Spark, page 6
“You know the hidden cave in between the boulders?” Tara said. “We put up a stone-coloured two-man tent inside it.”
“It’s really cool.” Ozuru nodded.
“You can’t see that it’s there unless you are looking at the entrance,” Terry said.
“And we’re going to camouflage it properly tomorrow,” Ozuru added. “My dad’s giving us a roll of his special camo netting.”
“We don’t want to lose our spot to the visiting birders,” Twitch said. “This is our patch.”
“D’you think many people will try to see the vulture?” Jack asked.
“There’ve only been one or two sightings of a bearded vulture in this country in the last sixty years. It’s a big deal.” Twitch nodded. “This may be my only opportunity ever to see this bird. And it’s a magnificent one. It’s one of the largest birds of prey in the world, with a wingspan of up to three metres. Look.” He spun his book around, showing Jack. “You see these orange-red feathers on the vulture’s chest?” Twitch pointed at a glossy picture of a quirky-looking bird. “They’re actually a dirty white, but the lammergeier bathes in oxidized earth and grooms itself to dye its feathers red. Isn’t that awesome?”
“They are revered in Iran, where my family is from,” Tara said. “Because they fly impossibly high, it is said they never land, and that they are the companions of kings.”
“Is that the beard?” Jack pointed at a straggly black goatee sticking out from under the bird’s beak. “It’s not very big. When you said the vulture had a beard, I was thinking more like Father Christmas.”
“That wouldn’t be very practical.” Twitch laughed.
“And you say it eats bones?”
“Yeah. Lammergeiers have a bad reputation because people mistakenly thought they killed the animals they ate. Actually, they only eat the marrow inside the bones. They find the carcasses of dead animals, pick them up and fly super high, then drop the bodies onto rocks, shattering the bones to get to the food inside.”
“OK, that is pretty cool,” Jack admitted. “How do you say its name again? Lamb-er-what?”
“Lamb – er – guy – er,” Twitch sounded it out slowly. “I hope we get to see it together.” His blue eyes were shining. “It’ll be our first ever lifer.”
“You said that before.” Jack paused, then asked falteringly, “What exactly is a lifer?”
“It’s what you call a bird that you don’t have on your spotted list, but that you dream of adding. Some twitchers travel around the world collecting lifers, but this week a lifer is coming to Briddvale and we have to see it.”
Jack thought of the short list of birds he’d spotted. He hadn’t added anything to it for weeks. He had to admit, it would be pretty cool to add a bearded vulture to it. Twitch’s excitement was infectious.
Looking down at the map, he noticed Mord Hall. “What if the vulture goes there? It’s private land, isn’t it?”
“Hopefully it won’t. The Mord Estate is heathland, mostly – heather fields for the grouse – although it does stretch up to this side of Passerine Pike.” Twitch bit the side of his lip. “We would see it from the skywatch hide, but we wouldn’t be able to get close.”
“Have you ever been to Mord Hall?”
“I hate that place.” Twitch shook his head. “It’s a death trap for hen harriers, and they’re one of my favourite birds.”
“A death trap?” Jack was suddenly attentive.
“Hen harriers hunt grouse. The Mord Estate heathlands are full of grouse bred for humans to hunt. The humans see the hen harriers as pests, stealing their grouse, but birds don’t understand this.” His nostrils flared with sudden anger. “Even though they’re a protected bird, and it’s illegal to kill them, no hen harrier that visits the Mord Estate ever makes it out alive.”
Jack had never heard Twitch talking as angrily as this. He made a mental note not to mention that his mum and dad were going to the Halloween Ball at Mord Hall on Friday. He exchanged a glance with Terry. They were both thinking about Flatcap with his shotgun.
“Much as it’s lovely to see you all,” Nan announced, “I must start cooking dinner and there’s simply not enough room for us all. Yes, Twitch, you may borrow the vulture book.”
“Thanks, Nan,” said Twitch, hugging the book to his chest.
Ozuru closed his notebook and folded up the map. “So, the plan for tomorrow is to meet in Passerine Pike car park at nine o’clock?”
“Yes,” Twitch replied. “We need to make sure no one takes our spot. I can’t wait to show you the skywatch hide, Jack.”
