“What the hell!” He recoiled back. It looked like a Halloween decoration that the kids had used at last year’s party — if it hadn’t been for the flesh of two of the fingers completely gnawed down, and the skeletal bones of the hand protruding like spokes in a wheel. Skin and flesh hung like torn bits of rags. Its centre had a large circular wound, the blackened edges looking ominous. The cut at the wrist was clean. As the realisation set in, something squeezed his insides. It was a human hand lying there in the dirt in front of him.
He grabbed hold of the pile of blocks to steady himself, in the process kicking a piece of corrugated iron that was leaning against them. The almighty bang made three or four rats scatter in all directions. The rat closest to Avery made its way up his right boot, until his reflexes kicked in. Swiftly shaking it off, he catapulted the creature on to a pillar with force. The rodent hit hard, making a sickening thud as it connected, falling to the ground, motionless.
Avery made a hurried escape towards the door at the far side. He flung the door open, scraping his arms as he pressed himself through the narrow entrance before collapsing on the dewy grass.
Lexi came around the corner. “What happened to you?” she said, her nursing training kicking in at the sight of him on the ground.
“It’s just a scratch,” Avery said, trying to keep his voice from wavering. A South Island man, he was used to feeling in control. “I knocked my head on a beam in there,” he said, looking towards the trellis door. “You are not going to believe me, but there’s a fucking human hand under the house. We’ll have to call the cops.” Lexi looked at him with disbelief.
“I’m serious,” he said.
“It’s probably a joke, a prop the kids have hidden under there,” she said, picking up the torch. She peeked through the small opening. “What’s that awful smell?” she burst out, pinching her nostrils with one hand.
Avery stood in the doorway directing her to the pile of Leca blocks. “Hopefully, the rats are still taking a break,” he said.
Lexi shivered, she couldn’t bear rodents. Her face serious as the apprehension was building, and she braced herself for what she would find. There was no mistaking it for being anything else than a human hand. The foul odour made her gag and she swung on her heels, desperate for fresh air in her lungs.
Avery grabbed her before she fell over, pulling her close, his stubbly chin resting on top of her head. She couldn’t remember when this had happened last and she took his scent in, savouring it. She felt safe and melted into his firm embrace. Touching her back, he cradled her.
“We have to call Bill,” he said loosening his grip, breaking the spell. Lexi nodded, unable to get any words out. She desperately wanted to recapture the early-morning calm, sipping tea in the garden, when the day still had promise in the air.
Avery still looked pale, but was slowly regaining his normal self. He went to get his mobile and called Bill, the local policeman, and family friend.
3
Tiny dust particles gently swirled in the beams of early morning sun shining through the gaps of the Venetian blinds and landing on the bed like treasure at the end of the rainbow. Bill wished that the shrill ringtone of his mobile phone hadn’t woken him. He sighed and rolled over, putting his phone back on the nightstand. It was Sunday; the police station was closed and he had enjoyed a rare sleep in, not something he normally did during the busy holiday season when the village and surrounding areas brought hordes of visitors from near and far.
Annika’s side of the bed was empty, her pillows put neatly at the head of the bed. She was an early riser and probably already out in the studio painting. A slightly annoying headache radiated across his forehead. Thankfully, it wasn’t too bad, but a few hours more sleep would have helped. By the time he had got into bed, Annika had been snoring gently and it was past two a.m. It had been a lovely barbecue last night; the neighbours had come over.
Stretching his back and shoulders he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stifled a yawn before standing up. Scratching his back he felt the round scar on his shoulder, and automatically his eyes went to the puckered crater on his lower abdomen. Sometimes he went days without thinking about it.
Bill reached for yesterday’s uniform trousers, draped over the back of the chair in the bedroom, and threw them on. He splashed some water on his face and brushed his teeth. On his side of the built-in wardrobe, there were no light-blue uniform shirts hanging. Even though Annika did most of the laundry, he helped as much as he could. He wasn’t as quick as her, but it was a weird relaxation. Over the busy summer months, however, they had fallen into a routine where it was easier that she did them, as he was often home late. He knew he was lucky to have such an amazing wife and mother of his children. Sometimes he didn’t know what he had done to deserve this stunning woman he had met in London on his working holiday. He had been flatting with Lexi and Avery. When Lexi had brought her new friend Annika to the pub after work one day, Bill thought he had died and gone to heaven. She was a stunner, almost as tall as him with an athletic build, long blonde hair falling in soft curls down her back. Her blue eyes were full of life with an infectious laugh to match. Annika was like an open book, when she was happy she shone and if something upset her, you knew it. He fell head over heels. A whirlwind romance followed, and they married within the year, with the festivities celebrated over a few days on the Swedish island of Gotland, with Bill’s immediate family flying over. The medieval setting of cobblestone streets and heritage buildings added to the magical atmosphere. He had felt so far away from his ancestors and local marae, but so close to his adopted culture that dated back to the Vikings and beyond.
“Annika, have you seen any of my work shirts?” he called as he made his way down the stairs.
“Have you looked in the laundry?” Annika responded.
