The Left Foot

This week's Prompt: Member of the Family, Village, Something Untoward.

Over the last few weeks, men of a certain age had gone missing from a small village in Lancashire, and most of the villagers had their suspicions, but nothing concrete had been found. It was one of those villages where everyone knew everyone’s business. Due to the missing persons, Sky News, BBC, and ITV had set up operations in the COOP car park, and the local newspaper was offering a reward for any information. The Police were asking people to be vigilant, especially men between the ages of twenty and thirty, instructing them to let someone know where they were going and when they arrived, and to report anything suspicious.

PC Smyth was three weeks out of the academy, and he wanted to catch the person or persons involved. He had come from a long line of Police men; three generations of his family had policed the streets of Gold Ridge.

Twenty-four hours earlier, on the seventeenth day after the first person was reported missing, a call came into the police station reporting that a male, aged twenty-five, with blonde hair, six feet tall, of medium build, and with several tattoos on his body, had not returned home from his workplace, “Gold Ridge Ink.” Some of his friends had traced the route from the shop to his house, but to no avail. PC Smyth was on duty; he punched his fist in the air when his sergeant asked him to get a statement from the missing man's wife. Upon arriving at the address, he was shown in by the wife’s brother. He asked all the right questions, reverting to his training, inquiring if they knew of any person or persons who might want to hurt Denzel. He finished by showing he empathised with the situation. Before leaving, he asked if he could take a recent photograph, and he was supplied with one just three days prior.

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  Jamie had just got home from college. He put his rucksack in the front room. he noticed the big light was on, so he turned it off and went looking for his dad,

“Dad, have you seen the news?” Jamie shouted upstairs. Standing in the hallway.

“Yes, what part are you talking about?” His dad shouted down after flushing the toilet.

“Another body has been found, and whoever did it chopped off the left foot again”

Jamie's Dad came running down the stairs, nearly tripping over one of the dog toys. “That bloody dog,” he grumbled.

“Look,” Jamie pointed to the Television, “That’s ten now, all with the left foot missing”

“What do you think he’s doing with them?” His dad said, settling into his favourite chair.

“I don't know,” Jamie replied with a look of disgust on his face. Anyway, I’m off to see Gran. I'll see you later.” Jamie left by the back door through the yard and onto the Alleyway between the two rows of houses. On reaching his grandmother’s house, he opened the back gate and entered the yard. He sniffed up. “God, what's she cooking now?” he asked himself.

“Gran,” he shouted, “It's only me” He opened the back door. “It stinks in here,” he said, holding his nose as he entered. “Gran, are you there?” The door to the cellar was ajar; he pried it open and looked down into the darkness. He could hear noises coming from below. He crept down the stairs one at a time; the smell was getting stronger. Still holding his nose as he reached the bottom, he saw his Gran standing in front of a large pot on a gas burner. “Gran,” he shouted.

Turning around, unaware that her Grandson was watching her, she dropped what she had in her hand. It was a foot. A Left foot.

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Later that day, PC Smyth returned to the station with a photo of Denzel Stockbridge. He briefed his sergeant (Oh, I forgot to mention he was also his father), who then asked him to input all the information onto the computer. The young PC was eager to go out searching, but his sergeant told him they had to keep everything documented. He read all the statements that had been processed; he had a photographic memory, so he knew every word on every page. At ten thirty, his shift was over; he could still feel the urge to go looking for Denzel. Starting at the last place Denzel was seen, his workplace, PC Smyth closed his eyes and remembered the first statement: “Denzel locked up the shop, walked down the high street, and into the Blind Pig, the only public house in Gold Ridge.” Three independent witnesses corroborated this. At ten thirty, he left the Blind Pig to walk the one mile to the home he shared with his wife, Belinda.

PC Smyth walked the mile, noting all the doorbell cameras and making a note to check the petrol station to see if their cameras picked anything up. Standing outside Denzel’s house, he stopped and reflected for a moment, then did the walk in reverse. Stopping at the corner of Read Street and Balls Lane, he noticed two apples on the ground; he took a photograph of them on his phone, then took out an evidence bag, picked up the apples, placed them inside, and sealed the bag. He then walked back to the Blind Pig. It was now past midnight, so he went home to sleep and think.

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“Gran, what the hell?” Jamie shouted.

She turned around in fright, “Jamie, Oh Jamie,” she dropped the lid on the pan.

Walking towards her in a state of shock, arms wide open, “Gran, what the hell?”

“Oh dear, I can explain,” she picked up a hammer, “But first,” she swung the hammer around, hitting him on the side of his head, and he fell in a lump.

Waking sometime later, he had a gag in his mouth and his arms and legs were tied to a chair. “Gran,” he shouted, but because of the gag, it came out “Hamm” he tried again, but she wasn’t there. He wriggled his hands, and soon the knots became loose. His Gran had gone upstairs after hearing a banging sound, then someone shouting. Loosening his hands, he soon had his legs free. Feeling for his phone, he couldn't find it. Then he saw it smashed on the floor. Looking around his grandma's basement, he was shocked.