“Dad’s going to be so excited when I tell him that a lammergeier is coming to Briddvale,” Tara said, pulling on her coat.
“I’ll finish the sky patrol rota tonight and let everyone know when they’re doing their lookout shifts in the morning,” Ozuru said happily.
Jack, Ava and Terry exchanged guilty glances. They hadn’t mentioned their investigation. There hadn’t been a good moment.
They all filed off the Kingfisher and onto the towpath, waving to Ava, Tippi and Nan. Jack glanced at the greenery behind which his bikes were hidden and walked away quickly.
“It’s only five thirty, and it’s getting dark already,” Twitch observed, catching up with him.
“The clocks went back today,” Ozuru said, zipping up his raincoat. “Last Sunday in October.”
“Oh! We never asked Ava and Tippi if they want to come trick-or-treating with us on Friday,” Jack said, looking back at the boat.
“Of course they will,” Twitch said. “I haven’t got a costume yet. Are you still planning to go as a zombie?”
“I always go as a zombie! They are literally the best costume. You can be any kind of human you want to be – a businessman or a cheerleader – but then you make the whole thing spooky and disgusting with dead pale skin, green and purple eye make-up, gunky hair and filthy nails. Last year, I got contact lenses that make your pupils look all milky and bloodshot.” Jack was suddenly hit by an idea he knew Twitch would like. “You could dress up as a birdwatcher zombie! You can wear your normal gear and I’ll make you look dead. We could even get you a fake plastic bird skeleton. I’m sure I saw one in the newsagent’s.”
“That’s actually a good idea.” Twitch laughed. “Well, we go this way.” He stepped up onto the lock. “See you tomorrow.”
Tara and Ozuru followed Twitch across the canal.
“What about the bikes?” Terry whispered to Jack, stepping onto the lock.
“Don’t worry. I’ll walk my parents’ bikes home now and get mine tomorrow.”
“Cool.”
“And, Terry, don’t you dare tell Ozuru anything.”
“I won’t,” Terry promised.
When Jack woke up the next morning, it was dark outside. He flipped on his light and looked at his watch. It was seven o’clock. He pulled back the curtain to see a sky clogged with swollen slate-grey clouds. Burning behind them was the fiery light of an angry sun. It occurred to Jack that Reggie might have been right about the storm, although he was yet to experience one that lived up to the hype of a weather forecast.
Last night, he’d sat up late working over everything he’d discovered about the cat shootings. He’d drawn a diagram of the houses that backed on to Pamela’s house and her neighbours’. He’d marked the apple tree as a crime scene and drawn Splatty’s trail of blood in red. He’d recorded the time and target of the shot that was fired at the pigeons in the fir tree. He’d put an X in the window that he thought the shot had been fired from. Was it Peaky’s bedroom? He’d dedicated a page to suspects, and so far he had three: Vernon Boon, because he didn’t care about animals and knew how to use a gun; Flatcap, because he had a gun and was in Peaky’s house when the pigeons were shot at; and Richard Peak, because it was his house the shot had been fired from. He also noted that Reggie and Lady Goremore both had guns, but were unlikely suspects because he couldn’t think of a motive for either of them. Jack had written down and drawn a circle around the words he’d heard Flatcap say as he left the Peaks’ house: “Tuesday. Six o’clock. Don’t be late.” Who had he been talking to?
Once dressed, Jack took his notebook downstairs. As he ate his cereal, he wrote a list of things he wanted to investigate today:
1) Ask Jess the vet about the other shootings.
2) Find out more about Flatcap. Who is he?
3) Interview Vernon Boon about the shootings.
4) The murder weapon. What kind of gun is it?
5) Motive? Why is someone shooting cats?
It was the motive that puzzled Jack the most. Why were cats suddenly being targeted this week? As he thought about this, his doorbell went.
Ava was standing on the doorstep with his green bike. “Morning,” she said cheerfully. “Bike delivery service.”
“Thanks.” Jack pushed the button to open the garage door and took his bike from her. “You didn’t need to bring it back.”
“Well, I’m also here because of Terry’s message.”
“What message?”
“Didn’t you see? He thinks he’s got a lead.”
