The Beasts of Upton Puddle (12 page)

“Good morning. Clarkdale Secondary Education. Can I help you?”

“Yes,” said Joe, breathless. “I'd like to speak to Mr. Graves as quickly as possible, please. It's an emergency.”

“I'll see if he's available. Who should I say is calling?”

“It's Joe Copper. I'm in his class. Please get him quickly. I think some other boys in my class might have been . . . hurt. We were in the woods, and a great big—I think it was the Beast—it . . .”

“Whoa! Slow down, slow down. Was Kurt Duggan one of those boys?”

“Yes, yes! He might've been—”

“He's fine. He and three others are in the headmaster's office right now. He's asked me to find a replacement for his lessons this afternoon, so I think they're in quite a bit of trouble.”

“But they're okay?”

“A little shaken up at being caught truanting, but yes, they're fine . . . Were you with them? Where are you now?”

“I'm . . . safe,” was all Joe could think to say before thrusting the handset back on the cradle with his eyes crinkled shut.

His hand remained on the phone as he thought through the possible scenarios. Whatever happened, he was probably going to get into a lot of trouble when
he got back, but at least nobody was hurt. That was the important thing.

Joe breathed a huge sigh of relief and tried to get his bearings again. Outside, Heinrich was apparently still wrestling with the psychotic basketball as it pounded away inside the van. It was probably not the best time to stick his nose in uninvited, but perhaps now Joe could find Mrs. Merrynether and ask her if he could see Cornelius.

Despite the continued thonk and thunk of the mysterious Flarp bouncing around inside its temporary prison, Joe heard the van door slide open and then slam shut. Within seconds Heinrich had burst into the cellar, slammed the trapdoor, and raced down the steps. He halted, startled when he saw Joe standing before him. Beads of sweat clung to the good side of his face, while the burned side oddly remained dry, and green goo clumped in his hair.

With a shudder, Joe wondered what sort of a creature he'd been grappling with. “Hello?” he said awkwardly.

“What are you doing here? No, never mind,” Heinrich said, exasperated. “Tell me later. Just follow me quickly. The inspector will be down here any minute, and if he finds out what we do here, it will all be over.”

Muffled voices came from behind the door leading to the pantry. Joe recognized one of those as Mrs. Merrynether's. The other belonged to that of an officious, gruff-sounding man. Probably the inspector that Heinrich had mentioned.

Joe felt one of Heinrich's large hands planted gently but firmly on his back, pushing him toward the vault.

“Through the door, quick. If he comes into the vault, God forbid, and sees us, you're my nephew visiting for the week. Understood?”

“But—” Joe protested as he was thrust through the door and manhandled down the steps.

“Understood?”

Argument was obviously not an option.

“Yes, but won't the inspector see all the—?” Joe stopped short as he entered the vault.

It appeared that a great deal of effort had gone into
disguising the Merrynether menagerie. The manticore's enclosure, as well as all the other cages, were hidden behind huge wooden screens made to look like walls. The vault seemed a lot smaller than before but was considerably brighter than usual—so much so that Joe found himself squinting at the blue-white glare flooding the area. Shielding his eyes, he looked up to the stony ceiling and saw a lightbulb dangling on a piece of black string disguised as an electric cable. It was too bright to see Danariel's slender form inside the glass, but Joe knew she was in there.

All possible signs of beast life had been completely hidden, but the visual trickery hadn't done anything to conceal the strange whoops and cackles or the pungent smells.

“Louder than usual, aren't they?” Joe commented to Heinrich.

The man paced around in no particular direction. “Louder? Yes. Oh, yes! Thank you.” Heinrich rushed past Joe to his desk, shoved unfinished letters into a drawer, and rushed to switch on an enormous flatscreen TV recently mounted on the wall. He stabbed at the buttons at the bottom of the screen until a wildlife channel portrayed jungle scenes. A cacophony of squawking parrots, roaring lions, and screaming chimps competed with the excited noise of Mrs. Merrynether's beasts and Heinrich gave a quick thumbs-up to Joe.

