The Beasts of Upton Puddle

by Simon West-Bulford

  Flarp suddenly became agitated and darted toward Joe, then back to the door.

  “The guards?”

  Joe felt sick. He stood, threw everything inside, and pushed the safe door shut. He stuffed the letter into his pocket. Quickly replacing the portrait, he followed Flarp out of the office and along the corridor. But this time, instead of heading for the lift, Flarp made for the stairs.

  The guards were probably on their way up. Did they know intruders were in the building? Had Joe and Flarp tripped a secret alarm? Adrenaline pumped as Joe ran behind Flarp. Soon they would be outside and heading for Merrynether Mansion—safe.

  No! Not safe—not anymore. What could be done about Heinrich? Should he be confronted? What if Heinrich was responsible for Mrs. Merrynether’s disappearance? Should he hold back for now and talk to Danariel? The questions tumbled through Joe’s mind as fast as he was running down the steps. Anger rose with every breath as he reached the ground floor, and Joe made a vow that as soon as they got back, he would get some answers. He’d start with Danariel.

  Flarp continued to fly down the stairs beyond ground level.

  “Flarp! We’re right near reception. That’s the way out. Where are you going? Where are the guards?”

  But the eyeball continued down the stairwell, occasionally turning to see if Joe was following. With little choice but to do the same, he continued, biting down his frustration and anger with every step.

  On they went through a labyrinth of corridors, labs, offices, and lounges until Flarp finally came to a halt, pressed against a set of white doors. A label above them read Animal Section: No Admittance. A card reader was embedded in the wall.

  Flarp pressed himself so hard against the doors that Joe thought he might burst.

  “What is it, Flarp? Is it Mrs. Merrynether? Can you see her? Is she behind these doors? We can’t get inside. I think we need a pass or something.”

  Flarp plopped away, stared at Joe, and then retreated again as if changing his mind.

  Confused, tired, and fed up, Joe decided not to ask again but simply followed his guide back into the corridor. It was plain that Flarp wanted him to see or do something, but whether Mrs. Merrynether was in there or not, Joe had no clue. And why would she be put in an animal section?

  Joe stopped beside a workstation with a PC that had been left on. “I wonder,” he said and started to look around the desk. “If this person’s sloppy enough to leave their PC on, maybe they left an ID badge behind.”

  A few more seconds of searching and Joe realized he wasn’t going to be that lucky.

  “Perhaps I can get something from this instead,” he said, sitting in front of the computer. Two minutes more and Joe had found an e-mail account and printed off some details.

  “This’ll do. I’ve got a list of names showing a few people who work here. It’s a start anyway. Now let’s get out of here, Flarp. I have to talk to Danariel—fast.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  It was past midnight by the time Joe, Danariel, and Flarp returned to Merrynether Mansion to discover that Heinrich and Cornelius had not returned. Joe had never been inside the mansion at night and, although it wasn’t creepy, the whole place had a very different atmosphere than it did during the day. Even the vault seemed to have changed. Joe felt strangely detached when he set eyes on Heinrich’s things laid out on the desk, as if he were looking at the belongings of a stranger. More than that—an impostor.

  Flarp returned to his previous position: throwing himself against the wall of the vault. A patch of green slime covered one spot, looking as though it had stained the brickwork. Joe flopped to the floor and looked thoughtfully at Cornelius’s empty enclosure. Was the manticore safe with Heinrich?

  Danariel hovered in front of Joe’s face. “You were very quiet on the way back, Joe, and I can feel that something is very wrong. Are you all right?”

  “No, not really.” He frowned and glanced at Heinrich’s desk. “How well do you know Heinrich?”

  “I have known Heinrich for a very long time. At least fifty years.”

  “Fifty years? You knew him before you came here?”

  “Oh, yes. In fact—”

  Bicycle horns, bells, and bottles clashed in a rigorous Irish jig.

  Joe clapped his hands to his ears, and Danariel shot into her lightbulb for cover. Only Flarp, who had no ears, seemed unimpressed by the racket and continued to bounce off the wall. Much to Joe’s relief, the tune was over quickly. It was only then, as he looked closer at the wall just past Heinrich’s desk, that he saw Lilly’s latest masterpiece. A row of air horns squeezed between two long planks of wood, stripped from an enclosure, had been screwed into the brickwork. Underneath the horns, a shelf had been lined up with a long row of bottles, each holding different amounts of water. A pulley system with a tiny hammer designed to tap tunes out on the bottles hung next to them, now swinging from side to side, its job done.