Jack clapped his hand to his forehead. “I’ve been so busy thinking about the case, I forgot to check my phone!”
“Terry spoke to Vernon last night,” Ava said. “He’s bringing him to the Kingfisher this morning to talk to us.”
“Why the Kingfisher?”
“That was my idea. It’s private and neutral. We don’t want Vernon to know he’s a suspect. Terry thought it could be risky to bring him here if Peaky is mixed up in this.” She looked along the road at Richard Peak’s house. “And we don’t want Vernon to know where our hide is.” She shrugged. “Boat seemed like the best place. I said it was OK.”
“Wait here a sec.” Jack sprinted up the stairs to grab his phone and binoculars, and raced back down again. “Do you remember Vernon?” He hurriedly shoved his feet into his trainers, grabbed his coat, and stuffed his phone into his pocket.
“Yeah.” Ava nodded. “He’s the big guy that is always up for a fight.”
“That’s him. Not someone you want to upset. We’ll have to handle him carefully.” Jack waved her into the house.
There was an October chill in the air. The oppressive clouds had sucked all the warmth out of the morning. Jack and Ava’s breath rose in plumes of white mist as they passed through his garden gate onto the footpath. Within fifteen minutes they were hurrying towards the Kingfisher.
“I really wish we didn’t have to go up Passerine Pike today,” Jack grumbled. “I wanted to go to the vet and see if Jess has any more information about the other two cats. And we should visit the fishing and shooting shop in town, to ask if there’s a gun that shoots cold bullets.”
“Good idea.” Ava looked impressed. “Jack, I think it’s time we told the others what we’re doing?”
“No.” Jack’s guts clenched at this suggestion. He didn’t want Twitch to know that he’d lied to him, or worse, that he wasn’t excited about the vulture. “I think they’d be cross about yesterday,” he said, following Ava into the cabin.
“Hi, Jack.” Tippi was sitting at the table squeezing honey onto her waffle and sliced banana. “I am a bee-eater bird,” she announced, picking up the waffle with her fingers and eating it like a sticky sandwich.
“Where’s Nan?” Ava asked.
“In the shower,” Tippi replied. “Do you want a waffle, Jack?”
“No, thanks.” He sat down beside her. “That looks delicious, but I’ve had breakfast.”
“Knock, knock!” Terry called out as he approached the boat. “Anyone home?”
Terry was followed by the hulking Vernon and his mate Clem, a smaller, fair-haired boy with braces. Clem was the star striker of the school football team.
“Hi,” Ava greeted them.
“You’re the girl from the bank robbery,” Vernon said.
“My name’s Ava.”
“Has there been another robbery?” Clem asked.
“No,” Jack replied, “but we are working on another case.”
“What case?” Tippi asked, leaning forward, eyes wide.
Jack glanced at Ava.
“Tippi, go to your cabin,” Ava said. “This is a private conversation.”
“But I want to help,” Tippi protested.
“You can’t,” Ava said firmly. “You’re too young.”
Tippi huffed so that everyone could see how unhappy she was about this, then took her plate with the remainder of her waffle on it and stomped out of the room.
Ava waved them all to the table. The five of them sat down and Jack took out his notebook.
“Have you heard about the person going around shooting cats?” Jack said in a low voice, in case Tippi was listening. He studied Vernon’s face for any sign of a reaction that might incriminate him, but his expression was blank. He was more interested in the boat than what Jack was saying.
“Yeah. They got Pammy’s cat Splatty,” Clem said. “She’s really upset.”
“Exactly. We were hoping you might be able to help us with our investigation.”
“Is there going to be a fight?” Vernon’s face lit up.
“No” – Ava chuckled – “but if there is one, you’re the first person we’ll call.”
“I asked Vernon if he knew who Flatcap was last night,” Terry said, his knees bouncing with nervous energy. “Clem, tell them what you told me on the way over.”
“I’ve worked at Mord Hall since the beginning of the summer,” Clem said. “I muck out the stables and look after the horses. Weekends mostly, but sometimes after school if they need me.”
“I’ve worked there since August, on the hunts,” Vernon grunted. “Money’s good.”
