Farm Kill

by Robert W Fisk

  Richard had not thought of that possibility. He thought for a moment then said, "Look, if he catches up with the kids, he will either bring them here, or to his place. If he goes back to his place, we can say we have been looking for Jo and Lance, and thank him for finding them."

  "Or perhaps he could go with them for help,"" said Alex. "I think we should both go over to the other farm. I think it's the most natural thing to do, given that our fears about Zinsli are based on the drawings of an autistic boy."

  Alex had taught in a special school for children with behavioural and communication difficulties, before the Ministry of Education did away with such institutions and placed difficult children of all types in the mainstream classrooms.

  "Yes, I think he is autistic," said Richard. "Remember in Malaysia? Kwan Li's little boy?"

  Richard had mentored a colleague who had an autistic son. He knew how hard it was dealing with a seven year old who was not toilet trained and had the language ability of a two year old. Lance was a little older and toilet trained but he could only speak through a third party. At least they had some experience to help them. On the other hand, Jo had no experience but was able to relate to Lance better than the adults could.

  It was agreed that they should go to Zinsli's together. It was what ordinary people would do in the circumstances. Zinsli would go to his own house if he brought the youngsters back with him and found no-one at home.

  The pair of them set off for the other farm. There seemed to be a track across the meadow where cows grazed contentedly. They walked hand in hand to the pond. They crossed the causeway that held the water in place. There were no signs of damage, unlike on the other side of the river. They walked on what appeared to be a foot track used by Philip and Sally to get to the pond. The track led up a slope and over the top of the rolling slope.

  They came to a road, obviously the main access to the farm. It was fenced on either side. The road had not been damaged but there were some slips and rock falls here and there. It took some time to get to the house. There were the normal farm sheds near the house. Usually, in the country, doors are left unlocked but all of the sheds had padlocks on them. Perhaps Philip had experience of theft from his sheds.

  The house was built of wood, with a corrugated iron roof and a low verandah. A collection of shoes and boots lined the area around the doorway. Richard banged on the door and waited. Nobody came. Alex reached across to try the door.

  The door was locked. T

  "That' strange," said Alex. "Where's Sally?"

  "Look in the window," said Alex.

  Richard peered in the front window. "It's a mess. The ceilings have fallen in. It's worse than Greg's cottage."

  "Is anyone inside?" asked Alex.

  "If there is someone, they might be dead. There is no moaning."

  "Can you break the door down?" asked Alex.

  "In your dreams or on TV," said Richard. "Breaking down doors is not easy. Let's try the windows."

  Round the back, the windows of a bedroom had fallen in. The shaking had broken the glass, leaving jagged shards. They looked into the bedroom. They could see a double bed. Only one side of the bed had been slept in.

  The jagged glass was too dangerous to climb through. A nearby toilet window was held open by the window latch, a flat rod with holes in it for a small post mounted on the sill.

  "Your turn," he said. "The toilet is probably the safest room in the house. But be very careful."

  He helped Alex climb through the window.

  "What a stink. It's an awful smell, like the toilet hasn't been flushed." said Alex. "Oh, my God! The earthquake has flattened everything. I can see through the open door. Everything has fallen off the walls. There are huge cracks up the walls. The ceilings have fallen down, and long pieces of wood are dangling down."

  "Slip into the next room, the bathroom by the look of the glass in the window. Open up for me."

  Richard was right. The room next door was a bathroom. The hot water cylinder had been torn form its mountings. There was water all over the floor and through the house.

  "Richard, the cylinder has fallen and water is going everywhere," said Alex. She opened the bathroom window, which was lower than the toilet window and large enough for Richard to heave himself through.

  "Let's see," said Richard. There should be a stop tap along the pipes somewhere."

  He quickly found the stop tap and turned it off. Farms usually collected rain water in tanks. Pressure was usually very low. Even so, Zinsli would have lost a great deal of his precious water supply.