Bill, woken from his daydream, went into the cramped room tucked in next to the stairs. Sure enough, there they were, an entire week’s worth of clean shirts, hanging on the rack.
“Thanks, darling,” he said walking into the kitchen while doing the buttons up, leaning forward and giving his wife a kiss. Annika smiled and ruffled his short inky hair, her glance lingering on his bright emerald-green eyes. Bill pulled her close, swallowing her slim frame in his broad embrace savouring the mixture of old-fashioned soap and floral shampoo.
“I take it you are going to work?” She smoothed out the front of his shirt, feeling his firm chest.
“I just had a call from Avery. It’s probably nothing, but he sounded upset.” Bill dialled his colleague Niko.
With the increase in population over the summer months, Headquarters had thought it appropriate to transfer a second officer to the Matakana police station. A young Samoan constable, Falaniko Sopoanga, had applied and now lived in a small flat above the bakery in the village. Bill really enjoyed the company, and having the backup should he need it. Not that there was much trouble around, apart from the odd theft or an overly refreshed holidaymaker having had too much to drink at one of the many eateries in the village. Bill had been back in the area for ten years now and hadn’t minded the automatic demotion to Sergeant in the slightest to take the Sole Charge position in the village.
“I’ll pick you up in ten minutes,” Bill said after having explained what was going on.
On his way out, Annika handed him a smoothie. “It’s green superfood, full of antioxidants, and will give you a great start to the day.” Annika was a bit of a health nut, and unfortunately for Bill vegetable smoothies were the latest craze that she was trying to get the family to embrace.
“What’s wrong with a piece of toast and a smear of Marmite?”
“This will give you the energy to think, rather than a piece of toast sitting like a lump in your stomach. Not to mention that horrible black yeasty spread on top.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know how you can eat it.”
Bill put the empty glass on the table, grabbed her waist and gave her a kiss. “Darling, I was only teasing
.”
“Ugh yuk, do you have to carry on like that?” It was their older daughter, Katie, tall and blond like her mother, cringing at her parents’ affection.
Bill winked at Katie. “That’s my cue to leave. I’ll see you girls later.”
He said it cheerfully, but in the pit of his stomach he could feel an element of worry. Avery was the quintessential hard-working, tough-as-old-boots kind of man, and he had sounded shaken. Bill started the ute, reversed, and drove along the long gravel driveway. It hadn’t rained properly for weeks and a dust cloud enveloped the police car. He turned right on the sealed Leigh road and headed towards Matakana. There was no one else on the road so it didn’t take him long to get into the village, turning right into the main street, passing the cinema and pharmacy with the bakery in between on the right. The large old pub on the left, the surf shop, Four Square supermarket and Black Dog Café were all quiet. He continued down another hundred metres until he got to the police station.
Niko was sitting on the front step of the old house, the slightly overgrown, bright pink bougainvillea shading the entrance. Bill quickly turned the car around and Niko jumped in the front, dressed immaculately as always. His hair was slicked back, still wet from the gym. His burly frame looked massive compared to Bill, even though he was close to 190 centimetres and broad-chested himself. His light brown skin was flawless, and he had more than once been mistaken for the movie star, The Rock. A Samoan tattoo showed below his short shirt sleeves. Niko came from Manurewa, one of the toughest Police districts in the country. He had been transferred up north over the summer months, and was about to go back home again as the season was coming to a close. As this was his second year in a row, Bill thought he must like it.
“Okay, Sarge, what’s your take on the call this morning?” Niko said.
“Avery is an old friend. He sounded really shaken when I spoke to him. I’m hoping the kids have pulled a silly prank on him. It’s the kind of stuff we did as teenagers.”
“Jeez, Sarge, you had a sheltered upbringing. Me and my mates were hot-wiring cars for fun,” Niko laughed.
Bill knew about Niko’s misspent youth and how close he had been to getting sucked into the seedy world of gangs and crime. Sport was his saviour.
Turning right at the roundabout and on to Matakana Road towards Warkworth, Bill didn’t have far to drive. Within a few kilometres they were at the entrance to Matakana Valley Wines.
Mature pohutukawa towered above a sea of wildflowers along the driveway. Bill remembered counting the trees as a boy; thirty to be exact, fifteen on each side. Lexi’s great-great-grandparents had planted them when they came out from Scotland in 1857 on the famous brigantine Spray. Back then they had run cattle, cows and sheep on the land, and a trip to Auckland was only possible when it was dry enough for the horse-drawn cart to get through.
Now the trees were massive, their full canopies stretching across the dusty gravel drive, meeting in the middle, shading them as they drove up to the house. Niko’s mouth dropped as they arrived at the beautiful old dame of a homestead. The yellow weatherboards and crisp white trim framing doors and windows made it look like something out of a storybook for children, a long stretch away from the cramped state houses where he had grown up. The inviting veranda with the cracked stone steps, edged by flowering white roses, made him forget for a moment why they were there.
Bill’s mind was equally wandering. Having been friends with Lexi’s older brother, he had spent many an afternoon after school here, exploring the outbuildings and surrounds.
