Moon

by Herbert, James

  A day for things not to go wrong.

  Milling parents, arriving vehicles jostling for space in the overcrowded car park and driveway, schoolgirls excited and pretending not to be, giggling though under threat to be on best behaviour. Childes had left the computer classroom when the mandatory parent/teacher discussion period was over. Now he watched the activity with restless attention. He tried not to let his close scrutiny of each passing face appear too obvious, but more than one parent was made to feel uncomfortable under his gaze.

  And after a while he, too, had the feeling of being studied. He turned quickly and found Miss Piprelly, only yards away and supposedly in conversation with a group of parents and staff, staring intently at him. Their eyes met and a curious recognition passed between them, a knowing that had never been present before. An anxiety shadowed the principal’s features and Childes watched as she said something to those around her, then broke away from them, striding in her stiff-backed manner towards him.

  She acknowledged greetings from other visitors she passed with a brief smile that was polite yet rebuffed conversation, and then she was before him, looking up into his face. He blinked, for he had seen the energy glowing from her, an aura of vitality that was of many subtle colours. The phenomenon was extraordinary and something he had witnessed more than once just recently, the radiance like a gentle many-hued flame that flared briefly to fade when concentrated upon, leaving him perplexed and slightly spellbound. The unusual effect vanished when Miss Piprelly spoke and his attention was diverted.

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t stand there inspecting everybody with quite such intensity, Mr Childes. Perhaps you could tell me if there is something wrong?’

  That uncanny awareness in her eyes. He was slowly beginning to view the school’s principal in a different light, catching glimpses of deeper sensitivities beneath the somewhat brittle exterior. Yet their relationship had not changed. He wondered if these fresh insights into the woman were due to the confusing developments within himself.

  ‘Mr Childes?’ She was waiting for an answer.

  The urge to tell her everything was almost overwhelming, but how could she believe him? Estelle Piprelly was a rational, no-nonsense headmistress, energetic and diligent in her pursuit of educational excellence. Yet what was it in her that puzzled him so, what elusive – or camouflaged – quality did she possess that belied her image?

  She sighed impatiently. ‘Mr Childes?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I was miles away.’

  ‘Yes, I could see that. If you’ll forgive me for saying so, you seem unwell. You’ve looked haggard for a while now, since your few days absence, in fact.’

  A minor illness, a summer cold, had been how he had accounted for his time spent on the mainland after Annabel’s disappearance. ‘Oh.’ He shrugged. ‘Well, summer term’s nearly over, so I’ll have plenty of time to rest up.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought your curriculum is exactly full, Mr Childes.’

  ‘Perhaps not.’

  ‘Is there something on your mind?’

  He faltered, but it was neither the time nor the place to be frank with her. She would have probably ordered him off the premises if he had, anyway.

  ‘No, I was, uh, interested in the parents, trying to associate them with their offspring. Just a little game I like to play. Have you ever noticed how like their mothers or fathers some of the girls are, while others are total opposites? Incredible, really.’

  She was not satisfied, but she was far too busy to indulge him. ‘No, I don’t find it incredible at all. Now I suggest you forget your “game” and mingle a little more with our guests.’ Miss Piprelly began to turn away, but paused. ‘You know, Mr Childes, if there is some kind of problem, my door is always open to you.’

  He avoided her stare, feeling uncomfortable, for there was more in her remark than a casual invitation. Just how much did she really know about him?

  ‘I’ll remember,’ he told her, then watched her walk away.

  Amy spotted Overoy endeavouring to resemble a visiting parent but succeeding only in looking like a plain-clothes policeman on the lookout for pickpockets, his intent look and alert stance the giveaway. She could not help smiling: maybe he only looked like that to her because she knew who he was and why he was there. She resisted the mischievous urge to wave and call out, ‘Inspector!’ Instead, she said to the two thirteen-year-old girls helping her on the strawberries-and-cream stall, ‘Take over for a while and make sure you give the correct change. And only four strawberries to a basket otherwise we’ll run out too fast and without even showing a profit.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Sebire,’ they replied in unison, delighted to be in charge.

