The animal could kill him.
As his legs gave way and his body slammed into the mud Sam called out for his brother.
“Joel!”
But nobody came.
Another scream, then Hercules rammed into him, slamming Sam face down into the mud.
Then — the boar was on top of him while Sam flailed with his arms, legs — as he tried hopelessly to breathe.
And worse.
He felt that blunt snout at the base of his spine … mouth opening.
Then closing.
4. The Morning After
Sarah picked up the phone in her office — the press of projects that simply had to be done before the holiday crush had now become immense.
What a morning! She and Grace were swamped.
Expecting a client, she heard the welcome voice of Tony Standish.
“Tony, that was mayhem on Friday. What do—”
But Tony quickly cut her off, his voice sounding — concerned?
“Sarah, do you think you could pop over?”
Then — a telling bit of information, “I’ve asked Jack as well, and he’s due in about ten …”
Jack.
That — she knew — could only mean one thing.
“Of course. Let me save some files, and I’ll be right over.”
“Thanks so much. See you shortly.”
Sarah could hear the relief in Tony’s voice.
Did this have to do with the Parish Council meeting?
And why in the world would Tony want Jack and her to come for a chat?
And though terribly busy — ‘maxed out’, she guessed would be the expression Jack would use — she turned to Grace, “Got to dash to a meeting with Tony Standish. I’ll try to make it quick.”
And Grace, who was always as good as her name, just smiled.
“No worries. I’ll hold the fort while you're away.”
Sarah smiled back, grabbed her coat and headed down to the street.
*
She entered the office, escorted by Tony’s prim and plump receptionist. Jack already there, his brow furrowed.
“Jack, good to see you.”
He smiled and nodded.
Already, she guessed, lost to whatever Tony must have started to talk about.
“Hi Sarah, thanks for coming. I was just telling Jack here about what happened on Friday night.”
She took a seat. Another look at Jack, whose face always registered when he was already deep in thought.
About possibilities. About what was going on.
“The meeting? You mean that ruckus?”
Tony shook his head and took the seat behind his dark, mahogany desk — its surface as orderly as the solicitor himself.
“Something happened to Sam Lewis.”
Sarah knew the name — then remembered. The hippy who’d taken the mic and made a speech …
“Quite a character,” she said. “I imagine he’s still got a bit of a sore head.”
“More than a sore head, I’m afraid,” said Tony. “In fact, this is rather grisly Sarah, but—”
And Sarah listened as Tony described what seemed to have occurred … a gate left open, his prize and aggressive boar getting into an area where Sam was, tending to the sows.
And the boar — well, even Tony had a hard time making the description at all delicate.
“You see, the beast knocked him down, and well — Sam never got up. Not a pretty sight, according to Alan.”
Only now did Jack turn to her, making eye contact.
She wondered why Tony had called them both over to talk about an accident on a farm.
“And what else does Alan say?”
“Well, he says it looks like it is … well, exactly what it looks like. A very drunken Sam — we know that because Billy had to kick him out of the Ploughman’s — stumbles and not knowing a gate or some such was left open, comes face to face with a 400-pound wild animal that didn’t care that Sam was its keeper.”
“An accident,” Jack said.
Tony looked away. “And it could be. I mean, I suppose that is what happened. Makes sense after all.”
“But you don’t think so?” Sarah said.
And now Tony leaned forward, and lowered his voice as if — in his own office — the walls had ears.
“You saw … heard what happened on Friday. There’s a lot of division in the village. Emotions running high. Apparently if the police from Oxford hadn’t turned up in force we might have had a full-scale riot.”
“Sounds like I missed quite the show,” said Jack.
“It was terrible,” Tony said. “Fisticuffs! People ending up in hospital.”
“But Tony, that level of feeling was hardly surprising,” said Sarah. “I mean — you voted to give the council’s approval, to tell Zakro—”
Tony put his hands up. “That was the democratic vote, according to our due processes and so on. As it happens, I voted ‘nay’. But the ‘yeas’ carried the day.”
“Quite a quick vote, too. Hardly took them more than a couple of minutes discussion,” said Sarah. “Didn’t that seem … unusual to you?
Tony frowned. “It did. But I can’t — mustn’t — speculate on why.”
Sarah looked over at Jack who seemed to be taking it all in.
Presumably small town politics was the same the world over …
And that decision was decidedly fishy.
“Do you think some of the ‘yes’ supporters could have gone after Sam Lewis?” said Sarah. “Carried on the fight later that night?”
Tony shrugged.
“There were some pretty unsavoury types mixed in with the protest, Jack. I don’t think they’d blink at the idea of using all the mayhem to settle some old grudges.”
“But why him?” said Jack. “What’s so special?”
“Sam was quite a voluble opponent,” said Tony. “But also he could easily slow the whole thing down. His farm is right next door to the project, he could demand environmental impact studies, and so on.”
“But not now …” Sarah said.
Tony leaned back.
“Precisely.”
And Jack, who had been so quiet, stood up. Tony’s office was small, making Jack — tall, broad — look even larger.
