The Shit-Poo Epos
Episode 2
He sticks the key in the ignition and sends up a little prayer. The hupmobile is beautiful, a rare gem on the road. It’s cream interior was once white, perhaps, and the paint had once been unscratched, but he feels the car has what it needs, a lot of oomph. If it starts. This time it does without a problem and he taps the dash with a loving hand. She is a beauty.
It takes him twenty minutes to get to Dame Gnaufert’s house. Or rather, mansion. He whistles appreciatively when he rolls up to the drive, lined by old oaks. He leans over the steering wheel to see the whole place. A mansion for sure. It could have been transported from Britain, picture-perfect. Any moment he expects a fox hunting party to dash out in front of his bumper. But nothing like that happens. That would be weird.
The round drive way is full of large limousines being washed by a servant in livery. The cars gleam in the sunlight, polished to a shine Sam’s shoes have never seen. Again he whistles. He stops next to the servant, ‘where can I park her?’ The servant slowly turns from his job and looks at the car, a mocking drawing of the mouth, then at Sam, the look does not disappear. ‘Drive around the back to the servants entrance. This car should not be in front of the Dame’s house. Remember that too for the next time.’ ‘Are you being smart sonny?’ The servant snorts, ‘I am not being paid to be smart sir, but to keep the Dame’s house look presentable.’ After a curt bow he turns and returns to the car he was waxing.’ ‘Polish this bozo,’ Sam mumbles and tears away and around the house, leaving the servant and his wax-job in a cloud of dust.
He is about to knock on the door but it opens before he can. William’s face looks impassive as Sam is waved inside. Sam looks at the manservant. Sam himself is a big guy, tall, his hands are good. He loves his hands. Real pugilist hands. He shadow boxes in his office. He always wins. An arena full of screaming people. And he fucks before matches, but it doesn’t change anything. He is chock-full of power, nothing can drain it. And believe him, they try. He smirks. He is not sure if he could take William in an honest fight. Passing the manservant he is held back, a hand on his chest, for a moment Sam thinks it is go-time but all William says is ‘your hat please.’ Again Sam grins and hands the butler the hat. There is a deep smell of wealth in the mansion. A smell of mahogany, expensive paintings, silver-polish. Sam nearly wants to pluck his eyes out after the cutest little thing in a chamber-maid outfit scampers past. He is not sure he can live knowing he will never have her. But he leaves his eyes alone. Confidence, he thinks, is key and he is full of it. ‘It might happen,’ he thinks as the girl leaves his sight going up the stairs. He is led into the lounge where the Dame is sitting on an emerald velvet sofa, golden trimming at the edges, the feet are big cat’s claws. ‘Please take a seat Mr Bound and let me explain all of this in more detail to you.’ He smiles at her willingly and with a small bow says, ‘if ma’am doesn’t mind I would like to use your bathroom first.’ ‘Of course Mr Bound, William will show you the way.’ She does looks bemused.
The toilet is the size of Sam’s office, he almost expects a golden bowl, but is disappointed with simple white porcelain. He takes a loud piss, shakes and puts it away. Washing his hands he looks at himself in the mirror. He should have shaved. The stubble does not become him. Or, it does, but not in this line of work. He looks like he might be playing for the bad guys. Oh, well, blend in. He winks at himself. Before he leaves the bathroom he looks on the little shelf of toiletries, but does not see any toilet freshener. Little bags of potpourri are hanging above the door and in several spots around the bathroom. No vulgar toilet freshener for rich shit.
Back in the lounge the Dame has not moved but her face is worried. She is holding another envelope. ‘Another letter came while you were in the bathroom Mr Bound. It came with today’s mail.’ Sam takes it from her hand, ‘don’t open it. Let me have a look at it first.’ The envelope is the same as the previous one, slightly yellowed in the sunlight. The same red pen, but the name has been spelled correctly this time, ‘DAME GNAUFERT’. The postal stamp is from this city, no surprise there. ‘What does it say?’ The Dame looks worried, her lower lip quivers with worry. ‘Let’s see.’ Sam opens the envelope. The kidnappers are going up in the world, the letter is written on actual paper. ‘BRING THE MONEY TO THE PIG AND WHISTLE AT 9:00PM FRIDAY. ONE MAN AND ONE MAN ONLY. NO POLICE OR THE DOG GETS IT.’ ‘The pig and whistle? What is that?’ ‘It’s a pub ma’am, actually in my neighborhood. These idiots are pulling a stunt in my neck of the woods. They’ll be surprised when they see me.’ William who has been witnessing the exchange interrupts, ‘but if only one man will go, then I will go and no-one else.’ Sam sizes him up. ‘Why are you so keen to get into harms way?’ He gets up from his seat and looks the butler in the eye, ‘or perhaps you don’t have to worry about that? Maybe you know the kidnappers and you know you will be safe to split the money?’ Stars, then a searing white pain behind his eyes. All of a sudden he is laying on the floor, William standing over him. ‘Apologies Dame Gnaufert,’ William says as he offers Sam his hand, ‘but I could not let that go over my side.’ ‘Don’t worry about it William.’ And to Sam she says, ‘get up Mr Bound and please note that William has my utmost trust. He is my confidant and foremost protector. Sam takes Williams’ hand and lets himself be lifted. The man is strong. ‘Apologies ma’am,’ he winks at William, ‘and sorry Will, no offense.’