  "I think that's the least of his worries," thought Richard.

  Another aftershock moved the house, which rocked alarmingly. A rafter, detached from the roof, fell into a nearby room. A loud crash and the sound of glass smashing came from the rear of the house.

  "Stay here, Alex," said Richard. "It's too dangerous to move around. We'll have to get out of here but first I want to turn off the power at the switchboard."

  There was a switchboard in the passageway. Richard moved off, returning shortly and saying, "I've turned off all the power so the water pump is shut down. It will also lessen the risk of fire when the power comes back on. Let's go. The whole place is about to fall down."

  Alex had ignored Richard's warning. She was looking through drawers in the smaller bedroom.

  "Richard, they are sleeping apart," she called from what was obviously Sally's bedroom. He heard a wardrobe door open. "In fact, I think she has left home."

  Richard stepped over fallen timbers and wallboard. He could see through to a kitchen where a refrigerator had fallen over and lay on its side with its contents spilled across the floor.

  "There's a locked drawer," said Alex.

  "Don't touch anything," said Richard. "It's private."

  "We need to know," said Alex, but did not specify what they needed to know. She found a key hanging on a china tree that was made to have rings dangling from it.

  "Richard," Alex said. "Look at this."

  Richard looked at the ring-tree. "I'll buy you one for Christmas," he said.

  "Not the ring tree. Look at the rings. Don't you understand?" asked Alex. Richard didn't understand. He stood looking at the ring tree wondering what Alex meant.

  There was less damage in the smaller bedroom. Part of the ceiling hung down, a long flat piece of sheeting forming an arch over Alex's head.

  "Careful," said Richard. "That plaster board will fall on you."

  "Hang on a minute, Richard," said Alex. "I need to open this drawer."

  She fiddled with the key. Inside the drawer were some papers and under the papers was a diary. Alex picked everything up.

  "Time to get out before there is another aftershock," said Richard.

  They both left through the bathroom window. Outside, they looked at each other and laughed in amusement and relief. They looked like ghosts, covered in grey dust.

  "There'll be water at the barn" said Alex.

  They walked over to the barn. There was a tap on an upstand at the corner of the building. They splashed water over their faces. Richard put his head under the slow flowing stream of water from the tap in order to wash his hair.

  "You went grey very quickly, my dear," he said.

  "One more word from you and I'll sleep in the spare bedroom," laughed Alex. She took her turn to rinse her hair under the tap.

  When she had wrung the water out of her hair, she dried her hands on her blouse before putting it back on.

  "Let's look at these papers," said Richard.

  The box contained a letter from the Family Court acknowledging the separation of Sally Anne Somerville from Gregory Alan Somerville. It was dated from two years before.

  Alex began to read the diary.

  "She's not pregnant," she said. "Like a lot of women, she notes her monthly cycle. There's a lot here about being bullied into agreeing. Agreeing to what? There's a long bit about how much she misses Greg and how sorry she is she couldn't cope with L
ance."

  "Sorry? She deserves a medal holding out with an autistic kid for eight years," said Richard.

  "One. She's not in the house. Two. Her good undies are not in her drawer," said Alex. "Three. Her good clothes are gone. By the look of the empty hangers she didn't have many of those. Same with her shoes. No dress shoes, no heels. The old ones are here. No joggers. But she can't have left without her rings. No way. "

  "Could be out on the farm doing the evening chores, wearing her best clothes," joked Richard.

  He immediately regretted what he had said as Alex glared at him. Then Alex's warning about rings dawned on him. Now he understood about the rings. A woman who was running away would take her jewellery with her. She would not leave her rings behind. Someone had packed for her, probably a man. That might be an innocent act but it might also be something more sinister.

  Alex said, "Let's go and look round the farm. She might just be lying out there, hurt in the quake."

  "Or her husband might want to make it look like she has run away," said Richard. "He could be out on the farm burying her in some crevice."