“Asking us to get involved — it’s quite the step, Tony,” said Jack. “Do you really think somebody … set that up … to kill Sam Lewis?”
“You know I can’t possibly say that. But I am … disturbed … by the timing.”
“But you’d like us to look into it?”
The solicitor nodded. “I’d be ever so grateful, Jack. You too, Sarah. Here’s my worry. If something happened, that in some bizarre way, wasn't an accident, and if it reflected on the Parish Council … after the twinning debacle? That would be just awful. I love this village. And I’ll do anything I can to protect it.”
“As would I,” said Jack, standing at the windows that overlooked the central square.
Then he turned to Sarah.
“I know this is a very busy time for you Sarah … so maybe …”
She shook her head.
True — incredibly busy. Good for business, certainly, but seriously stressful.
But this was Tony asking.
And when she heard Jack’s words, she realised, that this was her village too. One that — for all its faults — she had come to like even more lately, precisely because she had been able to see it through Jack’s eyes.
“I can make time. Kids all sorted, no major school stuff due before the Christmas break. And Grace — well, I think I’ll be working for her someday.”
She took a breath. “I want to help.”
Jack smiled.
Tony was beaming as well.
“And if there’s anything I can do to help. Strings pulled, that sort of thing, let me know?”
“You got it,” Jacks said.
“And where do you think you’ll start?”
“Maybe the last place Sam was seen a
live?”
“The Ploughman’s?”
“Then the farm. Sarah — know anything about raising wild boars?’
“Not a thing.”
“Good. We can get educated. There’s a brother?”
“Yes. Joel. Distraught, I imagine, but I expect he’ll talk with you.”
Jack nodded.
And Sarah stood up — for the moment pushing away thoughts of projects pending and deadlines — ready to see what they could learn about Sam Lewis, his farm, and all the people who actually wanted Zakro Corp. to build a giant store right on the field where once stood an ancient village.
5. When Last Seen
Billy walked Jack and Sarah to a corner table.
Sarah knew that the pub had already been open an hour. But even for the lunchtime die-hards, it was still way too early.
He pulled a chair out for her, then Jack.
“Your daughter — was she working last Friday night?” said Jack.
Lisa was cleaning up behind the bar.
“Um, yes.”
“You think she could join us as well?”
Billy called Lisa over who wiped her hands on her apron, and came to the corner table.
They had both heard about what had happened to Sam — the grapevine of Ploughman’s regulars spreading such word faster than an email blast.
“Damned shame,” Billy said. “I mean, he was a bit of nutter, alright, grant you that. But he ’ad a good heart. Loved this place.”
“And popular?” said Sarah.
“Not for me to say,” said Billy. “He bought his rounds when it was his turn. That’s all I know.”
“What about Friday night, after the meeting?” said Sarah. “Any trouble down here?”
“My locals know I won’t put up with any nonsense.”
“But people came down here directly from the Village Hall — you were busy?”
“Too right! Packed out,” said Lisa.
“You saw Sam?” said Jack.
“Couldn’t miss him,” said Lisa. “Never moved from the bar.”
“Did he say anything odd?” said Sarah. “Like he thought that maybe what he was doing, taking on Zakro, could be dangerous?
“Just the opposite,” Billy said. “Seemed right proud of the stand he made, the way he rallied the troops. Said he’d show them f-, um … show Zakro that us villagers weren’t about to just lie down and take it.”
“And people down here — the rest of the crowd — they were behind him?” said Jack.
“Not everyone,” said Lisa. “There’s some here want the supermarket, need the work—”
“There might have been a few angry words spoken,” said Billy, interrupting. “But no more than any other Friday night.”
Sarah saw Billy catch Lisa’s eye.
Was there something there? Something they weren’t saying?
She made a note to follow up on that later.
“And how bad off was Sam?” Jack asked. “I mean, by the time you gave him the heave-ho?”
“I believe the expression is ‘falling-down’? I wasn’t too happy to see him walk back to the farm.”
“He was barely able to stand at the bar,” Lisa said.
“So when he left the place was empty?” said Jack.
“Just me and Dad,” said Lisa.
“No one outside?” said Jack.
“Where’s this going, Jack?” said Billy.
“Here’s what I’m trying to find out,” Jack said. “Just hours after he leaves here — Sam’s face down in his own pens.”
“Makes no sense,” Billy said. “Got to admit.”
“Hmm?” Jack looked at Sarah.
She knew that Jack was always attentive to the moment when something was said that opened a door … to a bit of truth, to that little piece of information that they didn’t have before.
So valuable.
Required listening — and patience.
Billy looked at his daughter. Sarah knew that Lisa had some bumpy years. Now, she was back with her family, working here. She looked good.
But Sarah guessed that even Billy would want more for her.
Sarah thinking: like we all want for our kids …
“Thing is, Jack — even full sheets to the wind — Sam knew his boars, knew that bloody farm, how to handle the animals.”
“But — you think it’s a bit odd too, huh?” Jack said.
