The Dance of the Voodoo Handbag

10

Mrs Barnes gave it two weeks and then reported Billy's absence to the police. They sent round Inspector Kirby who had done courses in bereavement counselling and community relations. He had also done courses in stress management, positive thinking, actualization of the self, releasing the spirit within, neoistic post-modernism and macramГ©. He held a degree in Humanities and was qualified to teach hang-gliding and white water rafting. Exactly what he was doing in the police force was a mystery to both him and his mother.

Inspector Kirby rang the doorbell, but receiving no reply took himself round to the side of the house.

Mrs Barnes sat upon the veranda in her wicker chair. As it was a Thursday she was cross-dressed. Evening suit, dickie bow, patent pumps and a rather fetching Clark Gable moustache sketched in felt-tip pen beneath her nose.

'˜Madam?' said Inspector Kirby.

'˜How dare you!' said Billy's mum. '˜Does this look like a brothel?'

'˜No, madam. This looks like a mock-Tudor house. Circa 1933 and the work of the architect Klaus Bok, brother of the painter, Karl. Bok favoured the use of traditional materials, but was not averse to modern innovation, as can be seen in the window catches and guttering.' Inspector Kirby had also done '˜Architectural Styles of the Twentieth Century' in an Open University course.

'˜My husband was a great friend of Bok,' said Mrs Barnes. '˜Which was curious considering the disparity in their heights. My husband was very tall and Bok was positively dwarf-like.'

'˜Was he Welsh?'

'˜If he was, he kept it to himself. They could put you in prison for that, back in those days.'

'˜For being Welsh?'

'˜Oh, Welsh? I thought you said 'њraving homosexual'ќ.' Mrs Barnes put her head on one side and pounded her right ear with her fist. '˜I've a bit of carrot stuck in my left ear, you know how it is.'

Inspector Kirby nodded. '˜As much as you can eat for a flyer. So you get your head right into the salad bowl.'

'˜No,' said Mrs Barnes. '˜It's vomit.'

Inspector Kirby scratched at his knees.

'˜Your legs are extremely bowed,' Mrs Barnes observed. '˜Do you have your trousers specially tailored?'

'˜Only the ones I wear when I'm on duty.'

'˜And when you're off duty?'

'˜I normally wear a kilt.'

'˜Well, it's legal nowadays. Although it's still frowned upon in the armed services.

Inspector Kirby shook his head and gave his knees another scratch.

'˜That's why my husband left the country,' said Mrs Barnes. '˜Because of homosexuality. 'њMavis,'ќ he said to me, 'њtwo hundred years ago they hanged you for it, one hundred years ago they jailed you for it, thirty years ago they legalized it and I'm getting out before they make it compulsory.'ќ'˜

'˜It's regarding your son, Billy,' said Inspector Kirby.

'˜I wouldn't have thought he was your type.'

'˜He's not my type.'

'˜So what type do you prefer then?'

'˜I don't prefer any type. I'm not gay.'

'˜Don't knock it if you haven't tried it.'

'˜I wasn't knocking it.'

'˜Then you have tried it.'

'˜No, well, er, that is neither here nor there. I am here regarding your son's disappearance.'

'˜Come and sit down over here,' said Billy's mum. '˜Your legs are distracting me. It's like looking through a porthole.'

Inspector Kirby joined Mrs Barnes on the veranda. '˜When did you last see your son?' he asked, as he sat himself down.

'˜The Wednesday before the Wednesday before last.'

'˜And he said nothing to you about where he might be going.'

'˜He might have mentioned business elsewhere.

But I can't be certain. We've never been close, you see.'

'˜Does he miss his father, do you think?'

'˜He's never mentioned him.'

'˜Probably in denial,' said Inspector Kirby. '˜An inability to express outwardly feelings of loss and abandonment can often result in deep-seated psychological trauma. Introversion, bed-wetting, masturbation, voyeurism-'

'˜Homosexuality?' asked Mrs Barnes.

'˜No,' said Inspector Kirby. '˜I wasn't going to say homosexuality.'

'˜Well, you should say it. After all it's homosexuality that has raised us above the animals.'

'˜I don't think I quite follow that.'

'˜Well, you just think about it. What is it that elevates mankind? Makes it superior to the animal kingdom?'

'˜A more sophisticated brain, opposing thumbs, the ability to communicate through language-'

'˜At first, yes. But think about culture. Think about the arts. Think what homosexuals have contributed to the arts. How many artists, poets, writers, singers, musicians, composers, filmmakers, dancers, actors, clothes designers, set-dressers and hairdressers are homosexuals?'

