Robert Thorogood - Death Knocks Twice

‘I see,’ Richard said, none the wiser. ‘Sorry, why do you call them cherries?’

‘Because the fruit of the coffee plant is red like a cherry. Don’t you know how coffee is made?’ Lucy asked, surprised.

‘Well, I know it comes in jars,’ Richard said before realising that this was probably the wrong thing to say.

‘It’s a bit more complicated than that.’

‘I’m sure it is,’ Camille said, trying to get the interview back on track. ‘But you were telling us that you felt you were being watched when you were down by these farm buildings?’

‘That’s right. And a couple of days ago I thought I’d got proof. I was just getting into my car when I had the feeling again – that someone was spying on me – and when I spun round, I caught this quick flash as whoever it was ducked behind that wall over there.’ Here, Lucy pointed at a stone wall that separated two buildings. ‘I was shocked, I can tell you. But I made myself go over and look behind the wall. If I’m honest, I was really scared. But what I saw was kind of the worst thing possible.’

‘Why?’ Camille asked. ‘What did you see?’

‘Whoever it was had gone. They’d just vanished into thin air. It was really spooky. Because I was sure I’d seen someone, but they were no longer there. And after that moment, I started to doubt my own shadow. It even occurred to me that maybe I’d been seeing things. But then this morning, I finally saw him. The guy who’s been stalking me. Plain as day. Let me show you.’ Lucy led them off to a clump of vegetation that pressed up against the side of one of the old buildings. ‘I was just coming back from the fields when I looked over and saw a man standing to the side of this bush here.’

‘And it was definitely a man?’ Richard asked, eagerly pulling his notebook and pencil from his inside pocket.

‘Oh yes. This old guy with a beard and straggly grey hair down to his shoulders. He looked like a tramp if I’m honest.’

‘What time was this?’

‘I don’t know. Something like 10am. Or just after.’

‘What colour was his skin?’

‘I think white.’

‘Did you recognise him?’

‘No. But I only saw him for a split second. Because the moment he realised that I’d seen him, he ran back into the jungle just beyond the bush here. And then I did a pretty stupid thing. I chased after him. Look.’ Lucy went over and indicated a couple of thin branches on the edge of the jungle. They were snapped back, and Richard could see the white sap seeping from the exposed wood inside.

‘You followed him into the jungle?’

‘I did.’

Richard could see how anxious Lucy was.

‘And did you catch him?’

‘No. He had a head start on me, and the jungle’s pretty thick around here, so about ten steps in, I lost him altogether. That’s when I came back out here, got straight into my car and came down to the Police station to report the incident. Because, whoever he is, it’s got to stop.’

‘So,’ he said, ‘this man could be anywhere by now?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Well, let’s see about that,’ Camille said, and before Richard could stop her, his partner had pushed through the broken branches and started to wade into the thick jungle.

‘Camille, what are you doing?’ Richard asked, unable to keep the panic out of his voice.

‘Police work,’ she called back, at which point Richard saw her stop dead in her tracks. Oh God, he thought to himself, what if a giant spider had just jumped at Camille’s face? Fortunately for Richard, before he had to pretend that he was about to come to his partner’s aid, Camille headed off at a new bearing, and he realised that she’d only paused to check that she was on the right track before continuing on her way.

As the dense vegetation finally swallowed Camille, Lucy turned to Richard.

‘We’d better follow her,’ she said, before pushing into the jungle and soon disappearing herself.

Richard looked about himself in a panic. While he felt just about okay-ish letting one woman go into the jungle on her own – especially seeing as she was a trained Police Officer – he felt he couldn’t very well let two women vanish into the unknown while he stayed back here on the fringes, even though that was precisely where he wanted to stay. So, taking a deep breath to steady his internal shriek of terror, Richard stepped into the jungle.

Within seconds, he was lost. The vines and vegetation pressed into his face, the fetid smell of the jungle was revolting – it seemed to be a pungent mix of rotting fruit and decaying animals – which, when Richard thought about it, was very possibly because the jungle was full of rotting fruit and decaying animals. He felt whole rivers of sweat run down his back. Where had the women got to? Richard heard some branches snapping up ahead of him, and he made himself push through the sticky vegetation another ten or so paces until he saw the figures of Camille and Lucy through a thick screen of vines. Before he lost his nerve entirely, Richard covered the remaining distance like a mad marionette – his legs and arms lifting as high and wide as possible – until he burst through the wall of vines into a little clearing.

As Richard dashed the burrs, berries and sticky godknows-whats from his jacket and trouser legs, he could see Camille looking directly at him and smiling broadly. He gritted his teeth. As far as Richard was concerned, it wasn’t his fault he didn’t function well in a tropical jungle, was it? His last posting had been in Croydon, for heaven’s sake.

‘You okay, sir?’ Camille asked, pretending to be concerned.

‘Yes. I’m fine,’ he said.

‘Then I think you need to see this. I’ve found something.’

Richard went over and saw that Camille and Lucy had found an area of ground that was littered with empty water bottles, paper bags that had once contained fresh food, crushed cigarette packets and an empty bottle of cheap vodka.

‘Someone’s been here,’ Camille said, indicating the food.

Richard saw a column of bright red fire ants – each seemingly the size of his thumb – marching up to and engulfing a bag that had once contained a pastry of some sort, and he took a couple of steps back.

‘Although I don’t see any evidence of anyone sleeping out here,’ Camille said, looking about herself. ‘No tent’s been pitched. Or bivouac. Or rain cover of any sort.’

‘I see,’ Richard said, lifting his feet up one by one to check that an army of fire ants weren’t already marching up his legs. ‘So tell me, Ms Beaumont, is there anything else you noticed about the man you saw earlier today?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Lucy said. ‘I’ve told you everything I can remember. He was definitely a man. And he was definitely old. I didn’t really notice his clothes, but he had this beard – sort of whitish, sort of grey – and long-flowing grey hair. That’s all I saw. And I had no idea that he had any kind of camp in the jungle here.’

Richard looked about himself. It wasn’t much to go on, was it? An old tramp had been spying on Lucy from the jungle. And when Lucy had tried to confront him, he’d run away.

There was a sudden bang from nearby – followed by a flock of parrots squawking into the air above the jungle.

‘What was that?’ Lucy asked.

‘That sounded like a gunshot,’ Camille said to her boss.

‘What?’ Lucy said, panicking.

‘Quiet!’ Richard ordered, trying to work out where the sound had come from. Like Camille, he’d already guessed that the sharp retort had been from a gun of some kind. But where had it come from?

There was a second bang, and, without thinking, both Camille and Richard started running towards the noise – Richard this time pushing through the vines and vegetation without any thought for his personal safety – or that of his suit – and they soon burst out of the jungle and back into the blinding sunlight of the cobbled yard. There was no-one nearby. So where had the gunshot come from?