Nigel took a moment to mull it all around. The Harding brothers could be onto something if they were speaking the truth. “My animals were… poisoned? Not any poison I know that can make an animal’s head fall off.” His sarcasm was potent, but well founded.
“I know it sounds preposterous, Nigel, but what if both causes of death are feasible? Maybe…” he seemed to bob slightly as he thought up a scenario to use as analogy, “the person poisons the animals and then rips them up like that.”
“Yeah, mate, that sounds like a thing,” Gary agreed, slapping his brother on the back. “Maybe they kill the dogs so that they can get to the sheep.”
“I would have found that theory plausible, my boy,” the old man said, “…if it made sense. Why would they go through the trouble of poisoning the dogs to get to the sheep and then mutilate them and just leave them there? Whoever is doing this is doing it for sport, not to steal meat. What? What? Are you suggesting we have an animal serial killer on our hands?”
He blurted out the crassest laugh that affirmed his hopelessness and intolerance towards the two young men. The Harding’s had to agree that these were senseless and cruel killings, perpetrated for no reason. They had to concur that the modus operandi left a big hole in their hypothesis.
“Alright, I tell you what,” Cecil told the old man. “We have to get to the bottom of this from the point of view we hold. The police are not skilled in forensics, are they? No, but I am. While they look for the people who took Dad from a criminal angle, I can investigate this tragedy from my perspective, hey?”
“You are going to give the dogs an autopsy?” Nigel mocked him. The farmer had a good chuckle and carried on wrapping the tarp around the latest slain animal.
To Cecil the mockery was unnecessary, but he insisted. “Nigel, I am dead serious. Don’t bury the dogs. Tomorrow, first thing, I am driving through to Christchurch to book out what I need from Henslow’s Veterinary Clinic. They know me there. I am going to lay out the two dogs and this latest sheep for a pathological examination. Then we can know, once and for all, what the bloody hell is after the animals. Whoever is doing this, is going to run out of animals soon enough.” His eyes were wide and serious. “And who do you think will be their next quarry?”
18 Welcome to Nekenhalle
In the bright morning sun, the two brothers left early and drove to Christchurch, on the eastern coast of South Island, where Cecil Harding planned to obtain the necessary medical materials to facilitate his rustic pathological examination. They were there by the time the doors opened, and Gary was astonished at the warm welcome his brother received from the local medical staff. For once, the plump older brother was the talkative one and Gary allowed him the limelight. After all, he was a doctor, and merited his younger brother’s respect.
Gary wandered through the facility, looking at the wall-mounted posters and paging through some of the AgriVet publications on the reception counter while he waited for Cecil to finish his business. He would never tell Cecil, but every free thought moment he had was brimming with shards of memory from the fateful day his father was taken. Gary prided himself on being a typical New Zealand bloke, a tough and masculine brute who had no time for sensitive feelings and therapy. Yet, he could not deny that those brief moments alone with his own mind was a cumbersome torture.
He could still hear Lewis screaming when he was dragged into the mountain, just like the tractor was pulled back into the darkness. Now and then, when he was not distracted, he remembered how he could briefly hear his father cry like a child, wailing hopelessly in the dark. Gary, the man’s man, could not come to terms with the level of terror that prompted him to be such a perfect coward. The way in which he dashed down that hill to escape the same fate as his father, would forever shame him.
Ringing switchboard phones and the conversations around him faded in favor of the unholy memories of how his father shouted his name, calling for his son to save him, as his voice gradually grew weaker. Thoughts of what took Lewis, of what it intended to do with him, would not allow Gary any peace. The sense of not knowing what had befallen his father after he slid over the black sand into the chasm, was the pinnacle of Gary’s despair.
Instead of proving he was as good as Bill Best, Gary did not come to his father’s aid during the attack. He simply scurried away like a cockroach, tripping over weeds and falling most of the way down. And still he rather took the hitching of the thorns to rip at his skin than to suffer similar pain and effort up by the mouth of the mountain, for the sake of his father’s life. The guilt was killing him.
“And now you want to see if they were poisoned like your dogs? My God, Cecil, I hope you can get to the bottom of this,” said Dr. Elaine Foxworth, as she accompanied Cecil out into the main reception lobby. He had relayed the entire story to her in her office and subsequently, she agreed to give him the instruments and material he needed on loan.
“We have to get to the bottom of this, Elaine,” he said. “I mean, the condition in which we find the animals, screams predator, but we all know there are no large predators in New Zealand. I mean, Christ, we have someone out there acting like a poacher, but only kills pets and livestock. I need to find out why, and only the carcasses will tell us that.”
“Well, you know the reason I am breaking the rules of the Veterinary Association to accommodate you, is because you have always taken veterinary science seriously. Now me, I am just satisfied saving pets and healing the sick puppies, while you are a true pioneer. You delve into the cellular secrets that could present solutions instead of just treating animals. Your father should be proud of you,” she rambled courteously. Gary smirked as his inner voice amused him. ‘She is clearly a fan. Wonder if she knows he is into cock.’
“This is my brother, Gary.” Without warning, Cecil suddenly introduced him to the busty, blond Elaine, catching him off guard. Gary felt stupid and unprepared, but he held his pose when he shook hands with the sexy veterinarian. “Nice to meet you,” was all he could utter at such short notice, but at least he did not stutter or say ‘fuck’ as readily as he did with Mrs. Cockran. Besides, with the tone Cecil introduced his brother with, and the accompanying leer, Gary knew he had to behave.
“You know, now that you mentioned animals getting poisoned,” Elaine told Cecil, “I believe our colleagues in Oz are having a time of it, hey?”
“How do you mean?” he asked.
“Haven’t you heard about the latest scourge over there? Apparently, some conservationist with a God-complex has now introduced poison capsules into a few dingoes, like a time bomb,” she said under her breath to maintain a professional demeanor in the public area.
“What?” he frowned.
“Some people there are ‘managing wildlife’, as they put it, in a controversial manner that has the conservation groups in uproar. To cull wild goats, they are sending in a handful of dingoes, due for extermination to do the job. Hey? How do you like that?” she pursed her lips and raised her eyebrow.
“You are shitting me,” Gary said.
“Nope, I swear, that is what they are doing. Now I am thinking, maybe that kind of poisoning is somehow involved here in New Zealand too. Maybe it is supposed to be a test. Maybe the poison was introduced by accident when one of those wildlife organizations introduced a tarnished specimen, if you know what I mean.”
“Holy shit,” Cecil gasped. “That makes a lot of sense.”