'˜A very great many,' said Inspector Kirby.

'˜Exactly,' said Mrs Barnes. '˜They may not breed. But breeding is for the herd. The homosexual is one apart. He's different. An individual. The homosexual contributes to the quality of life.'

'˜You're quite right,' said Inspector Kirby. '˜I'd never thought about it like that before.'

'˜Everything in the gene pool is there for a purpose. And homosexuality is not an evolutionary hiccup or blind alley. It serves its purpose. Through the culture of the arts we are all ennobled. I always cross-dress on Thursdays as a personal tribute to homosexuals for all the joy they have brought to mankind.'

'˜Bravo,' said Inspector Kirby, clapping his hands. '˜It makes me proud to be gay.'

'˜Bravo!' agreed Mrs Barnes. '˜As so you should be. But tell me this.'

'˜What's that?'

'˜How come they let a shirt-lifter like you into the police force?'

Inspector Kirby stayed for lunch. As it was a Thursday they took lunch in the trophy room surrounded by the many curious artefacts Mr Barnes had brought back from his world wanderings.

'˜That's a whale's tooth,' said Mrs Barnes, in answer to the Inspector's question. '˜My husband pulled it from the jaw of the slain creature while on one of his many whaling voyages.'

'˜How very interesting,' the Inspector said.

They dined upon mince and slices of quince, which they ate with plastic forks, as the runcible spoons were away being cleaned.

'њWhat are the chances of finding my Billy?' asked his mum, munching loudly and rattling her plate about.

'˜Very good,' said the Inspector, examining his uncooked mince. '˜After all, we have yet to establish whether he is actually missing. You say he took a packed suitcase. It is most likely that he has just gone off for a while and will contact you shortly.'

'˜He's never gone off before.'

'˜He's twenty-three years of age, Mrs Barnes, perhaps he just wanted to get a bit of space. Spread his wings. Expand his horizons.'

'˜So you don't think he's in any danger, then?'

'˜Let us not be pessimistic without due cause.'

'˜Fine,' said Mrs Barnes. '˜Then let's forget all about him. If he turns up dead in a canal or something you can always give me a call, can't you?'

'˜Well yes, but I- Listen, do you'¦ I mean, are you all alone here now?'

'˜My mum lives with me. She's an invalid, she's upstairs.'

Now this was a lie and a deliberate one. Mrs Barnes had no intention of mentioning her mum's disappearance. Mrs Barnes collected her mum's pension every week and she needed the money for her Tuesday evening activities.

'˜I'd like to meet your mother,' said Inspector Kirby.

'˜She's asleep. Perhaps another time.'

'˜That would be nice. This really is a fascinating room, Mrs Barnes. A regular museum. That carved '˜cabinet on the mantelpiece, where did that come from?'

'˜Haiti. My grandfather was the governor there at the turn of the century. The cabinet is a reliquary, it holds the family's most precious possession.'

'˜Absolutely fascinating. And what is that, exactly?'

'˜A plaster cast of a voodoo handbag. The handbag of MaГ®tresse EzilГ©e, the Haitian incarnation of the Blessed Virgin Mary.'

'˜Incredible. I did a night school course on the occult a couple of years ago and we studied the voodoo pantheon. Papa Legba, AgouГ©, Loco and the rest. Isn't the handbag supposed to possess certain powers? Act as an oracle, or something?'

'˜They say it speaks, although I've never heard it. Billy said it used to speak to him, tell him stories.'

What kind of stories?'

'˜Tall ones, I think.'

'˜Fascinating,' said the Inspector. '˜Do you think I might see it?'

'˜Absolutely not!' Mrs Barnes bashed her big fists down upon the table. '˜Far too dangerous. The handbag is a transitus tessera. It can take you from the world of the living to the world of the angry dead.'

'˜You mean I might die if I saw it?'

'˜If you were to touch it you would die.'

'˜I see. Is it then, impregnated with some poison from the Amazon?'

'˜Possibly. But trust me, if you opened that cabinet and touched the voodoo handbag you'd die.'

'˜Incredible,' said Inspector Kirby. '˜Absolutely incredible.'

'˜I suppose so.' Mrs Barnes shrugged noisily. '˜But you get used to things, don't you? And you learn by your mistakes.'

'˜Indeed.'

The telephone began to ring.

'˜That might be your Billy,' said Inspector Kirby.

'˜No, that's not his ring.' Mrs Barnes forked up some quince and gobbled it down.

'˜Aren't you going to answer it?'

