a bruised body and a head filled with shame and nonsense...’

  The old woman removed the cozy from the pot and stirred the leaves. She allowed the drink to brew for another minute.

  Moondog responded to her outburst by eyeing his feet and grinding his teeth.

  ‘Don’t bock, son...’ she scolded.

  So Moondog sat upright and rubbed the back of his neck. Then he cleared his throat to speak again, ‘Will Ascension be well enough to accompany me on my itinerary any time soon?’

  The old woman blew a gust of air, ‘She says she is ready...’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Your wife has always been satisfied to hold her own opinions...’

  ‘But what is your opinion, mother?’ Moondog tapped his fist against his heart.

  ‘At last… ha…’ Assumpta began to pour the tea. ‘At last some pakiv for a noble mother-in-law. A little recognition. The credit I’m owed. Respect to the woman whose girl’s hand was stolen in the dead of night...’

  ‘I did not steal her hand...’

  ‘In the night. Yes, you did. My daughter was robbed from my wagon in the dead of night.’

  ‘But you came to the wedding service. In fact, all the family attended our vows...’

  ‘By then you had already secretly stolen her away, hadn’t you? No proper courtship? Elopada, like nothing better than a common maid? A princess — she’s a princess, my daughter. She was destined to be Queen one day —yet she was taken by a common intruder in the night. Taken like a servant from a house. The shame of it will be borne by generations to come...’

  ‘It takes two...’ he mumbled. Moondog remembered the night of their elopement well. How they planned an escape because he knew that her mother would never accept a marriage between royal and mongrel blood. But how can a mix of blood be a barrier to love?

  ‘You are my zhamutro now,’ the old woman said. ‘There is nothing that can be done. I asked for help from the stars, from the moon and from the many faces of Jesus. I asked help from Saint Sara Kali. But there’s nothing can be done.’

  ‘So.’

  ‘So.’ The old woman passed the cup on a delicate saucer and set a silver spoon aside.

  They drank their tea in silence. Outside the birds sang and the sound of his generator buzzed. If he listened carefully, Moondog could hear sea waves crashing against stones.

  ‘May I ask your opinion, Dya?’

  ‘What is it?’ His mother-in-law gave a hesitant nod but avoided eye contact. The added, as an after-thought: ‘Save your leaves. I will read them...’

  Moondog leaned forward, his shoulders slightly slumped, ‘I came to be thinking... Who could crawl into a camp, during the thick of night, without waking the guard dogs? ‘

  ‘My daddy could, your sastro could... Hell, even you could. You could creep into a night camp in half-silence and you’re not even full blood... What are you driving at?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  The gold coins in her apron tinkled as she bared her teeth, then his mother-in-law shook her head: ‘Dare you suggest I had something to do with the attack on your trailer? Is that what you are implying?’

  ‘I just venture an idea. Perhaps our attackers came from within? And if that was the case, a royal must have sanctioned the action.’

  ‘This is a risky terrain, son. It is best you choose your words wisely. Or your head will split from your neck. You understand?’

  ‘But is that not the vortimo? The truth?’

  ‘What?’ she pursed her lips and scowled.

  ‘You must admit that only a Rom can talk to animals... so the attack wasn’t perpetrated by a half-chat was it?’

  ‘Take care of your lip, son.’

  ‘Sastimos,’ he declared. Moondog tipped the dregs of his cup into the saucer.

  She glared but pulled the porcelain towards her flat chest. ‘I see three spirits,’ she said, as she looked into the tealeaves. ‘One is a good spirit, one is evil, and one is the mediator...’ She spread her bony fingers over the shallow dish to bless it. ‘I see a man of the forest and... And something like a Vaida?’

  ‘Vaida? What is that?’

  ‘I don’t know for sure. A Chief? Not a Rom. This Vaida is from a city.’

  ‘I get it. I understand who that might be. It’s about someone I am working with at Hugh-Lupus.’

  The old woman went on: ‘I see the great hand of God who takes people and scatters them in different places so they may never connect. I see a curse. I see a sin.’

  ‘Yes, yes. We have had all these things before. But, noble Dya, do you see hope and brightness for my wife Ascension?’

  ‘I see a star. I see a man. I see a mother who looks up, I see another who looks—’ Then the old woman let out a shriek. It was a piercing cry that frightened the saintly bejeebers out of Moondog.

  ‘What? What is it? What is the calamity revealed in the leaves?’ he asked, with an urgent breath.

  The old woman’s scream of pain became a tearful lament and finally a moan. ‘Oh son,’ she said with a whimper. ‘I am truly sorry...’

  ‘Sorry? What for? What did you see in the leaves?’

  ‘My cherished daughter and my humble son-in-law. Oh heavens. How can nature be so cruel?’

  Moondog gazed into the black tea leaves, but all he could see was smudges and stains. His body rocked and his head shook.

  �
�I see detlene, many poor dents ...’ his mother-in-law whispered in sorrow.