  And underneath all that, with a length of string tied loosely around his hairy head, leading to Lilly’s insane musical instrument, was the exasperated Kiyoshi. To make matters worse, the cluricaun had fastened across the kappa’s wide mouth a strip of duct tape with the words SHUT UP marked over it.

  Joe smiled and shook his head. All his troubles were momentarily forgotten as he marveled at the mischief-maker’s ingenuity. If the kappa were to fall asleep, his head would slump forward and yank the string, which in turn would trigger a musical nightmare before the creature lost any of the precious fluid from the hole in his head. Looking humiliated but nonetheless safe, Kiyoshi watched Joe as he approached.

  “I’m so sorry we had to leave you in Lilly’s hands,” Joe said, trying hard not to laugh. He picked a corner of the tape and tried to peel it away without pulling the victim’s hair out. No use. It was either quick and sharp or slow and agonizing, and Joe made his choice. A large clump of brown hair came away as Joe ripped off the tape. Kiyoshi howled, and Joe could have sworn he heard an Irishman chuckling as he rolled the tape in his hands and threw it to the floor.

  “Are you all right?” Joe asked.

  Danariel squeezed herself out of the lightbulb and returned to his side.

  “All right?” the thing shrieked. “All right? In which crepuscular region of your picayune brain could you imagine that anything about my present condition is acceptable? That supercilious pygmy waited until I was in a state of slumber and then violated me. It is my informed opinion that such a recalcitrant creature should, indeed must, be incarcerated with others of his kind.”

  “I—”

  “Do not interrupt. Did your mother not teach you elementary etiquette? As I was saying—”

  “My mum!” Joe understood only part of what Kiyoshi said, but the mother word hit him like a rocket between the eyes. “She’ll be going crazy wondering where I am.”

  Joe rushed to the phone, leaving the infuriated kappa to continue his squeaky rant. He dialed the number as fast as he could and waited for it to ring, frantically trying to think of an explanation that would satisfy. The busy tone gave Joe time to think. He replaced the receiver, lifted it again, thinking hard for an excuse, and then realized there was no dial tone.

  A recorded voice said, “You have three messages. Press the star key to hear your messages.”

  “There are messages,” Joe looked at Danariel. “Do you think I should listen to them? We don’t know where Mrs. Merrynether or Heinrich are, and these could be important.”

  Danariel opened her arms and offered a single nod. Joe pressed the star key.

  “Your first message was received at 4:33 p.m.”

  “Ah, hello, Mrs. Merrynether? I’m sorry to disturb you on a Saturday, but that swelling has reappeared on my . . . Oh, sorry. It’s Betty here—Mrs. Bobbit? Yes. The, um, swelling. It’s reappeared on my budgie’s . . . Well, it’s reappeared on my budgie again, and I’m rather worried. Would you mind awfully ringing back? Thank you. My number is . . . erm . . . er . . . 81887542. Thank you so much. Bye . . . Bye . . .
I hate these answer mach—”

  “Your second message was received at 7:10 p.m.”

  “Oh, good evening, Mrs. Merrynether. My name is Rose Ashworth. We met recently when I came to pick up Joe? Actually, that’s what I’m calling about. He told his mother he’d be back in time for his tea, but he hasn’t come back home yet and . . . well, with all the talk about the Beast of Upton Puddle, I’m a bit worried. I was just wondering if he’s with you. Please could you call me back as soon as possible to let me know? Thank you. I’m at 07199 656543.”

  “Your third message was received at 8:51 p.m.”

  “This is a message for Mr. Krieger. Container 1191248 has arrived at Hagworth central warehouse and is still awaiting pickup. Please contact us at 814233 as soon as possible, as the night shift staff is not prepared to take responsibility for zoological cargo beyond its allotted time slot. Thank you.”

  Joe replaced the receiver and puffed air through his cheeks. “Where do I start?”

  “It sounds like arrangements were made to pick up another patient,” Danariel said.