“And the stench?” Joe asked.

“Oh!” Heinrich froze, then grabbed an aerosol by
his desk and began running around the vault spraying liberally.

The vault door swung open, and in stepped Mrs. Merrynether accompanied by Archy the pig and a pristinely suited man.

Joe instantly disliked the man. He had the expression of someone who had accidentally placed his hand into a soiled nappy. With his nose lifted and nostrils flared, the inspector cast his heavy-lidded gaze around the vault. Archy rubbed his snout against the man's crisp trousers and snorted when the man sharply nudged him aside.

Mrs. Merrynether glanced at Joe. If she was surprised at his unexpected presence, she hid it well.

“Somewhat bright in here, isn't it?” The man sneered as he raised his voice above the jungle racket.

Mrs. Merrynether pierced Heinrich with a hard stare as he scuffed to a stop, hiding the aerosol can behind his back and smiling nervously.

“Heinrich, would you be so kind as to dim”—the blue-white glare softened suddenly as she spoke—“the lights?”

Heinrich's nervous smile widened into an embarrassed grimace. He shrugged as though he'd somehow lowered the lights by using an unseen command. The inspector's drooping eyelids narrowed.

Joe crept to the side, beckoning Archy, hoping not to draw attention.

“Is it absolutely necessary to assault my ears with
this terrible noise?” The man's gruff voice was barely audible above the animals' sounds.

“Mr. Huffney, I'm afraid our Heinrich does enjoy his surround sound. And he's a little on the deaf side, you see.”

Huffney waved a pen at Heinrich. “Could you turn it down a little, please?”

“Eh?” Heinrich replied, looking perplexed.

“I said, could you turn it down, please?”

“What?”

“I . . . Oh, never mind.”

The inspector, clearly irritated by everything around him, scribbled on the paper in his clipboard. He turned sharply to Mrs. Merrynether. “It would appear that extensive refurbishment has been carried out here.” He flicked some papers over. “According to standard council procedure, you should have completed a D974 renovations form to make any changes to a government-standard nuclear bunker.” He stared down his long nose at Mrs. Merrynether, and a brief but icy silence ensued. “Has this been actioned, Mrs. Merrynether?”

“Eh?” shouted Heinrich.

“Not you!”

Mrs. Merrynether pointed at the inspector. “I can assure you that I went through all the appropriate channels when Merrynether Mansion was renovated.”

“There is no record of any government-sanctioned builders contracted to do work here. Whom did you
employ?”

“I don't trust any layabouts employed by Upton Puddle Council; I did it privately.”

“That just won't do. Any work of this nature must be performed by government-approved—”

“Oh, poppycock! It's my mansion. I'll do as I please.”

Huffney's expression twisted from general disdain to a picture of squirming indignation.

Heinrich, apparently suffering from extreme nervous tension, unwittingly pressed the nozzle behind his back. A loud hiss ripped through the air, joining the shriek of monkeys from the jungle documentary. With an apologetic expression, Heinrich showed them his aerosol can.

The inspector stared at him as if he were looking at a dog that had just defecated on his lawn.

“He has a few . . . digestive problems,” Mrs. Merrynether improvised. “He takes air freshener with him everywhere.”

“Eh?” barked Heinrich.

Huffney shook his head. “A deaf and flatulent assistant? How charming.”

And then with timing that caused everyone's stomach to leap, a loud Irish shout boomed out, and the light in the room was mysteriously dampened to a dim blue glow.

“It's da horle family. Even da boy can't horld it in. Look at da little ankle boiter's backsoide. He's wet
himself! You'd better get out before you drown in muck.”

Joe checked the back of his trousers. It was only an hour ago he'd been hiding behind the school dustbins, sitting in filth.

“Who the devil was that, and who turned the lights down?” screamed Huffney.