  Leaving the papers under a large rock used to hold a door open, they passed by the sheds on their way to the yards. There was nothing in the yards. They walked past the chicken run. The hens were scratching in the dry soil. They ran towards Richard and Alex, searching for food. Alex opened their gate to let them out to forage.

  "One farm to look after is enough," said Richard. "Keep walking."

  28.

  They brushed through the hens which soon lost interest and returned to their scratching. The next paddock was empty. In the early days it would have held horses needed for farm work and for transport. Richard said he thought that the two farms had been Ballot Farms. After the First World War, the government of the day resettled soldiers and developed the farming industry by releasing five hundred acre blocks of government land.

  The idea had been good and in many places successful farms developed. However, the nature of the land had not been taken into account so many marginal farms failed. In this countryside, making a living off the land would have been difficult. Greg's dairy flats were productive, but really, both farms needed to amalgamate to make a viable hill country unit.

  They had come a long way with no sign of life. They decided to go just a little further before turning back. Richard suggested that they climb up to the top of a small hill from where they would see across the farm. The slope of the field they had to climb had a gigantic split in it, starting along the flat where they stood and then zigzagging up and across the hillside.

  "There's someone," said Alex. "Look. In the crack."

  The crack in the ground was about half a metre across, wide enough to fall into but narrow enough to climb out of once the ground stopped heaving. As if in warning, the ground shook with an aftershock.

  "It's Sally. She moved," said Alex. "I think she waved. I think she needs help."

  Alex in front, Richard following behind, the Wests moved towards the figure they could see lying in the split in the ground. How had she come to fall in the gap between the sheets of earth? Was she out checking the sheep? Or was she checking on the damage to the fences? That would make sense of the rings: she was ready to leave when the earthquake struck, and went to check on the farm. Rather unlikely, he thought.

  They reached the place where the woman lay. They found not a young woman alive and waving for help but a decomposed skeleton in women's clothing which flapped in the slight breeze. This woman had been dead for a long time. She hadn't fallen into the earth; she had been thrown up from under the ground.

  Richard felt ghoulish taking photos on his cell phone. To save his battery he limited how many pictures he took. He recorded where and how the body lay, her clothing, the hair that clung to her head, and the mark of a sharp knife where her throat would have been .

  "Nobody else has been here, that I can tell," said Alex. "Look, we have made prints in the soft earth. Only our footprints. No-one else has been here."

  "She must have been killed and then buried out on the farm," said Richard. "If she died of natural causes, she would not have been buried like this. And there on the bones of her neck is a cut from a knife. Is she Philip's missing wife? The woman whose place was taken by Sally?"

  "Let's get out of here," said Alex. "Just leave her as she is."

  "No," said Richard. "We'll cover her up. It's only decent."

  "I'm not touching her," said Alex. "She'll fall apart if you try to move her."

  Richard climbed into the gap, pressing his shoes into the walls of the crack. He dug with his hands, clearing the soft earth from beneath the corpse, which slowly sank back into the crack in the earth.

  Alex helped him push soil and some rocks on top of the body. It was a shallow covering but the best they could do. Wild pigs might disturb her, or hawks or dogs but there was little else they could do. At least the body was out of sight and Zinsli was nowhere around to see that they had discovered the body.

  Richard tried his cell phone again. There was still no service.

  "Let's go back to the house," said Richard. With Alex beside him, he walked slowly down the slope and across the pasture. They followed a fence line to a gate and went through. Where was all the stock? Greg's farm had goats and sheep and a few cows. This farm had some sheep on a distant hillside. They had not seen any dogs, which were essential for a farmer.

  The mystery of the dogs was resolved as they approached the house again. The kennels were on the far side of a large shed. There were two dogs. They looked like yard dogs, used to move sheep in the yards rather than out on the farm meadows. They were curled up, not moving and not barking. Another aftershock rippled through the farm. The dogs did not stir. Richard held Alex as the ground shook. The noise sounded like a train, which rumbled away into the distance as the shaking subsided. There was a crash from the house.