  Amy made her way from behind the stall, exchanging hellos with any parent she recognized. Overoy was standing beneath a tree, sipping wine from a plastic cup, shirt-sleeves rolled to the elbows and jacket hanging over an arm.

  ‘You look hot, Inspector,’ Amy said when she drew near.

  He turned in her direction, surprised for a moment. ‘Hello, Miss Sebire. You seemed busy on your stall.’

  ‘Strawberries and cream are in great demand on a day like today. Would you like me to bring you some?’

  ‘That’s very kind, but no, thank you.’

  ‘They would add to your disguise.’

  He grinned at the mild leg-pulling. ‘I stick out that much, do I?’

  ‘Probably only because I know who you are and what you’re doing here. At least your numbers are discreet.’

  He gave a wry shake of his head. ‘Yes, I know. I’m sorry about that, but as it is, I’m on my own time. Difficult to convince my governors that an undercover team was needed for this little exercise – not that we have any jurisdiction on the island anyway. Fortunately Inspector Robillard is an old friend, so I’m here on a weekend social as his guest.’

  ‘I thought I’d seen him wandering around with his wife.’

  ‘Like me, he’s on unofficial duty, keeping an eye on things.’

  ‘Looking for our monster?’

  ‘Yeah, bit difficult when you don’t know what he looks like, though.’

  ‘“It”, you mean: Jon refuses to accept the killer as human.’

  ‘I’d noticed.’ Uncomfortable, Overoy scratched his cheek with a nicotine-stained finger, careful not to spill the wine. ‘Mr Childes is, er, a strange man in some ways, Miss Sebire,’ he said.

  Amy smiled sweetly. ‘Wouldn’t you be if you’d been through what he has, Inspector?’

  ‘No, I’d be worse: I’d be out of my brain by now.’

  A quick frown replaced the smile. ‘You can be sure he’s not.’

  He held up the plastic cup between them as if a shield.

  ‘I’m not suggesting anything, Miss Sebire. In fact, I find him a remarkably down-to-earth character, considering. I just mean this ESP business is a bit odd, that’s all.’

  ‘I thought you’d be used to it by now.’

  ‘He isn’t, nor am I.’

  ‘Jon is beginning to accept the ability.’

  ‘I accepted that in him a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean I’m used to it.’

  A passing group of parents waved to Amy and she called out a hello in return. She faced the policeman again. ‘Do you really think this person could have come here to the island?’

  Overoy sipped the wine before answering. ‘He knows Childes is here, so it’s possible. I’m afraid this business may have turned into a personal vendetta against Childes.’

  ‘But you really think he could read Jon’s mind in that way?’

  ‘To find his location, you mean? Oh, no, he didn’t need to. Childes’ daughter, Gabriel, took a funny phone call a day or two before her friend was abducted – she couldn’t remember exactly when – and we’re assuming it was from the kidnapper.’

  ‘Jon mentioned that to me.’

  ‘We didn’t find out for some time after, when we questioned Gabriel again and specifically asked if she or Annabel had spoken t
o any strangers in the days or weeks before Annabel was taken. She remembered the call then.’ His eyes ranged over the crowds, but he was recalling something unpleasant. ‘Gabriel couldn’t describe the voice, so she did an impression for us. It made my flesh creep just to listen.’ He finished off the wine and looked around for somewhere to dispose of the plastic cup. Amy took it from him.

  ‘Please go on,’ she said.

  ‘The voice was weird, a kind of low growling. Rough, but with no particular accent, nothing for us to latch on to. Of course, she’s just a kid and anyway the caller could have been deliberately assuming a different voice to normal, so even that doesn’t help us much. Unfortunately, when he asked to speak to her father, Gabriel said he didn’t live there any more, that he was here, on the island.’

  ‘Then when he went to the house . . .’

