by Finn Bell
“You volunteered, Mr Bell. We tried to dissuade you from being involved, even asked you to consider leaving Riverton several times, from our very first meeting, remember?” As they say it, I remember they did, on more than one occasion. Them, and pretty much everybody else.
“As you were intent on staying, and neither we nor any of your friends could convince you to leave, we did what we could. And besides, stalking monkeys is hard. They are cunning and crafty. Stalking a pumpkin is easy,” John adds, getting a laugh from Tai.
“When did you figure it out?” Lucas asks.
“When you rescued me out from under that truck. That was you two, wasn’t it? Nobody’s that lucky. Especially me. To make it out there so fast, you had to have been expecting something, prepared,” I say, only now realising that both of them have bandages on their arms and hands.
“Yes, Mr Bell. That was us. We’ve never been far away since the investigation started. But we could not watch you 24 hours a day. And so many times, things went too far. We really did hope that you would listen and leave this town but you would not. And we could not tell you of our strategy because that would only make you more likely to stay. There were always risks. The consequences could easily have been much more serious. The past weeks have been extremely trying for all of us,” John says.
“We became immediately suspicious when we heard that you had not shown up at the hospital after Mr Bailey’s collapse as expected,” Lucas continues, and I realise with a shock that I had completely forgotten about Pruitt.
“Pruitt? Is he . . .” I ask then hesitate.
“Nah, Pruitt’s okay, bro,” Tai interrupts. “Double heart bypass, but he made it. You and Brumhilda saved his life. He’s upstairs, looks like hammered shit and he’s still being kept under sedation to keep his heartrate down, but they say he’s gonna be okay.”
As I hear the news, warm relief fills me up.
“How long has it been?” I ask.
“You’ve been out of it for about two days, Finn,” Patricia says, and I realise I must still be a bit out of it, because it’s only now that I realise she’s been holding my hand the whole time.
“You’ve got breaks and cracks, and some deep lacerations, and concussion and smoke inhalation. Again,” Patricia says, “and most of the blood in you is now from other people. But the doctors say you’re going to be okay. You were close to gone out there on the beach, but John and Lucas got to you in time.”
“You two saved my life,” I say, looking back over to the twins.
“It was in the line of duty, Mr Bell, no trouble. It took some time for word to reach us that you were not at the hospital as expected. We immediately sent out patrol cars to what was left of your cottage and to the museum, and ourselves took the chopper out from Invercargill directly over the Zoyl farm. And we arrived just in time. We spotted the fire and Sean Zoyl from the air. And he obligingly fired a rifle at us with remarkable accuracy. Up to then, we had only suspicions. He did us a great favour, really. He also shattered both the helicopter windows. The pilot was forced to land on the beach and as luck would have it, we heard you screaming as we were approaching. Getting you out was easy enough. And do not be concerned for us, please,” Lucas says, holding up his bandaged hands. “Our injuries are minor.”
“And Sean?” I ask.
“Sean Zoyl is dead, Mr Bell,” John answers immediately.
A beat, and then I can exhale.
Breathing out like I haven’t been able to since I woke up.
That’s all of them then.
“How?” I ask.
“When we were forced to make our emergency landing, the armed offender squad was immediately called in and they arrived shortly after, setting up a perimeter to the north of us and blocking the roads. Mr Zoyl must have been expecting this because he had already begun making his way on foot through dense bush towards Riverton. It was there that he encountered Mr Tui Rangi, and in the shoot-out that followed, Mr Rangi fatally wounded Sean Zoyl. He died at the scene.”
“And Tui, is he okay?” I ask.
“Mr Rangi was also shot during the confrontation, but I’m happy to report that he is in stable condition and recuperating well. The wound was superficial. He is here in this very hospital also,” John adds.
“Bit of a local hero now, too, just like you, bro,” Tai adds.
“Is he awake?” I ask.
“He’s back in surgery now, Finn, but it’s not serious. He was only shot in the leg. They said he’ll be awake again by tonight. We can go and see him and Pruitt both later, when you’re stronger,” Patricia answers.
It doesn’t feel good or bad, it finally feels right.
The Zoyls are over.
It’s done.
Almost.
“You guys have been here the whole time, these past two days?” I ask, looking at Tai and Patricia.
“We’ve been taking it in shifts, but yes. Don’t worry, that chair is more comfortable than it looks,” Patricia smiles.
“We knew you were going to wake up at some point, bro. Becks and the kids and Betty, they’ve all been by. That reminds me, I owe you some chocolates and biscuits. They don’t feed visitors here,” Tai adds with a grin.
“And the bones?” I ask.
“The remains have been sent away for testing, but we can confirm that they are that of a male, Caucasian, and the early estimates of relative size, age, and time of death fit with that of James Cotter, who was reported missing in 1989. The coroner’s initial results of the dental record comparison should be available later today,” Lucas answers.
“You have missed a busy two days, Mr Bell,” Lucas then says. “We have several forensic teams pouring over the Zoyl farm. And the science has come a long way since 1989. Already some of the findings are . . . troubling. The media is camped out on the road, and the whole town is rife with speculation. It is almost like they sense that there is more to the story than solving one old murder. And aside from the bones you discovered, there’s evidence of more out there at that farm, much more. But something tells me that you already know that.”