  “That’s what I thought, but how are we going to get it here? We can’t leave it at the warehouse. And what am I going to do about Mum and Aunt Rose? They’ll take turns at braining me when I get home.”

  “Indeed.” Kiyoshi chimed in. “And who is going to prevent Betty Bobbit’s budgie’s bum boil bursting, hmm? Three tasks, and one child who is woefully maladroit.”

  Joe ignored him. “I’d better call that warehouse, then try Mum again.”

  He dialed the number and was put through to the same man who left the message. Five minutes later, after a difficult conversation made worse by Kiyoshi’s continued verbal assault in the background, Joe agreed to wait for the staff to courier the cargo to Merrynether Mansion at considerable expense.

  “Okay, that’s sorted. They said the container will be here in about three hours, but I’ve just made the situation worse for myself. How am I going to tell my mum I’m not coming home yet?”

  Joe found his way to Heinrich’s chair and flopped into it to think.

  Bottles tinkled as Kiyoshi freed himself from Lilly’s contraption and padded toward Joe. “Ah, the disconsolate cry of the little boy lost.”

  “And there’s Veronica too. We still need to help her,” said Danariel, also ignoring Kiyoshi’s taunts.

  “Yes.” Joe, feeling dejected, pulled out the list he’d printed from the computer at Redwar Industries. “I suppose I could start looking through this person’s contact list. You never know who . . . Oh!”

  Joe’s focus had come to rest on a name he wished he didn’t recognize. He continued to look through the list, hoping to see someone else, anyone else, but that was the only one.

  “What is it?” the seraph asked. “Do you know someone there?”

  “Yes. Scott Duggan—head of security. That’s Kurt Duggan’s dad. Kurt goes to my school and beats up just about everyone. He doesn’t like me very much.”

  “He’s not likely to help, then.”

  “No, but he’s the only one I know on this list.”

  Flarp’s steady thumping against the wall didn’t help Joe think, and the kappa’s continued interruptions made matters even worse.

  “Gastronomical desires may not be a significant priority for you at this juncture, but I require sustenance.”

  “You’ll have to wait, Kiyoshi,” Danariel said.

  “What do you eat?” asked Joe absently.

  “Children.”

  Joe raised an eyebrow at what he hoped was a joke. “. . . or Cucumis sativus,” Kiyoshi said. “Cucumber to you.”

  “How about this, Kiyoshi? You think of a way to get Scott Duggan’s security pass, and I’ll find you some cucumber.”

  The phone rang, and Joe was almost grateful not to hear Kiyoshi’s convoluted reply. He picked up the receiver, realizing at once that it could be his mother or his aunt. He froze.

  The caller broke the silence. “Hello? Mrs. Merrynether?” It was his mother.

  Panic-stricken and simultaneously irritated by the haughty expression on Kiyoshi’s bizarre monkey face, Joe thrust the receiver at the kappa.

  The thing’s eyes widened as it stared at the mouthpiece. Fortunately, Kiyoshi was not shy of talking. “Greetings, spawner of maladjusted offspring.”

  Joe could still hear his mother through the earpiece pointed at the creature.

  “Mrs. . . . Merrynether? Is that you? Can I speak to Mrs. Merrynether please?”

  “I am afraid Mrs. Merrynether is away on important business, Mrs. Copper. I am her secretary—Mr. Kiyoshi.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour, but—”

  “You wish to know if your son is currently located within our abode?”

  “Yes. Is he? I’m not angry with him—just worried. Is he there?”

  Kiyoshi’s thin pink lips stretched into a smug smile. Joe wanted to crack him with the phone.

  “No,” said Kiyoshi, “but he did visit us this morning to procure some belongings he had left behind. He mentioned to us then that he would be staying with a school friend this weekend. I believe the young man’s name is Kurt Duggan.”

  “Oh . . . Oh, I see. Well, thank you, Mr. Kiyoshi.

  You’ve put my mind at rest. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, Mrs. Copper.”

  The phone went dead.

  Openmouthed, Joe replaced the receiver. “What have you done?”

  “High-order cognitive processing.”

  “What?”

  Kiyoshi rolled his eyes. “An act of double avicide by geological means.”

  “What?”