  ‘He specifically went there for Gabriel, or at least to do some mischief. We haven’t mentioned our notion to Annabel’s parents – it would be heartless and at this stage, there’d be no point – but we believe he mistook Annabel for Childes’ daughter. She’d told her mother that she was off to play with Gabriel, so we reckon she was in the Childes’ garden when she was abducted.’

  ‘You still haven’t found her body?’

  Overoy shook his head. ‘Not a trace,’ he said dismally. ‘But then the killer doesn’t need her body to be found: he’s already presented us with the moonstone, along with the little girl’s fingers.’

  Despite the heat of the day, Amy shuddered. ‘Why should he do such a thing?’

  ‘The moonstone? Or do you mean why the mutilations? Well, the desecration of the bodies has all the hallmarks of ritual, and the moonstone could play some part in that.’

  ‘Did Jon tell you about his dream?’

  ‘The moonstone changing into the moon? Yeah, he told me, but what does it mean? And why did the word “Moon” appear on the computer screens in his classroom? And was it really there?’

  Amy was startled. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘The mind is a funny thing, and Childes’, apparently, is a little different from most. What if he imagined he saw the word on the monitor screens?’

  ‘But the girls in his class saw it too.’

  ‘Pubescent girls at their most sensitive age, minds open to suggestion. I’m talking about a form of mass hypnosis or collective hallucinations. Such things aren’t rare, Miss Sebire.’

  ‘The circumstances weren’t like—’

  He held up a hand. ‘It’s merely a consideration we have to keep our own minds open to. I wouldn’t be here if I thought Childes was making the whole thing up, and I’m working on one particular theory that might throw some light, but I need to do more research.’

  ‘Couldn’t Moon be somebody’s name?’

  ‘First thing that occurred to me, so I checked whether the prostitute who was murdered had any associate or regular clients by that name. So far, nothing. I also did a run-through of the list of staff and inmates at the hospital, but drew a blank there, too. Something’s bound to turn up sooner or later, though – it’s the natural order of events in most criminal investigations.’

  ‘Is there any way in which I can help?’ Amy offered.

  ‘I wish there were – we need all the help we can get. Just keep an eye out for anyone acting suspiciously around Childes. And for that matter, around yourself. Remember, the killer tried to get at him through his daughter; next time it could be you.’

  ‘Do you . . . do you think this person is here today?’

  He sighed, still looking around. ‘Hard to say. After all, what do we have? A word on a computer screen? Doesn’t tell us much, does it? But if he is here, he’ll know where Childes lives – all he has to do is look in the phone book and find there’s only one Childes listed.’

  ‘But surely you’re keeping a watch on the cottage,’ said Amy, alarmed.

  ‘I’ve got no authority here, Miss Sebire.’

  ‘Inspector Robillard . . .’

  ‘What can he do? I’ve had a hard enough job getting my own people to listen, so what can Inspector Robillard, who thinks I’m slightly out of my head anyway, tell his superiors?’

  ‘But that leaves Jon so vulnerable.’

  ‘We may come up with something today. Childes has one of his feelings about the safety of the girls, that’s why I’m here and why I’ve persuaded Geoff Robillard to give me a hand. Not much of a task force, I admit, but under the circumstances, all you’re going to get. It had crossed our minds to let the principal in on our little secret, but what sane reason could we give for our presence? You know, I’m not at all sure of this myself, but I’d hate anything to happen here without at least taking a few precautions.’

  Amy had been quietly appraising Overoy while he spoke. ‘I think Jon has been fortunate to find an ally in you,’ she said. ‘It’s hard to imagine any other policeman taking him too seriously.’

  Overoy glanced away, embarrassed. ‘I owe him,’ he said. ‘Besides, he’s a definite link – why else would this lunatic send him a moonstone? Frankly, Miss Sebire, Jonathan Childes is all we’ve got to go on.’ He continued to search among the strolling people, looking for a certain indefinable something, a guarded look in someone’s eyes, an awkwardness of movement betraying an unnatural self-consciousness – any small nuance that would make an individual subtly conspicuous to the trained eye. So far, all appeared normal; but the day was still young.