Then John says, “Now you have asked, and we have told you everything we know. And these things we are only piecing together from what we have found after the fact. It is time now that you tell us what you know, and how.”
I feel a slight heaviness return to my chest and I wish we were already beyond this conversation but it has to be done.
People have to know the truth before they can put it behind them.
And even though they’re all prepared to hear something bad, it’s actually going to be worse.
“I didn’t figure things out until two days ago. I had all the pieces, I just didn’t know it,” I say.
“And then it all just started fitting together. It snowballed so fast into something bigger and bigger, and I made a bunch of wrong decisions,” I say, shaking my head. “I think some of it actually only came to me these last hours while I was lying here unconscious.”
Okay, here goes.
“After what happened to Alice the previous year, the Zoyls knew that if anything else bad ever happened out there, they would be the first likely suspects. I don’t think they planned to kill James. I think maybe James went out there as he had done before, but this time he saw something, something bad, and they had to kill him, to stop word getting out. It wasn’t planned. They didn’t know when or where James was going to show up. So when it was done, they knew they would only have a little time before the police came searching. They had to get rid of the body and fast,” I say, then pause, thinking how to say the rest of it.
“So they fed him whole to the pigs. Not many people know this, but pigs, like us, are omnivores. They will eat almost anything. And when you starve a herd of pigs long enough and you keep them penned up, they will often become cannibalistic, dangerous. It happens in Africa sometimes. There would be a drought or civil war or famine. And the pigs would slowly starve until they start turning on each other. I saw it happen once. A herd will turn
on one weaker member and just suddenly tear it apart in a frenzy. Hundreds of mouths, gnawing it down till only the bones are left. Meat, skin, organs, everything. It literally takes only seconds. The only thing left is bones,” I say.
“And this was a problem for the Zoyls. They couldn’t risk burying or burning them, or throwing them in the sea, even weighted down. They knew how extensive the search for Alice had been the year before. They couldn’t take the chance of someone finding James’s bones. They would still be too wet to grind down to powder or gristle, and that would just end up leaving more evidence. And dissolving them in acid, something like lye, would take too long. So without time for better alternatives, they decided to finally give Albie what he had always wanted,” I finish.
“See, Albie had, just like everywhere else, been to the Zoyls following his passion for history. He’d offered to buy things off them several times already. And the Zoyls had been out there on that farm for a long time. Tai, both you and Albie told me there had been Zoyls out there since before Riverton started. That’s hundreds of years. Albie really wanted those things, especially the ones to do with the start of Riverton, to do with whaling,” I say.
“The try pots,” Tai answers. “I remember back when I was a kid, he wanted their try pots.”
“Yeah. Albie told me the Zoyls used to be known out here for making try pots,” I say, then go on to explain when I see the blank stares from Patricia and the twins, “Try pots are large, cast iron pots whalers used to boil whale blubber up to make whale oil. They are massive. Each easily big enough to hold a man or more.
“He told me the Zoyls made the best try pots, well-made, clever things. Albie actually showed me an old picture of two of them. It was only two days ago that I realised that that picture, along with that entire album, was missing. There was just so much stuff to go through that I didn’t notice that was the one thing that was now missing. And the Zoyls had to have taken it. Because it clearly showed what their try pots used to look like. And if you had seen that picture, and then inspected one up close, you’d spot the difference. If you knew what you were looking for.
“And those try pots really are cleverly made. One of the things they do is stack. Like Tupperware or paper cups, neatly fitting into each other,” I say, thinking of helping Mihi build her tiny tower.
“So the Zoyls took James’s bones and put them in the bottom of a try pot, and stacked another one on top, then welded the two together. It would have only taken minutes.
“They went from killing a person to nothing left but welded shut, hidden bones, probably in minutes. And it worked, too. It’s all there in the police files. They came searching everywhere, but didn’t see. The dogs would have indicated on a scent near the pig herd but that would have been put down to their overwhelming stench, and there would have been nothing left there in any case but trampled-down mud, urine, and pig faeces. And you could look inside the try pot. It would just look empty.”
“The police file noted an official caution for mistreatment of animals. Because the pigs were held in an overcrowded pen, starving. It was the only thing we found at that farm,” Lucas answers, shaking his head.
“I know, I saw that in the notes too,” I agree. “The rest is also in the notes. Because all the comings and goings on that farm were scrutinized in the days after, while the police were still searching. Albie came out that very next day. They must have called him right after the deed was done. The police even noted down his name and searched through what he took away.”
“They killed him, didn’t they,” Tai says, looking down.
“I’m sorry, Tai, Patricia,” I reply, looking at them.
“They had to. But the Zoyls were careful and patient. They had to wait for the police to leave first, then they probably planned to just head out to Albie’s and steal the try pot back and finally get rid of the bones. All they had to do was wait for things to die down a bit. Given enough time passing, it would just look like an odd case of theft from a strange man living out in the bush, unrelated to them or what had happened to James or Alice.