“Yeah, but I do it because I get to ride the horses.” Clem smiled a mouthful of metal. “They’re all thoroughbreds.”
“Tell them about Nick Skinner,” Terry said.
“Who’s he?” Jack asked.
“The gamekeeper at Mord Hall,” Clem replied. “Nick Skinner is in charge of the heather moors and the grouse. He organizes the hunts.”
“That’s not all,” Terry butted in excitedly. “It turns out, he’s also Richard Peak’s uncle!”
Jack blinked, taking this in. This connection felt important, but it didn’t explain why cats were getting shot. “Can you describe Nick Skinner?” Jack asked Clem.
“He’s got small dark eyes with thick eyebrows and, because he walks the land every day, his skin’s like leather and his legs are bowed like a gorilla’s. He’s always dressed in boots, khaki slacks, a wax jacket and a flat cap.”
“That’s him.” Ava nodded. “That’s the man we followed from Richard Peak’s house.”
“What’s he like?” Jack asked.
Clem took a moment to think before replying. “You know when you have a bad dream and someone’s chasing you, in the dark, and you’re so scared that you can’t turn around to look and see who it is? You just know that you must keep running?”
Everyone nodded in silence. They’d all had that nightmare.
“Nick Skinner is the person you’re scared it might be,” Clem said gravely. “He doesn’t speak much, only barks orders. He’s a crack shot, won awards and stuff for it, and he’ll kill anything. When he looks at you, it’s like he’s thinking about how to hurt you. Everyone is scared of him. There’s only one person he’s nice to.”
“Who’s that?” Ava asked, curious.
“Lady Goremore. He follows her around like a spaniel. Anything she says is gospel. If you upset her, Nick Skinner will come for you.”
Jack could see that Clem was terrified of the man. He felt a secondary thrill of fear at the thought of investigating such a person. He had to admit, he’d prefer it if Nick Skinner wasn’t the culprit shooting cats.
“Vernon, are you a good shot?” Ava asked.
“Junior Clay Shooting Champion.” Vernon’s chest puffed up proudly. “I’ve been shooting since I was eight.”
“Do you have your own gun?” Jack asked.
Vernon shook his head. “I use Dad’s.”
Ava, Terry and Jack exchanged glances.
“Ever shot a live animal?” Terry asked.
Vernon looked at Terry with an expression that showed just how stupid he thought this question was. “Course! Dad runs the abattoir. You know that. He thinks if you’re going to eat an animal, you gotta be prepared to kill it. Who’d you think taught me to shoot?”
“But you wouldn’t ever shoot someone’s pet?” Ava said.
“Depends,” Vernon pondered the question. “If it had rabies or went savage and stole a baby…”
“Vernon didn’t shoot Pammy’s cat,” Clem said, flatly.
“What?” Vernon looked surprised by the statement. “Pammy’s a mate. Course I didn’t.”
“Would you ever shoot someone else’s cat?” Jack asked.
“Not unless they asked me to,” Vernon replied matter-of-factly. “Like as a mercy, or if they were dangerous.”
“Tell them what you told me about Peaky,” Terry prompted him.
“At the beginning of the hunting season, Mr Skinner hired me as a beater, to walk through the heather swinging a stick and flush out the birds. Peaky and Madden were hired as loaders for the hunting parties.”
“What are loaders?” Ava asked.
“They go with the hunters, carry the guns and load them. That way a hunter can grab loaded guns and keep shooting.”
“Grouse fly fast,” Clem said by way of explanation.
Jack thought of how much this would horrify Twitch and was glad his friend couldn’t hear the conversation.
“Loaders are normally marksmen, but Peaky blatantly got the job cause of the family connection. He and Madden were useless with the guns, dropping them and forgetting the safety. Mr Skinner got really mad and fired them both mid hunt. I had to step in and be loader.” Vernon nodded proudly.
“He made them muck out the stables.” Clem’s miserable expression told them what he thought about having to work with Peaky and Madden. “About a week ago. I heard Peaky tell Madden that his uncle had a new job for them, and I haven’t seen them since.”
“A week ago – that’s when the shootings started. Do you think it’s linked? Could Peaky or Madden be shooting at cats as target practice?” Jack wondered.
