The Last Laugh

by Tony Nash

  ‘I think I’ve heard of that one, but not the others. You must know an awful lot about the weather, and animals and birds.’

  ‘An’ plants too. I keeps my one good eye open, if tha’ss what you mean. You can learn a lot about nature and wild things if you watch quietly.’

  ‘Will you teach me?’

  ‘We’ll see. F’rinstance, d’ye know what this flower is called?’

  No.’

  ‘Tha’ss a marsh marigold. See how the nearm suit it – bright gold. That’n there’s marsh mallow. You see all sorts, like marsh thistle, cudweed, cinquefoil – tha’ss from the French an’ tha’ss called that ‘cos tha’ss got five points on the flower, then there’s bedstraw, helleborine , grass o’ Parnassus, and loads more.’

  They had reached the edge of the reeds, at a place where they had been trampled down and the water could be seen clearly. Sam bent down and began to lift the reeds up.

  ‘Nearly home now, Billy. Here, give me a hand.’

  ‘Where do you live then, on the water?’

  ‘You could say that, I s’pose.’

  The both lifted the reeds together and uncovered a punt concealed beneath.

  ‘A boat. Is it yours?’

  ‘Ar! It’s mine – now. And it’s called a punt.’

  ‘Punt? That’s a funny name. Why do they call it that?’

  ‘Well, tha’ss…come to think on it, I don’t rightly know…I s’pose tha’ss ‘cause tha’ss flat. Norfolk people used to use them a lot in the old days. They’ll go under low willow branches, y’see, an’ another thing is, you can lie flat in ‘em an’ not be seen, when you’re out wildfowling.’

  ‘What’s wildfowl?’

  ‘Well – hunters call just duck and geese wildfowl, though I reckon all game birds ought to be included. Come on, get in. Careful now, and sit at yon end. Where’s that dog?’

  The mongrel was nowhere to be seen, but a sudden ruckus sixty or so yards away told them where he was, and they occasionally caught glimpses of him as he attacked something in the reeds.

  Billy started to get back out of the punt, but Sam pulled him back, ‘You don’t want to get mixed up in that, Billy. You don’t know what he’re got a-hold of. That might be a rat or that might be that old vixen tha’ss always around here. She’s wi’ kit an’ if tha’ss her, she’s gornta be plenty angry. He mighta bit off more’n he can chew.’

  Billy was afraid the dog could be killed, but a final yelp saw the little animal running towards them, bleeding from its nose and ear.

  The vixen, unseen by them, slunk away through the reeds, limping.

  ‘I reckon he wish he hennta started it now.’ He waited until the dog had run up to them and jumped into the punt, looking sorry for itself as it curled up on the floorboards. Billy laughed at its expression.

  Sam pushed the punt a little farther out, got in himself, picked up the pole and used it to push a few reeds over the place where the punt had been before pushing out into the stream.

  ‘Where are we going, up the river?’

  ‘’Tain’t a river, tha’ss a broad; a kind o’ lake, an’ my island’s in the middle on’t. No one can find us there.’

  ‘Have they ever looked for you?’

  Sam rubbed his chin, ‘Well, His Lordship don’t exactly take kindly to me eatin’ his birds. He’re hed his keepers out after me a time or two, tho’ they don’t try too hard.’

  Billy rummaged around in his trouser pocket and brought out a plastic bag with two sweets in it. He held it out.

  ‘D’you like a sweet?’

  ‘Very civil of you, lad, but I hen’t hed a sweet for many a year. Can’t afford to hev to see a dentist, can I?’

  ‘Oh. D’you think I ought to eat one?’

  Sam laughed, ‘Ar. No harm done there; you’ll be getting’ a new set o’ choppers afore long.’

  ‘I’ve got most of them.’ He popped the sweet into his mouth and started sucking before asking, ‘What would they do to you if they caught you?’

  Sam over-reacted, ‘What d’you me…’ He realised it was an innocent question, ‘Oh. His Lordship’s men, you mean? Put me in prison for a month or two, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  ‘What, for eating a bird? That’s…that’s…’

  ‘…The way of the world for people like us, Billy. We’re supposed to conform – be like everyone else – wash every mornin’, live in a two-up, two-down box, eat three square meals a day, an’ go ter work. Here we are.’

