Bovicide, Zombie Diaries, and the Legend of the Brothers Brown Read online

  Chapter Three: Breaching Embargo

  It was four days before Paddington accepted he was getting nowhere with Betsy’s murder. His best lead – a hair he’d found at the crime scene that was too smooth to belong to either the cow or her owner – had already been shown to both of Archi’s vets; neither could determine what animal it came from. When Paddington asked whether there was some Mainland test that might help, he received an official warning from his mother. It was Richard’s cow, she said, and he didn’t want Mainlanders involved.

  Paddington therefore busied himself showing his photographs of Betsy’s corpse to every taxidermist on Archi. Most of the island’s men hunted on weekends – and weekdays if they could get away with it – and had a fair knowledge of local fauna. He’d circulated posters, but no information came forth. Last night had been spent rereading The Archi Animal Anthology without finding anything resembling Richard’s description.

  Surely the animal needed to eat all the time, so why hadn’t anyone else reported dead cattle? Was there some grand conspiracy? Had everyone involved been sworn to secrecy? Did the creature belong to someone important, like the duke?

  Or was he just wishing something interesting would happen on his boring little island?

  At seven o’clock, as the sun neared the end of its daily trudge, Paddington left his cottage and drove west. The evening was still and cool and he let it rush in the windows to clear the smell of his fear. Tonight was his first date with Lisa.

  Eventually he ran out of road, climbed out of his car, and trod carefully along the cracked stone path toward the ivy-hugged doorframe. In the front garden, weeds had overtaken the plants, and then bigger weeds had overtaken the weeds. What kind of gardener let that happen in her own front yard? What did that say about her?

  Nothing. It didn’t have to say anything about her or the person she’d become. Since she’d left Archi. Because of him.

  Paddington knocked and Lisa shouted that it was open. With a deep breath, Paddington entered. The front room was lined with shelves, stands, and cabinets all overflowing with books and memorabilia. And over here, a shelf full of snow globes and a map of Europe being used as a pincushion. The house smelled of warm cookies and felt hotter than an oven.

  He followed the music and carefree singing to the back room, where he found a laptop. An actual laptop! The duke’s ban on technology meant Archians required a special licence to own a computer. Paddington’s many applications had all been rejected.

  Lisa had framed her licence, given it pride of place in her living room.

  What did that say about her?

  Paddington ambled around and found plants just outside the open back door. They stretched easily as far as the porch light, healthy and overflowing their pots. Right beside the door was a small mango tree that looked like it had recently been uprooted and beside that was a set of overalls with a garage logo on the left side. No prizes for guessing who they had belonged to.

  Dominic, a mechanic from the island’s south, was Lisa’s only other romantic entanglement since returning. Talk of the town, for a few days: a filthy Mainlander dating a purebred, hardworking, Church of Enanti-going Archian. But Dominic could never be the talk of the town for long; he was too easily pushed to the back of life’s queue.

  His friends consisted of a group of testosterone-fuelled men with more energy than outlets for it who spent their evenings drinking too much and getting into fights. Paddington would call them a gang, except that the words “gang” and “Dominic” didn’t fit together in any sensible sentence.

  Paddington spotted Lisa’s reflection in the glass door and quickly looked from the overalls to the sprightly plants. “So,” he said, “why is the front garden…”

  “Awful?” Her eyes were fierce but smiling, intelligent, knowing, very… unArchian. Paddington wanted to know those eyes. He wanted to get himself a set.

  Lisa shrugged. “Why give them pretty things if all they do is burn them? Besides, the lynch mobs were getting inconvenient.”

  “Are they still using pitchforks?”

  “One used a forklift.”

  “How times change.”

  “Care for a tour?” Lisa asked, opening the door. “Don’t worry, I shan’t bore you to death.”

  Paddington followed her out. Lisa took a torch from beside the door and swung the beam around as Paddington pretended he knew what the plants were.

  “So, what do you do with all these?” he asked.

  “Grow them, then ship them off. Well, that’s the plan. These I cleared from the Garden of Terpo.”

  “They let you remove plants from the city garden?” Paddington asked. When was the last time that had happened?

  “They hired me,” she said. “Keeps me out of sight.”

  “And you ship them off once a year?”

  “I have an arrangement with Charlie,” Lisa said. “Once a month he fishes in a certain spot; a boat from the Mainland turns up; everyone wins.”

  Paddington wished his first thought wasn’t about whether that was legal. The Embargo was ridiculous anyway; what did it matter? And why was he thinking about work now?

  “Relax, Jim,” Lisa said. “The Embargo only prohibits transporting people. I checked.”

  “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” Paddington puffed out his chest mock-heroically, but Lisa walked faster, shoulders curled inward. Was she remembering the last time she’d trusted him?

  “Is it worth the effort?” he asked, touching a dumpy bush with clusters of lavender flowers. “How much could this go for?”

  Lisa brought the torch around. “Nepeta Dynatos… about two thousand pounds.”

  “Two thousand!” Paddington carefully retracted his hand. “But these aren’t rare.”

  “Not on Archi, but we have a number of varieties not found on the Mainland.”

  Paddington glanced at the endless foliage surrounding them. They had to be worth millions.

  “Shall we go?” she asked. “Or do you have more questions, officer?”

  There was more than playfulness in her words. Even as schoolchildren, outcasts together, Lisa had seen the real him. She knew that, unless she stopped him right now, he’d keep thinking like a policeman all night, all week, all relationship. All his life. And she was telling him she didn’t want that.

  For the first time in years, Paddington found that he didn’t either.

  He had something better to be than a bobby.