Billy shrugged. “I just don’t see Sam so drunk that he’d make a stupid mistake.”
Stupid mistake.
Interesting, thought Sarah. Is that what killed Sam Lewis? A stupid mistake?
Looking at Billy, who with Sam as a full-tilt Ploughman’s regular would know best, she knew he didn’t buy that.
Then Billy raised his finger.
“You know, I did try to help him. Last night, I mean.”
“In what way?” Sarah said.
“Offered to call his younger brother, Joel. Get him to come pick Sam up.”
Lisa nodded. “But he wouldn’t have it,” she said. “Lots of ‘I’ll be fines’, and all that.”
Billy looked away. “I should have insisted. Joel would have got him straight to bed, not mucking about with those damn wild pigs. Or whatever else happened.”
At that moment the morning’s first customer walked in.
Some pensioner who Sarah saw walking around the village, snow white hair, always a bit of loopy smile on.
Obviously liking a morning constitutional.
And a pint or three.
“Oh—” the old man said, turning to see the four of them at the corner table. “Open yet, Billy?"
Billy looked from Jack to Sarah. “We all done here?”
Sarah saw Jack shoot her a look, as if checking if she had anything else she’d like to ask. Sarah responded with a slight shake of her head.
Jack stuck out his hand to Billy. “Thanks, the two of you. Not sure this is, you know, anything. Still doesn’t hurt to ask a few questions.”
“Right.”
Then Billy, followed by his daughter, turned to the lone customer, standing at the bar as if waiting for a train.
*
“Brrr, cold one today,” Sarah said.
“You really need to experience the canyons of NYC in January.” Jack smiled at her. “Give you some perspective.”
“Um,– I think I’ll schedule my Manhattan visit in, I don’t know, August?”
“Oh, if you like humidity. Summer in the city, you know.”
Sarah laughed.
“Pretty unlikely I’ll get there this year anyway.”
Jack titled his head. “You know, we need to make that happen. For you, Daniel, Chloe. Be such fun to show you my ‘village’.”
Sarah smiled at that.
That indeed would be great.
Standing in the parking lot of the Ploughman’s, she nodded her head in the direction of the pub.
“And what do you make of that?”
“Doesn’t sound like Sam was worried he might be in danger from anyone. And with that much alcohol, well … could still be he had a nasty accident.”
Jack paused.
Sarah’s eyes on him. “But you’re not convinced?”
He laughed. “Me? Never convinced. Got one suspicious mind. So think I may noodle around a bit.”
“Like?”
“Talk to the brother. Maybe some of the other people at that meeting.” He took a breath in, followed by a cloudy vapour as he let the breath go. “That kind of violence — not normal round here.”
He turned to Sarah.
“And you’re so busy. You best get back to it, hmm? If I find anything, let you know?”
And even Sarah was surprised by how fast she shook her head, pulling her parka tight.
“Busy, yes. But I can always find time. While you do that, why don’t I do some digging into the Zakro Corporation? Other places they’ve moved in and set up shop. After all, they had the most to gain with Sam Lewis gone.”
“You don’t think they could be involved?”
“Not really. But it will be a nice distraction from doing layouts for Christmas brochures.”
“Good,” Jack said smiling. “That could be interesting.”
“And the brother?”
“I’ll head over there now. Be good to see the place where Sam died. Try to understand it.”
“He’ll probably be swamped. Making funeral preparations and so on.”
“I know. But best to hit him when it’s fresh.”
“I might do some asking around about Sam in the village. I got the impression from Billy that maybe he wasn’t loved by everyone — even before Friday.”
“Who is?” said Jack. “But you’re right — I felt that too.”
Sarah’s phone chimed.
“Text from Grace. All hands needed.”
Jack smiled. “Go on. Talk to you later after I get back from the boars.”
And, with a nod, Sarah turned and dashed up the road to the building with her office.
But when she got to the curve in the road that veered left around the Village Hall, she turned …
To see Jack still standing outside the Ploughman’s.
Standing there, thinking.
About what? His conjectures, ideas, suspicions …?
She could only guess.
6. The Wild Boar Farm
Jack had to hunt for the narrow — even by British standards — rocky, pitted lane that led to the wild boar farm.
Finally he spotted a small sign a few hundred yards past the Ingleston church that read ‘Ingleston Dyke Farm’, the wooden sign barely hanging onto a pole, titled at an odd angle.
Below it another tattered sign: ‘Organic veg. Free-range eggs. Wild boar.’
Jack drove on.
The road to the farm so filled with rocks, and deep ruts that he feared for the undercarriage of his Sprite.
This barely qualifies as a navigable road, he thought.
Long, treacherous way to walk from the village, too.
The rocky lane cut through a thick patch of woods, and when Jack bounced his way out the other end, he saw Lewis’s farm.
The house squat, weathered and even from a distance looking in desperate need of painting. Tiles missing. Gate loose on it hinges.
And across what was a giant muddy patch at the back, the splintery red barn — its sliding doors wide open.
Cherringham--Murder Most Wild Page 3