  ‘Detlene? What does detlene mean? I don’t know the word.’

  ‘It means the spirits of dead children.’

  *

  Sergeant Moyes went downstairs to the front office to arrange the raid on Moondog’s camp at the Holiday Inn. Meanwhile Hopie mooched over to Sarah-Jane’s desk to look at her notes and reflect: Should I give her a ring? Yes, she resolved, I’ll call her after lunch. Encourage her to talk about what’s been happening.

  Hopie paced back to her desk then heard the mobile phone chattering in her handbag. Shite alight! It had been left in her bag overnight, without charging. She would have to plug it in pronto, before it run out of juice. She was all fingers-and-thumbs as she hooked the phone from her purse. She didn’t recognize the number but expected it was probably someone from the police heavy mob asking for a statement against that rat, Jimmie.

  ‘Hi, Hopie Sopgood... How can I help?’ she said.

  ‘Ah, hello,’ came girl’s voice. ‘I don’t think you remember me, we met once or twice...’

  ‘Did we?’

  ‘I left a message...’

  ‘Sorry, I’ve been busy.’

  ‘Now is not a good time?’

  ‘What is this about? Only, my battery might die. The phone needs to be plugged in.’

  ‘Sorry. I’ll make it quick. It’s about the card, the card in the window...’

  Card, what card? Hopie pushed the phone to her chest and wrinkled her forehead. Think, Hopie, think. ‘Hello, hello? You still there? What card?’

  ‘The card you left about the spare room?’

  ‘Oh gosh, that. Things have been crazy here and it slipped my mind completely. Right, yes, I’m with you. Er? I am going through a bit of turmoil at the moment...’

  ‘You want me to call later?’

  ‘Actually, that might be best...’

  ‘It’s not a problem. I will do that. Or you can come see me, you know where I am.’

  ‘Come and see you, yes. Do I? Where are you exactly?’

  ‘You know, Miss Stook’s Teahouse... you come in, sometimes? Everyone does, I suppose... We’re in Mountsorrel Lane? I got turfed out of my digs above the shop and now I urgently need a new place to sleep over... it might only be temporary. But I saw your card in the shop window and I thought your place might tide me over...’

  ‘Okay. Well leave it with me then. I will try to call you later. This might get me out of shtook with my boss. In fact, so it’s very handy you called.’

  ‘Oh good...’

  ‘What’s the name again?’

  ‘Atkinson. Jackie Atkinson.’

  Hopie felt a dull growl in the pit of her stomach. The discomfort increased until it boiled inside her gut to make her shiver. Drops of cold sweat formed on her forehead. ‘Are you going to be in the shop today, Jackie?’ Hopie asked calmly. She slowed her breathing between gritted teeth.

  ‘Yes, but you won’t find me here in the morning, you know how things are, huh? The lady doesn’t like me, so I’m going to find another little job someplace else... Do you know of any work going?’

  ‘Yes, yes I think I do...’ Hopie murmured. ‘Stay put and I will be over as soon as I can. That I promise. And I can pass you the keys to my cottage and bring you details of another job.’

  ‘Oh brilliant. That’s very kind of you. Thank you.’

  *

  Once she’d finished the call, Hopie plugged her charger into the wall socket then hurried out of the office like a madwoman. She stomped down the concrete staircase to the main office.

  ‘Where’s Moyes? Sergeant Moyes? You seen him?’ she shouted at the desk officer. He shrugged and gave a blank look.

  Hopie pushed her nose into a side office, where an officer took a report from a lady with a shopping bag, ‘Moyes? Have you seen Sergeant Moyes?’

  ‘I last saw him with the governor on the ground floor...’

  ‘The Chief?’

  ‘No, the duty officer. He’s second door on the right.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Hopie slammed the door of the interview room and rushed down the hall.

  She banged the second door open with a loud clatter and watched as the duty Inspector and Sergeant Moyes both gasped, wide eyed, to gaze at her They hadn’t expected a sudden intrusion. ‘Sorry, Sir, sorry Sarge. Someone has badly, very badly, fudged things up… I have arrived to save the day…’

  ‘What is the meaning of this sudden outburst?’ said the duty Inspector.

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ shouted Hopie. ‘This is the highest priority. It is crucial we stop the raid on the gypsy caravan...’

  Both the men gave her a dazed look, so she decided to offer more, ‘As I said, someone has badly fudged up. Sarge, you need to look at his records...’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Check the criminal records again, and do it now before it’s too late…’

  ‘What are you going on about girl?’ Moyes said, putting his hands out to calm her.

  ‘Is this any way to behave?’ the Inspector growled. ‘She should not even be down on the ground floor, she is admin support, so she’s confined to the offices upstairs. Is this what you allow your staff to do, run around wildly? Who does she think she is?’