  "More ceiling falling," said Richard.

  "The dogs need water," said Alex. She went to a barrel that took rain from a pipe from the roof. Beside it was a saucepan which Alex dipped in the water. She poured some in each dog's dish. The dogs were separated, each on the end of a chain. The ground around was fouled.

  "Dogs are usually clean," said Alex. "These have been chained up since yesterday."

  "There are three more chains and kennels," said Richard. "I think perhaps Zinsli has them on the back of his truck. Maybe doing the rounds on the farm." Maybe he went to town for some reason."

  The dogs finished their water very quickly. Alex said, "Good boys." even though one was a bitch. "No more now. Drink too much, bad stomach."

  Richard and Alex left the dogs, which whined at their leaving, showing that they had perked up a little.

  "We'll have to find some biscuits or dog food," said Alex.

  "I want to know what the crash was over at the house when the aftershock hit," said Richard.

  They walked towards the house. The dogs were silent again. In the dusty earth, their feet made a muffled thud as they walked. They reached the house. A sheet of iron made a regular creaking sound as it swung slowly back and forth.

  "Listen," said Alex.

  "I hear it," said Richard. "It's a sheet of corrugated iron."

  "No," said Alex. "I heard someone."

  They listened. A sense of fear ran through them both. Richard bunched his fists as men do when feeling threatened. 'Bang. Bang' went the sheet of tin. A ghostly moan came faintly through the evening air.

  "It's one of the dogs," said Richard. "He's feeling hungry."

  "There's no-one around," said Alex. She felt strongly about the suffering of animals. "Let's find the dog food."

  On farms, wild animals such as goats and opossums were killed and dressed then stored in a freezer. Some farms had a stand-alone freezer-room, especially if the farmers were licensed to sell farm killed meat. This was a run-down farm. Zinsli could well be making his income as a butcher.

  Richard's thoughts were confirmed. In a
garage they found a large freezer truck. An electric cable plugged into the wall led to a motor on top of the cab. Without power the motor was silent.

  The back door of the truck was secured by a padlock. The space next to the truck was empty; Zinsli's farm truck was gone. That explained one absence. Richard and Alex looked around the empty garage for something to break the padlock on the rear doors of the freezer truck. Leaning against the wall was a hammer. Richard walked across the garage and picked it up. He aimed a blow at the lock but did not hit it cleanly. He tried again with the same result.

  "Here let me," said Alex.

  "You can't do it any better. It's because the shackle is round," said Richard.

  "Not the hammer, silly," responded Alex. "This."

  She held up a key.

  "Where was that?"

  "On a nail beside the side door," said Alex. "Dad always hung his keys there. Mum always wondered why Dad put half empty ice cream containers in the freezer."

  "The police chief's daughter admits she's a thief," said Richard, in what he thought was a lawyer's voice. "That's why you're so fat."

  "Richard, I'll divorce you, I really will," said Alex who remained a small slim lady no matter what or how much she ate.

  The padlock came out of the staple. Richard lifted the hasp and then swung open the freezer truck door so they could get something for the dogs.

  "Oh, no!" said Richard.

  "What is it?" asked Alex, pushing past Richard so that she could see what had made Richard jerk back.

  "Oh, my God!" she whispered. "Both of them. Are they ... dead?"

  In front of them lay two bodies huddled together. Richard looked at Greg. He reached out and touched Greg's neck.

  "I'm not sure. I can feel a faint pulse, I think, but the skin is very cold."

  "What about the woman? Is it Ashleigh?"

  Richard felt her neck. "Yes. This one must be Greg; he's lying on her," Richard replied. "I'll have to move him."

  Lifting Greg to move him aside caused him to roll away from the woman. There was no rigor mortis. Greg's body was still flexible. He was wearing a pyjama top and blue jeans. He had no socks on, just his unlaced boots. Richard gazed at the woman.