  Sam poled the punt through thick reeds and under the branches of an overhanging willow tree. He stood up, jumped over the front of the punt and pulled it up onto the low bank.

  ‘Here ‘tis, then – home, sweet home. Out you jump. We’ll take the game to the hut an’ then see if we can’t catch some perch for supper. Ever fished for perch?’

  Billy shook his head sadly, ‘I’ve only been fishing once. They won’t let me go on my own, and Dad…never has time.’ He looked carefully at the old man, ‘Are you all right? You don’t look very well.’

  ‘It’s all right – not getting’ any younger, tha’ss all. Here, help me cover the punt.’

  Mukki had jumped out immediately behind the old man and ran quickly away from the water’s edge, going mad for a few seconds, chasing his tail and running around furiously, barking loudly. Suddenly he stopped and sat down, panting.

  Sam had removed the rabbit and the pheasants from the punt and laid them on the bank. He and Billy stopped pulling the reeds over the punt to watch the dog. They were both laughing at his antics, but Sam’s laughter dissolved into a wracking coughing fit. Billy looked concerned until the fit ended with Sam wiping his mouth with the old piece of rag, turning away to do so.

  He turned back to Billy, ‘Y’see, lad – nothin’ wrong wi’ me ‘cept deficiency.’

  ‘Deficiency?’

  ‘Ar – youth deficiency.’ Sam cackled, ‘Come on, bring the rabbit.’

  He picked up the pheasants and they walked past the dog, which hadn’t moved again. Billy bent to stroke him and got a tail wag for his trouble. The dog seemed back to normal.

  Billy asked, ‘Is he okay, d’you think?’

  ‘Ar. Jus’ glad t’be on the dry, I reckon. Come on – this way.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Heini handed over the supervision of the loading of the return cargo to his first mate. They were going to miss their departure date, and delivery date in Alexandria, with the ship under port arrest.

  It was his fault, and the owners of the line were renowned for sacking anyone who caused the slightest problem. He could see himself ‘on the beach’ and drawing unemployment benefit in the very near future. Worse, he was worried about his dogs, which were the only family he had.

  He went below and to the kennel, unlocked it and entered.

  Moos was lying on his bed and neither moved nor wagged his tail when his master spoke to him, ‘Na, Moos. Komm, Junge.’

  He bent to stroke the dog, and Moos moved his head just a little.

  ‘Was ist’n los?’

  He pulled the dog up and ruffled its head, but the Doberman did not respond. He lifted it to its feet and it took two faltering steps, as if it were lame, and collapsed.

  Heini thought he knew why, ‘Ach, so – ich verstehe; Mukki ist nicht hier. Na, ja. Sorge nicht, mein Junge – wir finden ihn bald.’

  He ruffled the fur on the dog’s head again, rose, and left the kennel, locking the door firmly behind him.

  He went back to the loading, but was worrying all the time, and had enough experience to know that worry and work, using heavy machinery, did not go well together and was asking for an accident. He turned over the supervision again, and went back downstairs and into the kennel.

  He stood watching the unmoving dog, still lying where it was when he was last in the kennel. It was not moving a muscle.

  There was something wrong, and he felt he ought to call in a vet, but still hesitated, believing that the animal was just fretting for Mukki.
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br />   Deciding to leave it for now, he walked over to the dog and bent down to stroke it. Moos opened his eyes and tried to move his head, but could not. He bared his teeth and growled savagely at Heini.

  The captain pulled back his hand, but then tried again. The growls came again

  Heini was astonished. Moos was such a friendly dog.

  He stood up, a worried frown on his face. He suddenly remembered Moos and Mukki both being bitten by a watchman’s dog in Bergen.

  Light dawned, ‘Na – so ‘was.’

  He knew he had to find a vet.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Billy’s mother and father had stopped searching when they received the call from Yarmouth police, and they entered Transome’s office eagerly, accompanied by Carole Somerset.

  Mr Harsley urged, ‘You have some news? Oh, my God!’ His voice died at sight of the jacket, lying on Transome’s desk.