  “I think he said he killed two birds with one stone,” said Danariel, raising her hands.

  “He thinks that phone call solved two of my problems? How does that work?”

  “The solution is—” Kiyoshi’s head fell forward.

  “He’s gone again,” whispered Joe, lifting Kiyoshi’s head as gently as possible. It was surprisingly heavy. “Perhaps I can keep him this way for a while.” The kappa’s eyes stayed shut. “Okay, so how did he help?”

  “Well, I’m not sure,” said Danariel, “but perhaps Kiyoshi was going to suggest you really do stay at Kurt’s place?”

  “What? How? He hates me.”

  “There must be—”

  “Wait a minute. He has the key.”

  “Key?”

  “Yes. It’s a long story, but Lilly gave me the key to the cellar trapdoor thinking I would get him some drink. Kurt Duggan got it off me, and I told him it was a key to my savings box hidden in the forest. I think Heinrich must have found out the key was missing and had the padlock replaced, but the point is, Kurt Duggan still has the old key. He’s been hassling me since last Monday to give him a map to my savings box.”

  “I see. I think I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Right. I’ll go see Kurt tomorrow and tell him if he wants the map he has to cover for me and make sure I’m invited for tea tomorrow night.”

  “Do you think it will work?”

  Joe tried not to think about the risks. “It has to. I don’t know what else to try.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  Joe woke with a jump. The sound of a buzzer echoed around the walls of the vault, and a burning sensation crept over his fingers. It took a few startled seconds for Joe to realize that after falling asleep cradling Kiyoshi’s head in his hands, he’d jogged some of the cloudy yellow goo out of Kiyoshi’s cranial vent and onto his skin when the alarm sounded.

  “Aah!” Joe leapt to his feet, wrung his hands, wiped his hands on his trousers, and before he’d even considered what he was doing, he’d plopped his fingers into his mouth to suck away the burning pain.

  Kiyoshi, having also woke with a start, looked up at Joe with a disdainful frown.

  “Wok is gak htuff in your heg?” Joe asked, sticking his tongue out. “Ik’s burnged ngy ngouf.”

  “Are you educated in adenology, chemistry, o
r herpetology? If not, I fail to perceive any value in providing you with an answer.”

  Danariel fluttered down from the skylight. “Joe, the delivery has arrived.”

  Joe swallowed. The burning in his mouth had settled into a peculiar tingling sensation. “Is that what the buzzer was about?”

  “Yes, it’s an alarm that lets Heinrich or Veronica know when someone knocks on the door.”

  “I’d better go up there, then. Can you keep an eye on Kiyoshi for a minute?”

  Joe felt a lightness in his body as he made cautious steps toward the door. His mouth was dry, and he felt a curious sensation, like floating upside down in a vat of jelly with earmuffs on. What was in that head soup of Kiyoshi’s? Had he poisoned himself? For a moment Joe thought he would pass out, but the world around him remained clear. He hardly noticed the door as he pulled it open. It seemed completely weightless. Running up the stairs, through the pantry, and along the hallway required no effort at all.

  He opened the main door and was confronted by a tall man with a clipboard. The man looked so tired that the flat cap on his head seemed to weigh him down.

  “Delivery. Sign and date here please.” He pointed a nicotine-stained finger at an empty box on a piece of yellow paper, then handed Joe a pen.

  “Can I see it first?” Joe asked.

  “Sure.” The man shuffled to the back of his van. “Not much to see, though.” He unlocked a padlock and swung the double doors open to reveal a large wooden crate covered in various warning labels and punctured with tiny air holes.

  “What’s inside?”

  “How should I know? We never know. It’s all very hush-hush.” He tapped the side of his nose.

  “What d’you mean, hush-hush? It’s not illegal, is it?”

  “Nah, I didn’t mean like that. It’s just a bit . . . weird. Merrynether’s crates always get picked up from the middle of a field somewhere up-country. Nobody ever sees who drops them there, but we get instructions to pick them up ready for collection. Then some shifty-lookin’ bloke with a hood, Mr. Kreiger I think his name is, comes to pick them up from the warehouse a few hours later and brings them back ’ere . . . Anyway, can’t stand around chattin’. Delivery code’s there,” he said, pointing. “Got a fork truck or someone to ’elp?”