  ‘Sir don’t forget what she’s been through…’ Moyes said in a whisper, as he turned to the Inspector. ‘She’s been through one heck of an ordeal. Probably still in recovery. She’s the one I told you about, Sir, she’s the one who had a home invasion. Er, I think it explains her somewhat unusual, erm, her erratic behavior.’

  ‘Well, yes, maybe yes. But tell her to go upstairs until this thing is resolved ...’

  ‘Do you hear that Hopie? The governor wants you to return to your office. Get up there now, be a good girl. I will be up in a jiffy, so can get all this stuff sorted...’

  ‘Be a good girl?’ Hopie drew a deep breath, then tightened her jaw. ‘Who do you bloody well think you are talking to?’ She pointed a finger at Moyes. Then she clamped her fists so she could feel her nails nipping into flesh. ‘I have had just about enough of this cavalier nonsense. I am calling the Chief Constable right away...’

  ‘Um, maybe that’s not wise...’ Moyes said as he darted a quick look at the duty inspector and licked along his top lip. ‘Maybe we ought to try and help you now, Hopie. Then afterwards perhaps you will go upstairs quietly, yes?’

  Hopie tapped her foot and willed herself to calm down. She took three deep breaths and said, ‘Well, I need you to check his details again? Will you do that?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Moondog...’

  ‘Ah yes, Mister Dog,’ the Sarge winked at the duty inspector. ‘Or, as he is properly known, Jack Atkinson isn’t it? May I use your interface sir?’

  ‘If you must...’

  Sergeant Moyes slid his fat ass into the Inspector’s chair and entered a password before he opened the National Police Computer. He looked over and gave Hopie a brief smile. She frowned.

  ‘I suppose the easiest way is through a P.N.C. identity?’ he suggested.

  ‘Mmm. Do you have it?’ asked the Inspector.

  ‘Yes, on the email here. A-ha. Got it, right, let’s smash in that number...’ The Sarge began typing, ‘Really Hopie, I don’t know what’s got into you this morning. I put it down to lack of sleep. She’s not had any sleep, sir, on account of her being up all night dealing with this Lavery mess... A-ha, here we are Hopie... here are the details.’

  Hopie moved around the desk to look over the Sergeant’s shoulder.

  ‘Now, now you’re not doing that young woman,’ commanded the duty Inspector. ‘You don’t have the authority to look at the screen. Please tell her to back off, Sergeant Moyes. She shouldn’t forget she’s only a civvy...’

  ‘It will be alright this once though won’t it, though?’ offered Moyes. ‘It means she can go upstairs, quietly out of our way, so we can get on without further interference, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I suppo
se.’

  ‘Right, so what do we have here?’ Moyes typed in more details and scrolled the page, ‘Right, here we are, the subject: Atkinson, Jack, known for theft, no warning signs, blinks a large capital W. That’s means he’s wanted, Hopie...’ Moyes looked into her face and grinned.

  ‘What’s the date of birth?’ she muttered.

  ‘Er? It’s 26th August 1995.’

  ‘So that makes him what? How old?’

  ‘Er?’ Both men looked at each other and laboured with the mental arithmetic.

  ‘Twenty-two?’ she said, getting the solution before them. ‘You met him? Did he look twenty-two to you?’

  ‘Erm? Well it’s hard to tell these days, isn’t it, love? They all look much older than they really are...’

  ‘But, really? Twenty-two? Where was he born?’

  ‘Sunderland.’

  ‘And height?’

  ‘A hundred and sixty-one centimetres...’

  ‘What’s that in feet and inches?’ she asked.

  Once again, both men struggled with the simple arithmetic.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake you two, it’s about five foot three...’

  ‘Right,’ said Moyes. ‘We’ll take your word for it...’

  ‘You met him, you met Moondog, did he look five foot three?’

  ‘Well, er, no but that is what it says here —’ The Sarge scrutinized the screen again. ‘Are you sure about the height? A hundred and sixty-one that sounds tall to me. I don’t know centimetres but that sounds an awful lot... I think it’s probably more like six foot. Don’t you think? I think you made an error in your calculation, Hopie.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed the duty Inspector. ‘A hundred and sixty-one probably equates to more like six foot, I’d say.’

  ‘Heavens above. Give me strength...’ Hopie commented. ‘Does it say what gender the subject is? What sex? It must be on there somewhere....’

  ‘Well these days...’ Moyes shook his head, ‘One can never be too sure, can one?’

  ‘Well, exactly...’ agreed the inspector. ‘These days it’s not actually as accurate and relevant as it once was...’

  ‘Here,’ said Moyes. ‘It says eff —’

  ‘Eff?’ she shouted

  ‘Um, no that can’t be right can it? This thing must be playing up...’ Moyes thumped the top of his monitor. Then he brought his hand to his brow to brush away sweat drops that had suddenly formed. Hopie could smell the leakage from his armpits as she moved in to examine the computer screen. The Sarge scrolled down to the bottom of the page, then up again.