‘Where was the dog taken from?’ ‘She was last seen in the gardens.’ ‘Then I will need to inspect the gardens,’ he says. She turns to William, ‘take him to Bobby, he can show Mr Bound the grounds.’ She turns abruptly and disappears down the hallway as William glares at him.
Bobby is a slight guy with red hair wearing blue coveralls and thick gumboots. In his hand is a rake and from his pocket stick some pruning shears. ‘I think she was taken from here. She runs around these gardens nearly all day. A dog’s life can’t be that bad. She digs up my rose-bushes though. I spoke to the Dame about it, but she said that if the dog wants to dig up the last rosebush in the world I’ll have to stand there and encourage it. She loves that dog. She thinks it’s people.’ At this Sam raises and eyebrow. ‘Seriously, I have seen her speak to that dog like it was human. More human than anyone else it seems.’ Bobby pauses and looks behind him. ‘She certainly never spoke to me as if I was human.’ Sam winks at him. ‘The grounds are surrounded by a high fence and at night William has his own dogs who keep watch.’ ‘His own dogs?’ ‘Two of the most ferocious Doberman’s you ever saw. They are kept behind the servant’s quarters in a steel-mesh cage. They’ll listen to no-one but William. No-one who lives here dares to leave the servant’s quarters at night unless they are with William. Those beasts will tear you apart.’ ‘You think the dog might have gotten in with the Doberman’s?’ Bobby snorts, ‘I don’t think so. We would have heard it. Those motherhumpers are loud. They would’ve danced on that little corpse. There are no squirrels left in those whole place. Rabbits neither. Why the Dame lets it happen I don’t know. We have never had a problem with intruders. Well,’ he smiles sheepishly, ‘until now.’ Sam looks at the man, how old was he? Perhaps in his forties? ‘How long have you been here Bobby?’ ‘Born and raised mister,’ he points at the dirt. ‘Come I’ll show you where they got the dog, I think.’ They are now approaching the fence. ‘I think they came over here. It must’ve been broad daylight, that’s why those Doberman’s didn’t tear them apart.’ They are amongst old pines that block the daylight. Under a large tree they can see the sign of a struggle, leaves moved, a darker patch where the ground has been disturbed. Sam kneels next to it. It would make sense. But how would a kidnapper know the dog would come here? ‘Did the dog come here often?’ ‘It was one of her hideouts yes.’ He laughs, remembering something: ‘One time she ate a mushroom. She was puking bile when I found her near here, kicking the dirt like she was dying. The vet came immediately, pumped her stomach. I never knew they could do that with dogs. The Dame cried. That is when we realized how much that dog meant to her.’
Kneeling next to the patch Sam can see footsteps leading from the fence to where the struggle supposedly took place. ‘What is on the other side of that fence?’ ‘Parklands. They used to be part of the estate, but the Dame donated them to the community. Now anyone can go there. Who would’ve know that it would be a problem? Who would want to harm the Dame?’ Sam frowns and stands up. He towers over the slight groundskeeper, ‘yes, who would want to harm the Dame?’ Bobby looks up at him confused, ‘I don’t know.’ Sam smiles, ‘just checking. Let’s have a look at the other side of the fence.’
They walk along the tracks leading from the fence. The tracks are visible, but unfortunately no clear footprints can be discerned. The leaves prevented it. On the other side of the fence they can see tyre-tracks. There is not even a footpath here. Cars should not have been here. Maybe someone saw the car. ‘Is anyone in charge of this park?’ ‘The Park-authority, but they are not always here.’ Sam reaches into his jacket and draws from it a pencil and a hip-flask of bourbon. He takes a drink from it then offers it to Bobby who takes it without a word. With the pencil he measures the tyre-tracks. The wheels have left a deep ridge in the soft ground here and he can clearly see where the car was parked and where it drove off to. The tracks lead right away from the fence then veer off to the right. ‘What direction is that?’ ‘The exit of the park, north-side, toward the city.’ Scratching his stubble he stares at the tracks. Bobby is standing right next to him. He doesn’t seem to see it as he hops from one foot onto the other. ‘Need the toilet Bobby?’ ‘Huh?’ ‘You seem in need.’ Sam points at his feet. ‘Plenty of trees around.’ ‘Ah yes, well, I won’t do that. But I might return to the servant’s quarters if you don’t mind. Nature calls. You will find you way back I’m sure?’ ‘Yes Bobby, I’ll be ok. Thank you. I’ll catch up soon.’ The gardener walks away. Sam listens for him leaving with his back to the man. He is staring at the tyre-tracks. Something is not right here. He kneels next to the tread and with his pencil draws the profile of the wheels on his pad. He’ll have to visit his friend Tim. But now that he has lost Bobby he might have another look around, perhaps the servant’s quarters. With a bit of luck the chambermaid is off duty.
To Be Continued Next Friday...
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