  Billy’s mother had seen it too and began to cry, ‘Oooh. Billy!’ She turned to her husband, eyes closed and face twisted in anguish, and he took her in his arms and tried to comfort her.

  Transome motioned with his hand for the man to place his wife in a chair. He did so, and she slowly regained some control of her emotions.

  ‘Mrs Harsley, I…’

  ‘No, Inspector, please…I’m alright now. You want me to look at the jacket?’

  She got up to take the jacket from the desk but Transome leapt to his feet and passed it to her. She opened it and looked at the label inside the neckband, although she knew it was Billy’s, without the need for a check. She breathed deeply, fighting the tears.

  ‘It’s Billy’s.’

  ‘There is no question about it?’

  ‘None. I mark all his clothes with this ribbon, in case he loses them at school. Is he…is he…’

  ‘We don’t know. He might easily have lost the jacket, or thrown it away, perhaps.’

  ‘But it’s wet and smells of the sea. Was it in the sea? Is he in the sea?’

  Transome lied, ‘We believe he’s somewhere out on the marshes, and we will be doing a full search. Now don’t worry; go home and try to relax. We will be following this lead, along with all the others.’

  ‘Others?’

  Transome was caught in the lie, and panic caused bile to start rising in his throat. He clutched at a straw he had already discarded, ‘One of our constables thought he saw Billy earlier.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Near Horsey.’

  ‘That’s miles away; how would he get there? And did you find the jacket near there?’

  ‘No. It was in the sea, just north of Caister, but there is no sign of Billy, and we think he may have just lost it.’

  Mrs Harsley burst into deep sobs, and her husband looked angrily at Transome. The inspector shrugged, helplessly.

  He felt relief when the door closed behind them.

  Carole Somerset came back a few moments later. She said nothing and walked over to the filing cabinet, went onto her knees and pulled open the bottom drawer.

  Transome asked, ‘I suppose you think I could have handled that better?’

  She sniffed, ‘Not for me to say…Sir.’ She carried on looking at the files.

  ‘What the hell are you looking for, Sergeant? Leave it. There’ll still be some evil left for tomorrow.’

  ‘Not if you had your way…Sir!’

  ‘Mind reader.’

  ‘With the company I have to keep it comes naturally.’

  ‘What are you after there, anyway? Those are the old ‘unsolved’ cases, aren’t they?’

  ‘There was a whole bunch of reports here on that ‘old man of the marsh’. I thought if he exists, maybe he could tell us something. Perhaps it was Billy that PC Argyle saw…’

  Transome interrupted her, ‘You’re talking through the back of your whistle. It’s impossible, and you know it. That dog, and it’s a small one, mind, would have had to run like a racehorse to get there in time to be seen by Argyle, and those old wives’ tales about the marsh-man…’

  ‘It’s a whole lot better than sitting around on our big fats, waiting for something to happen.’

  ‘Well, nothing is what you’ve got, so leave it. It’s a waste of time. Get on with something important – there’s enough work to do around here, God knows. You’ve got those three live burglaries last night alone.’

  ‘You think you’re never wrong, don’t you…Sir?’

  He ignored the insubordination, since they were alone, and said nonchalantly, ‘Oh, I don’t know…I thought I was wrong once last year when…’

  ‘…You thought you’d made a mistake and hadn’t. God! If I had a pound for every time I’ve heard that one.’

  He grinned, got out of his chair and crossed to where she was still kneeling, having gone back to her research. He put his hands under her arms and lifted, ‘I like to see a dedicated officer, but don’t you think it could wait? I need food.’

  ‘If I had a video of that, I’d have your rank off you for sexual assault. Since I haven’t I must admit that my stomach is telling me my throat has been cut. So we could….’

  The phone rang and Transome almost used the ‘F’ word. Seeing Carole’s warning finger he managed to stop the utterance, and changed it to, ‘Blast!’

  He went over to the phone and lifted the receiver.

  ‘Transome…Oh, yes, Sir…is he sure? Oh, of course not, but suspected? The Eisenstern? Yes, that’s the ship…I’m on my way.’ He began to lower the phone but heard his correspondent say something else that he couldn’t catch. He brought the receiver back to his ear, ‘Yes…yes, of course I will.’ He hung up, his face serious.

  ‘Now we have got trouble.’