The white picket fence surrounding the garden looked freshly painted and well maintained. At first glance, it looked idyllic, but as Lexi and Avery hurried down the path towards them, their pale faces told another story.
“Bill, I’m glad to see you mate.” Avery shook his hand firmly.
“I picked up Niko on the way.”
Avery shook Niko’s hand. “Really appreciate it.”
Bill opened the boot to get the equipment out. “Now, show me where it is.”
“The entrance is at the back,” Avery said, his discomfort clear.
As they walked across the parched lawn, Beau came bounding across to say hello, his tail wagging. Bill knelt down and gave him a good old pat.
“I’m sorry,” Lexi said, mustering a weak smile. “He’s in the habit of ambushing people and getting them to give him lots of attention.” As quickly as Beau arrived, a rabbit appeared by one of the old apple trees, and the black dog shot off like a flash.
Still on his haunches, Bill was scanning the surrounding area. It felt like a long time since he had been there. He and Niko put booties and gloves on to go under the house.
The warmth of the late summer sun caressed their backs, and an ominous feeling hung in the air. Even before Niko opened the small trellis door, the unpleasant odour permeated through. He screwed up his nose involuntarily.
“Why don’t you go back and keep Lexi company? It looks like she could do with some support,” Niko said to Avery, who seemed relieved he didn’t have to cast eyes on the limb again. Instead he just pointed out where it was. Bill pulled the door open, recoiling at the odour. He squeezed through with not too much of a problem, but Niko had to contort his body to get through. Bill switched his torch on. Even though he had to walk bent in half, he was glad the space was relatively airy, the mere thought of a cramped space was making him sweat. The smell was putrid, and the heat made it so much worse.
His brain quickly found the scent memory and brought him back to his first couple of months as a newly graduated constable. They had recovered the remains of an elderly man who had died in his small flat in the middle of a heatwave. It wasn’t until the neighbours complained of the odour that the body was discovered. The overpowering sweet cheesy stench of human waste and fluids seeping from it had made him run outside to be horribly sick. For days afterward he struggled to eat and felt unable to get rid of the terrible smell, despite how many times he showered and changed. He hadn’t smelled it for a long time, but it was etched in his memory forever.
Niko covered his nose. “Sarge, it smells like death in here.”
Bill was sure that Niko had seen his fair share of unfortunate deaths in his brief time in the police.
There was a faint buzzing from the corner. Bill saw it first. It was a human hand. The flesh of two fingers were missing, a few torn bits hanging as if he and Niko had interrupted some creature having a meal. A circular wound in the centre of the palm didn’t look like a gunshot wound — it had been made by force. The cut at the wrist was clean, probably made by a power tool as the edges were immaculate and even.
“That’s a man’s hand,” Niko said, leaning in to get a better look. “It’s swelled and not looking too great, but that definitely belonged to a bloke.” He pointed at the coarse black hair on the bloated limb.
Bill nodded. The rats had definitely had a go, he thought, but now the flies were having a field day. The stifling air combined with the intense buzzing in the cramped corner made the familiar sensory overload raise its ugly head. The space was slowly closing in, blurred vision taking hold, he needed to get some air. “Come on, Niko. We’ve seen enough.”
It was a relief to be in the open and take deep breaths, but questions whirled around; Who did the hand belong to? Where was the rest of the body? Or was the person still alive? And why was the hand under Lexi and Avery’s house?
“You all right, Sarge?” Niko asked. Bill was standing with one arm against the exterior of the house, head bent down, large sweat stains spreading under his arms.
“Yes, all good mate. Just got a bit overheated.” Bill was a proud man and had hidden his claustrophobia for most of his career. At seven he’d gone exploring behind the old marae, close to his childhood home.
His mother, Whina, had been helping the other women with a communal cook-up in the large kitchen at the marae. It was the start of the summer holidays, and his brother Hemi and sister Ata were supposed to be looking afte
r him. Being older than him, they were more interested in doing their own things and had left him to his own devices. Bill had got bored and wandered over to the old meeting house to see if any of his friends were there. Getting side-tracked, he deviated and went to explore around an old cottage on the way. The doors were all locked, and he went looking around the overgrown garden. The thigh-high grass tickled his bare legs, and he was happy. He saw the door to the old shed was slightly ajar and walked towards it, not looking where he put his feet. It wasn’t until he stepped through the rotten old planks that had covered the unused well that his brain registered what was happening. Scraping arms and legs on the way down, it felt like an eternity until he hit the cold murky water, completely submerging him, sinking into the silty bottom. Scrambling to get on his feet he clawed his way up, grabbing on to the uneven walls, coughing and spluttering until his head was above water. The muddy bottom was disgusting and full of rocks, and things like old bottles and God knows what. Once he found his balance he could stand up, the water reaching his belly button. Shivering, he moved around as best as he could, trying to warm himself. Gazing up, he realised it was too high to climb out on his own. As the cold and darkness set in and his voice grew hoarse from desperation and fright, he never thought he’d see his family again. It wasn’t until late on the second day that they found him.
Blood On Vines Page 2