'˜It will stop ringing eventually, it always does.'

'˜It might be for me.'

'˜Oh, all right!' Mrs Barnes flung her fork aside, rose rowdily and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

What a very loud woman,' said Inspector Kirby, pushing his plate aside. '˜A voodoo handbag, eh?' His gaze wandered over to the cabinet on the mantelpiece. '˜How very fascinating.'

He sat awhile and pondered. Great shouts came from the hall. Mrs Barnes was in heated discussion on the telephone, but with whom it wasn't clear.

'˜I might just have a little peep,' said the Inspector, quietly to himself. '˜It couldn't do any harm, just a little peep.' He rose from the ottoman and glanced towards the hall door. More shouting. Inspector Kirby crept over to the mantelpiece.

Beside the cabinet lay a key. It was a brass key with a skull on it. A luggage label was attached to this key.

Inspector Kirby picked up the key and examined the label.

DO NOT USE THIS KEY TO UNLOCK RELIQUARY, he read. AWAKEN NOT THE ANGRY DEAD. Inspector Kirby whistled, then cocked an anxious ear. Further shouting came from the hall. Inspector Kirby dithered, but not a ditherer by persuasion he then thrust the key into the reliquary's key hole and turned it sharply to the left.

A click and the door swung ajar.

Inspector Kirby dithered anew. This was not a good idea. '˜Why was he doing it? He was a policeman, he couldn't just go opening up people's private cabinets. Well, of course, actually, he could. That was one of the benefits of being a policeman, being able to pry into people's private belongings. But what about all that stuff about dying if you touched the handbag? Superstition surely? Voodoo wasn't real. It was the power of suggestion. Like an Aborigine pointing the bone at you. You didn't die if you didn't believe. Awaken not the angry dead, indeed!

A quick peep, then lock the cabinet up again. '˜What harm could that possibly do?

Inspector Kirby swung open the door.

And then took a swift step backwards.

Something moved. Inside the cabinet. Something white. It had jerked as he opened the door, and now it was moving. Squirming.

Inspector Kirby gaped at it, fascinated.

It was a handbag. '˜White, plaster cast or carved. But it was moving. There were skulls on it, many skulls. A large one in the middle, clearly human, but other smaller ones around and about that were anything but. And these were '¦ moving. They clicked their tiny jaw bones as if taking in the air. Yawning, breathing, and now snapping angrily.

Inspector Kirby didn't like the look of them one little bit. He stepped smartly forward to slam the door shut.

But as he did so he slipped upon the fireside rug and fell towards the grate. In a desperate attempt to save himself he snatched at the mantelpiece.

But missed.

And his right hand plunged into the cabinet.

Inspector Kirby awoke with a start to find Billy's mum smiling down at him.

'˜Don't try to move,' she said. '˜You had a bit of an accident, but you're all right now.'

Inspector Kirby did try to move, but he couldn't.

'˜You lost a couple of fingers,' said Billy's mum. '˜I've bandaged up the rest, so they should be OK for now.'

Inspector Kirby tried to speak. But he couldn't do that either.

'˜I've taped your jaw up,' said Billy's mum. '˜Don't want you making any noise now, do we?'

Inspector Kirby strained and struggled but to no avail. Billy's mum stroked his forehead. '˜Now don't go getting yourself all upset. I did warn you not to touch the handbag, didn't I? But you did touch it, so you only have yourself to blame. You see the handbag has to be fed every week and it was Billy's job to feed it. And Billy always fed it with bits of Granny. But Billy's taken Granny with him and the handbag's been getting really hungry. It needs fresh meat, you see. Fresh human meat.'

Inspector Kirby's eyes were starting from their sockets.

'˜It's lucky you happened by, really,' continued Billy's mum. '˜And most fortuitous that the telephone rang. It was one of your superiors asking after you. I told them that you'd just left and I'd seen you getting into an old VW Camper van. So I don't think they'll come bothering us again.'

Inspector Kirby shook and shivered.

Billy's mum covered him up with an old dog blanket. '˜I've put you inside this portmanteau,' she said, '˜because Billy took Granny's suitcase, but you probably would have found it a bit cramped in there. There's air holes in the lid, so it's not cruel or anything. And I've taken the liberty of injecting you with a special drug from the Amazon. It slows down the metabolism so you'll only need feeding about once a week. So I can do that when I come for another finger. So that's perfect, isn't it?'

And so saying Mrs Barnes closed the lid of the portmanteau, locked it and pushed it under her bed.

And then she went down for her supper.