  ‘That bad?’

  ‘The other dog has suspected rabies.’

  ‘Oh, no!’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Detective Chief Inspector Tony Dyce was enjoying a cup of coffee on the terrace of his new home, Wattisham Hall, when his phone rang.

  Jane watched his face. She could hear that it was a female voice on the other end, but could not make out what was being said. His frown told her that it was serious.

  He just said, ‘Thank you, Carole.’ And ended the call.

  Jane cocked her head to one side, ‘Carole – don’t tell me you have a secret lover?’

  He laughed, ‘I’m not going to say, “I should be so lucky”. It would only get me into trouble. Don’t you remember Carole Somerset?’

  ‘Of course. She was the one you used undercover on the Fakenham job. You said she did a terrific job and you rounded up eleven members of the gang she’d infiltrated. You were instrumental in having her promoted to sergeant.’

  ‘That’s the one. It was Carole on the phone – there’s a young lad missing in the Yarmouth area.’

  ‘A kidnap?’

  ‘No, a runaway, but it’s something we’ll have to watch. Handsome Transome has recently been posted to Yarmouth and is handling it. He has decided not to do a kidnap-style search. Somerset thought I should know about it. I don’t want to step on his toes at this point; it’s his call, at least for now. Handsome’s not too bad, but he’s still a bit green, and liable to make the odd wrong judgement call. The boy who’s missing has done it three times before and always found somewhere local to hide out. Handsome’s having a house-to-house done in the Town. He’s informed the media too, so it’ll probably be an easy one and I won’t need to become involved.’

  ‘So you’re using her as a spy?’

  ‘A harsh word, darling. I prefer ‘insider’. He really should have informed me of the situation.’

  ‘Perhaps he intends to.’

  ‘If that’s so, he’s a bit tardy. I think he’s too worried about having his new-found authority undermined.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t do that, would you?’

  ‘Only if he was making a pig’s ear of it.’

  ‘Did I hear something about a dog?’

  He laughed, ‘Not only do we have a missing boy; we als
o have a missing dog in Yarmouth. Perhaps they’re doing a double act. Carole thought she’d better tell me, since Handsome doesn’t seem to be going to..’

  ‘There shouldn’t be any problem with the dog, surely – they go missing all the time?’

  ‘Not off German freighters, they don’t. The dog managed to escape from a ship called the Eisenstern – the Iron Star, tied up to the wharf.’

  ‘Are its injections up to date?’

  ‘Apparently not. There are two dogs, and they live on board, and don’t mix with others.’

  ‘So there could be…’

  ‘Jane, don’t even think it. My worst nightmare. Let’s hope they find the little devil quickly and get him back on the ship.’

  ‘I take it you believe you should get involved?’

  He nodded grimly, ‘Not only do I have two murders to solve, now we could have the first ever English case of rabies loose in Norfolk – and the rabid dog may be accompanied by that eleven-year-old runaway, who now appears to be lost out on the marshes. Add to that a green nincompoop like Transome in charge, and it turns into a developing nightmare.’

  ‘I thought you liked him.’

  ‘I did when he was a constable – he was bright and efficient, and knew his place in the hierarchy and how to take orders, but promotion seems to have gone to his head. His write-up from Bramshill says that he finished the course with barely acceptable marks, but his tutors felt he has too high an opinion of himself and needs to be overseen. They should have said ‘watched’.’

  He speed-dialled the Divisional Veterinary Officer, ex-Metropolitan Police, like himself, and a shooting pal.

  ‘David. Tony Dyce. The dog in Yarmouth – what’s the latest?’

  The DVO told him, ‘I immediately set up the five-mile barrier, so we should easily pick it up.’

  ‘You’re going to have to think again, David – I’m pretty sure that animal has been seen on Horsey Mere, in the company of a small boy.’

  ‘But Transome told me it came off a ship in the harbour. It hasn’t had time to go that far. If it were a greyhound, maybe, but a little terrier?’

  ‘Nevertheless. I believe it possible.’

  ‘Okay then, I’ll take your word for it and go to Level Three now. Thanks for the info. That’s two problems I’ve got. One of the local vets has just rung in and said he has a suspected case of rabies in the Town, as well.’