“But then things went wrong for the Zoyls. Albie lent some of his collection to the Te Papa Museum on a 25-year term, and that included that try pot. And now it was a problem. How do you steal something out of the country’s biggest, busiest museum without being spotted? And if you did succeed, you can bet there’d be much more attention and questions. So all they could do was wait. I think the plan was to steal it once it came back. And the try pot was reasonably safe on display in the museum. Nobody was going to try and use it or cut it open.
“Things got complicated when I moved in and started poking around and asking questions. And getting everybody interested and focussed on Alice and James again. Me and Pruitt asking questions. And then I went out to see Albie. Maybe they got tired of waiting, or paranoid that this was happening so close to the try pot’s return. Or maybe they just thought better to be thorough. But they went to Albie’s house and made him write that letter deeding ownership back to them, and then they killed him and made it look like he had hung himself,” I say, gently squeezing Patricia’s hand.
“No, it’s actually better this way,” she says. “At least he didn’t kill himself.”
“You done it good, bro, you done right by Uncle Albie,” Tai adds, nodding and looking out the window.
“Even though we couldn’t tell, I think they searched everything at Albie’s house. To make sure he didn’t have any notes or pictures about Zoyl try pots. That’s why they took that album with the old picture of the try pots. To make sure nobody would be able to figure out that the one in Te Papa looked just a little different than it should.
“I think that’s what they were looking for in my house, too. They were trying to see if I had taken anything from Albie’s about the try pots. Trying to see if I could be a risk to them.
“The rest is fairly simple. That morning I arrived to find Pruitt and the delivery man from Te Papa Museum arguing about the last consignment from the museum at Albie’s house. We quickly learned that one of the last things Albie did before he died was write that letter to the museum. And Pruitt and I both had just spent days on end poring over the case again in the hospital, so we were both immediately suspicious that this shipment was now due to be delivered to Zoyl farm. And we both still had all those police notes fresh in our memories with all the details about what happened during the police search.
“I think Pruitt figured it out first, but in a different way than me. See, he told me he was actually there that morning after James disappeared. He probably saw the truck with the try pot on it leave. And then when he saw it again that morning, and guessing that the Zoyls had killed Albie just to get it back, he knew. I think that’s part of the strain that gave him the heart attack.
“I figured it out because I remembered that photograph Albie showed me, and realised that it had been missing since that day. And then checking the dates from years ago, and now it all fit, and I knew what they had done. But then Pruitt collapsed and everything went a bit chaotic, and when it was over I saw that the delivery man had already taken the last consignment out to the Zoyl farm. So I went there. I had seen the Zoyls leave on their boat that morning and thought the farm would be empty. I found the try pot, and could see where the two stacked pots had been welded. I managed to break it open and find the bones. I was on my way to calling the police when Darrell found me. And the rest you’ve probably figured out,” I say, looking around.
“Darrell tried to kill me and I shot him.” I don’t feel bad about it, at all, I think.
“The rest was just me trying to survive and get away and tell somebody what happened. Tui has probably filled you in on the rest.” Everyone nods.
“I’m suddenly feeling so tired now, but I’ve slept for days. You two look like you need some sleep too,” I say, looking around through bleary eyes at Tai and Patricia.
“Seriously, everything is going to be fine now. You should go get some rest,” I suggest. �
��I know I’ve got to give John and Lucas here a full statement. You guys don’t need to be here for that.”
And at that, both Patricia and Tai reluctantly take their leave.
When Patricia leans over and kisses me, I feel another wave of relief wash over me. Because now I know she’s forgiven me. That I’m a fool of a man, and not a good one, but still, at least for now, I’ve been given another chance.
It’s when I’m sure both of them are gone that I turn back to John and Lucas and say tiredly, “We should talk about the rest now.”
“How much do you know, Mr Bell?” John asks.
“Pieces, just pieces. Some things I know. Some things I’ve guessed. Before I get started, I need you to get a hold of Brumhilda and get her out here. Her number is on my phone, which I assume you’ve found by now.”
“Yes, we have, but why her?” Lucas asks, taking out his phone.
“Because my guess is she actually knows more about this than any of us,” I say.
After Lucas finishes his call, he turns back to me and says, “You already know most of it, don’t you?”
“I think so. And you were right when you said earlier that it’s been a busy two days out at the Zoyl farm. Things are different out there this time, aren’t they?” I ask in return.
“Yes, now that we know what to look for, it’s become much easier to find. The evidence is already piling up. It may sound hard to believe, but it is actually easy to miss evidence of one crime when you are intently looking for evidence of another. Truthfully, I have to admit that we probably would have made the same mistakes as Father Ress did back then. We have the luxury of hindsight that he did not, and the science is so much more advanced now. We can ask questions he never could,” Lucas answers.
“We’ve already started pulling DNA samples. It’s a slow process. It will take months. But the Interpol database is a good start, and we know what to look for now,” John adds.
“But how did you know?” Lucas presses.
“I didn’t know all at once. It came in stops and starts. I had started putting things together before, but really most of it just kind of came back with me when I woke up here,” I answer.
