For some reason he had been expecting her to be an over-earnest, slightly untidy social-worker type, not this smartly turned-out woman in a sleek, no-nonsense suit, her face alert and intelligent, with just a touch of make-up — pale lipstick, nothing obtrusive. As businesswoman of the year she’d have been a press photographer’s dream. Not a single blonde hair was out of place.
Her office, she explained, was on the second floor of the Victorian east wing in what had once been a servant’s attic.
‘A bit of a climb, I’m afraid!’ she apologised. ‘We’ll go up the main staircase, it’s quicker. This is the original oak panelling, by the way. You’ll see it all the way up. I suppose we should be grateful some planner hasn’t ripped it out by now. Knowing this council, they must have been tempted.’
It was a wide wooden staircase with ornate bannisters, perhaps as old as the house itself. The space behind the wall panels was probably ideal breeding ground for insects of all kinds, Guy thought.
On the top landing she led the way along the corridor, then up more narrow stairs until they arrived at her office. She took a wallet of keys out of her bag.
‘The department’s labs and so on are in the basement,’ she explained crisply as she opened the door. ‘But I’m using this office for more confidential work.’
On her desk — it was the first thing he noticed — were three beetles, each preserved in liquid in a specimen case made of transparent plastic. At the sight of that familiar pink-and-green colouring he stopped dead, his throat suddenly dry. They were the first he’d seen since that night in the school.
‘Oh, sorry about those, Guy!’ She gave another of her deprecating little laughs. ‘I keep them on my desk to help convince the unbelievers. Fetch yourself a chair.’
Her office was surprisingly small, with only just enough space for her desk, a filing cabinet and some shelves. The only free chair stood next to the dormer window and he had to stoop to avoid hitting his head on the sloping ceiling. He moved it closer and sat down.
‘You said the beetle infestation was spreading,’ he prompted her.
‘We’ve had some twenty reports of beetles like these, though usually no more than two or three at a time. Some have been seen near where you live. The Plough public house, for instance.’
‘I know about the Plough. Where else?’
‘Guy, that’s not the point. Take a look at these.’ From the filing cabinet she produced a slim folder, which she opened, extracting several large photographs. She handed them to him. ‘They’re rather nasty, I’m afraid. I hope you’re not squeamish.’
Guy sorted through them with distaste. They were colour pictures, brutally factual, of a dead dog. Part of its neck and body had been eaten away, exposing the rib-cage.
‘I’d guess they were taken by a police photographer.’ Feeling slightly sick, he returned them to her desk. ‘I hope he enjoys his work.’
‘There’s a post-mortem report from the vet.’
She passed him two sheets of typed headed paper, stapled together. Guy glanced through it, though much of the detail was expressed in specialist veteminary terms which he only partly understood. A red line had been drawn in the margin alongside the last paragraph, which stated that, in the writer’s opinion, ‘the extent and nature of damage to the tissues indicate feeding by a larger, possibly toothless animal. They are not likely to have been caused exclusively by beetles of the type discovered dose to the body.’
‘What exactly does that mean?’ Guy asked.
He eyed the preserved beetles on her blotter. They looked menacingly attractive as the light caught them. Like expensive brooches.
‘Loose fragments of tom flesh,’ Mary explained patiently. ‘As though something — some creature — had been tearing at it. Either without teeth, or the teeth were badly worn down. That’s what he told me.’
‘How can he be sure?’
‘He was ten years in Kenya before he took his present job. Worked on a game reserve. Another thing, you’ll see from this fourth paragraph that the body was completely drained of blood, as though it had been sucked dry.’ Her briskness began to falter. ‘The dead tramp was in the same condition.’
‘Where was the dog found?’ inside a disused workshop in Miller Road. The place had been standing empty for a year or more. Quite an old building; they used to make furniture there. Well, recently the property was bought by an Asian company specialising in video cassettes. Multi-copying, that sort of thing. All quite legal and above board. The contractors moved in to start work on the conversion and discovered the dog there, plus several beetles which they killed.’ ‘None of the workmen hurt?’
‘No. Luckily they were local men and knew what to expect. They cleared out right away, then contacted my department. Guy, this PM report worries me. In fact, it’s why I rang you. I’d like you to describe exactly what you saw when you found the tramp. About the snakes, I mean.’
Guy shrugged. ‘You seem to have heard it already.’ ‘Detective-Sergeant Evans told me something.’ Reaching over to her desk, he picked up one of the beetles and examined it. ‘These things were flying at me from all over the place, crawling under my clothes, biting… If you want the truth, I was in a blind panic. I don’t know whether I saw anything or not.’
‘Guy, I do know what it’s like,’ she said meaningfully, ‘I couldn’t breathe either, because of this smell they were farting out at me. That could have been hallucinatory, I suppose. Like mescaline or LSD or something,’ He returned the beetle to the desk. ‘We have to look for the most rational explanation.’
‘What did the snakes look like?’
‘Snakes? Long… swaying.. squirming… curling., But no, they weren’t actually snakes, though they were similar. These were more like worms, though with big, slobbering mouths.’
‘Why d’you say slobbering?’
‘Dripping. A sort of dark saliva.’
‘And teeth?’
‘No. Oh no, I’m sure I’d have noticed teeth.’
‘What about their bodies — did they have scales, like snakes?’
‘Segmented — as I said, like worms. Very clear segments, I can swear to that.’
‘And how big were they?’
‘About the size of a cobra. And they held their heads in much the same way as a cobra. Look, it was typical nightmare stuff!’
‘They had eyes?’ she bore on relentlessly, scribbling her notes as she spoke.
‘Oh yes, they had eyes all right.’ He paused. ‘Now tell me you saw them too!’ he challenged her.
‘I didn’t. My panic took a different course. Mine was… well, simple cowardice.’
‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of,’ he assured her. ‘Faced with the unexpected.’
‘I couldn’t move, couldn’t think… I was completely paralysed by blind terror. I’m not proud of how I behaved.’
‘So that’s why you keep these beetles on your desk,’ he commented, thinking he understood. ‘To prove something to yourself.’
Her reaction proved him right.
‘Mr Archer, can we stick to the subject?’ Her voice was coldly venomous, is there anything more you can say about the snakes?’
‘Worms,’ he corrected her, feeling suddenly more relaxed. ‘I prefer to think of them as worms. Or maggots.’ ‘Why?
‘That’s what they resembled. Oh, I know it’s all totally bloody improbable, not to be taken seriously. 1 was scared, same as you were. Out of my mind.’
‘Nevertheless, what you describe could well fit the vet’s report on the dog,’ she observed thoughtfully. ‘We can’t dismiss it.’