  Amy was about to walk away when Overoy said, ‘Did he tell you about his daughter’s dream?’

  She stopped. ‘When Gabby saw Annabel after she’d been taken?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Yes, he did.’

  ‘It wasn’t just a dream, was it?’

  ‘Jon’s already told you.’

  ‘He was vague. He said that he and Mrs Childes heard Gabby call out in the middle of the night from another room along the hallway and when they got to her she was sitting up in bed, very upset and claiming to have dreamt about Annabel. Those were his words. I’d like to know if she really had been dreaming. It’s not important, Miss Sebire; I’m just curious. Does Gabby have the same gift as her father?’ He failed to notice that something he had said had shaken Amy.

  ‘Jon doesn’t believe it was a dream,’ she replied, distractedly. ‘He may have told you that to protect her—’

  ‘From me?’

  ‘You let matters get out of control last time; he wouldn’t want Gabby to go through what he had to. I’m surprised he even mentioned it to you.’

  ‘He didn’t. Mrs Childes told me and later he explained it as a sort of nightmare.’

  ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have said otherwise.’

  This time he was aware that her initial cheerfulness had been dampened and, mistakenly, he assumed she regretted her disclosure. ‘Like I said, it’s not important, so let’s leave the matter there. I’m sorry he still doesn’t have confidence in me, though. I’d hate to think Childes would keep anything important from me.’

  ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t, Inspector. Jon is a very frightened man at the moment.’

  ‘To be honest, he’s not the only one: I’ve seen the forensic photographs of what this maniac can do.’

  ‘I don’t think I want to know any more than I do already.’ Amy looked over at the strawberries-and-cream stall. ‘I’ll have to get back and help the girls; they’re being swamped with customers.’

  ‘You’ll see me and Inspector Robillard wandering around throughout the afternoon, so let either one of us know if anything suspicious catches your eye. I don’t think any-thing’s going to happen with all these people around, but you never know. Oh, and Miss Sebire,’ he added as she turned away, ‘if you do casually bump into me again, try not to call me Inspector.’ He smiled, but her mind was obviously now on other things, for she did not respond in kind.

  ‘I’ll remember,’ was all she said, and then she disappeared into the throng milling around the stall.

  He checked his wristw
atch: soon it would be time for the gymnastics and dancing to begin.

  Childes kept careful watch as visitors and staff began drifting towards the main lawn at the rear of the school. He continued to feel uneasy, even though nothing had occurred as yet to give him cause for concern. He had come across nobody who appeared in the least bit out of place, no one who made his spine stiffen or the skin on the back of his neck crawl, a reaction he instinctively knew he would have once he set eyes on the person – creature – he sought. The creature who sought him. Could he have been wrong? Was the idea that it was on the island a misguided assumption? He did not think so, for the feeling was too strong, too intense.

  Childes followed the visitors, spotting the island policeman, Robillard, among them; Overoy would not be too far away.

  Lively chattering around him, smiling faces, movement of bright colours and the buzz of activity – all conspirators to the air of normality. Why did he doubt so? There had been no warnings, no sensing of overt danger; only a trembling within, a creeping unease, a certain tenseness. No recognition, but a heavy, shadowy awareness without definition, without clarity. He felt eyes upon him and was suddenly afraid to turn. He forced himself to.

  Paul Sebire stood three yards away, supposedly in conversation with Victor Platnauer, but his gaze boring into Childes. The financier abruptly excused himself and strode towards him.

  ‘I don’t intend to create a scene here, Childes, but I think it’s about time you and I had a serious talk,’ Sebire said gruffly when he reached the teacher.

  For a moment, Childes forgot his main concern. ‘I’m ready to discuss Amy at any time,’ he replied with a calmness he scarcely felt.