Joe couldn't be sure if it was rage or shock that drove the exclamation, but either way, he could tell that the man was close to snapping.

At the sound of the cluricaun's voice, Archy yanked himself away from Joe and ran toward the back of the vault. No doubt the pig would be as unsuccessful in catching the Irish pest as everyone else had been.

“Come and get me, little piggy.”

“I said, who was that?”

“Please stay calm, Mr. Huffney,” said Mrs. Merrynether, “I'm sure that—”

“Didn't ya hear me, deafy? There must be a village somewhere deproived of its idiot. Oi said, you'd better go away before ya gets covered in muck. Dat gores for arl of yaz!” The last sentence was growled rather than shouted.

Archy came running back, squealing. A large patch of dark brown gunk had been splattered over his head. Two balls of what looked suspiciously like excrement whistled through the air. They splattered close to Huffney's shiny shoes. His eyes were open almost as wide as his mouth as another barrage flew past, hitting the
vault door, apparently in anticipation of Archy scrambling up the stairs. At the far end of the vault, where the light was dimmest, Joe thought he could see the sky-blue color of Lilly's waistcoat and a line of devices like miniature trebuchets made with old wooden spoons and clothes pegs.

“This is preposterous! Whoever you are, stop this immediately. You are threatening a civil servant!”

“Ah, shot ya horle, ya rotten faker. And may da seven terriers of hell sit on ya shorlders and bark in at ya soul-case!”

Huffney's mouth opened even wider, which Joe considered to be extremely unwise as another shower of dung rained around them.

The panicked inspector pulled his jacket over his head and rushed for the vault door. “I'll see myself out. You'll be hearing from the county court, Mrs. Merrynether.”

Thwak! A particularly large dung packet struck Huffney square in the back, and the inspector almost tripped as he ran from the vault. Joe could still hear his screams as the man fled from the mansion.

As soon as Huffney had left, the excremental onslaught ceased and the light came up to a normal level.

Heinrich stepped carefully around brown puddles and switched off the TV. Oddly, the hidden creatures had quieted down, and all that could be heard was the cluricaun laughing hysterically.

“Lilly,” yelled Mrs. Merrynether, “you've gone too far this time. That's no whiskey for three weeks!”

The laughter continued.

Mrs. Merrynether turned on Heinrich, who flinched. “Every time something like this happens, it reminds me of your shabby security measures. If ever I find out how he got out of that cage, I'll—” She pursed her lips and drew a deep breath through her nose.

“I'm sorry, Ronnie. I already told you it wasn't me. What more can I do?” Heinrich said plaintively.

She nodded firmly.

Joe stepped forward, a surge of fresh guilt welling in his stomach as he approached Mrs. Merrynether. She turned to look at him, her wrinkled brow making her look like a furious walnut.

“And as for you, young man, why aren't you at school? What do you think you're doing here?”

“I . . .”

“Well?”

Joe wanted so desperately to tell her that it was his fault the cluricaun had escaped. That he was sorry for all the trouble he'd caused. But as each moment passed, he found it harder to speak. Then the memory of panic in the forest rushed like a hot wind through his mind.

“The Beast of Upton Puddle—I saw it again in the woods, so I ran here as fast as I could.”

A flush of concern reddened her cheeks, but suspicion remained in her eyes. “The Beast? The one you saw before? The same one that raided Mr. Bacon's store?”

“Yes.”

“Can you describe it?”

“Sure, it's—”

“Good. Then we can discuss this Beast of yours later. Right now I'm more concerned about getting everything ready for our next patient. It's a terrible mess in here.”

“Can I help you clean up?” Joe asked.

“That's not for you to do,” she said, turning to squint at the back of the vault.

The laughter had stopped.

“You have an hour's grace before you have to clean up this disaster, Lilly. As soon as we've settled Flarp inside, you'll have to get to work. Do you hear me?” she shouted. “I hope you realize what you've done. We'll have the council, the police, and goodness knows who else coming down here in no time, thanks to you.”