Bringing his hand to his mouth, he saw four rows of shelves on which were Jars, some filled with liquid, that held eyes. One had hands; one just had fingers. A large jar on a table had the head of a young man with blonde hair and a tattoo running up his face. To his right were three chest freezers. Reluctantly, he opened one; it had arms and legs. The next one had feet, just the right ones. Jamie was going to be sick, but he kept it in. Turning towards the stairs, he found more jars with more body parts. He recognised some of the parts, and he said them out as he walked past to the stairs. “Heart, Liver, Kidneys, Brains,” he then put both his hands between his legs as he saw a jar full of testicles.

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On returning to work, PC Smyth found someone had already collated all the doorbell footage and more statements, so he sat down to read. Watching the footage, he could see Denzel come out of the public house. He staggered, gained his balance then carried on walking. The Young PC opened up the next clip, this was the house at the junction with Balls Lane, An old lady was struggling with her shopping, one of the plastic bags burst open and all her purchases had spilled out over the road, Denzel made a gesture to help, bending down he picked up some apples and pears but in his drunken state they went everywhere but the new shopping bag the old lady had produced. The Next clip he opened was of them both walking down Balls Lane, they went out of view, then nothing.

He opened all the other clips, and he was nowhere to be seen. His thoughts were. ‘Find the old lady, find Denzel.’ He printed off some pictures of the old lady and pocketed them. After the midday brief, he was tasked if finding the old lady plus checking on a strange smell coming from the basement of 59 Balls Lane.

Turning right off Read Street onto Balls Lane, PC Smyth noticed a man on a mobility scooter was coming down, “Excuse me, Sir,” he asked. The man kept his head down and drove off.

Counting down the numbers, he arrived at number fifty-seven; he decided to knock on the door. An octogenarian came to the door but didn’t open it.

“HELLO,” she shouted from the other side.

“Hi, this is the Police. I’ve come about the smell”

“SMELL, WHAT SMELL?” she shouted through the door,

“There's been a report about a bad smell coming from your basement. Can you open the door?”

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Jamie’s Gran opened her front door, “What’s all this noise?” she inquired,

“Hello, Ma’am, I am PC Smyth,” he said from the next door's path, “I am here about the smell, could I come in and have a chat?” he then recognised her as the old lady in the photograph with Denzel Stockbridge. As she turned, he noticed she had blood all over her top and a blood-stained hammer in her right hand.

She turned around, slamming the door behind her. She had gone.

“Control, control, this is PC 3535,” Smyth shouted down his radio.

“Go ahead, PC 3535, this is control”, a WPC answered.

“I need backup, I need an Armed response, I need a helicopter”

“Calm down, Daniel,” the Sergeant said over the radio, “What have you got yourself into”?

“Dad… Sorry, Sergeant Smyth, I think I’ve found the last person to see Denzel Stockbridge, and she’s covered in blood and has a bloodied hammer in her hand”

“OK, Daniel, tell Sylvia where you are, and I will come. DO NOT ENTER THE PROPERTY.

PC Smyth re-laid all he knew to Sylvia and waited.

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At the bottom of the stairs, Jamie flicked on the light and walked up. “Gran, gran,” he shouted.

She came down the stairs fast, the flat side of the hammer hitting square between the eyes, knocking the young lad backwards, “God, what am I going to do?” she mumbled to herself. “Well, what can I do?” Gran opened a packet of cigarettes, lit one, leant against the wall and sucked in a full lung of air.

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Outside, Sergeant Smyth pulled up outside fifty-seven Balls Lane to his waiting Son, “Right, start from the beginning,”

PC Smyth explained about the doorbell footage, the apples, about Denzel stopping to help her, then the report of the smell from behind these properties. Then, when the old lady, who he now knew her name was Doris Shuttleworth, came out with blood all over her, “We need to get in,” he said to his dad.

Sirens could be heard coming through the village, as the blue lights lit up the street, several neighbours had come out to see what all the fuss was about. Two cars holding six officers stopped. “Right,” the sergeant said, “get these lot back up the street” he pointed to one officer, “You round the back,” then to another officer holding a big red metal bar, they had several names for it, he called it the ‘Denver Boot.’ “You with me.” The Sergeant banged on the door with his night stick, “Doris Shuttleworth, this is the police, open the door” No answer came.

“Doris Shuttleworth, this is the Police. if you do not open the door, we will come in by force” He looked at his officer, “Jacob, are you in position” he called on his radio.

“Yes, Boss, in position,” came the reply.

“Right, hit it” The officer smashed the door where the lock was; it only took one hit, and it flew open. Three officers ran in, followed by Sergeant Smyth and PC Smyth. One ran upstairs, one into the front room, the third into the kitchen. “All Clear” was the response.

PC Smyth stood by the stairs leading to the cellar, “There's a light on down here, and a bloody awful smell coming up.”

“Hang on,” the office that used the Denver Boot stopped him from walking down, “Hello, is there anyone down there?”

Jamie had started to wake up when he heard someone shouting, “I’m down here, help, my Grans gone nuts, she hit me with a hammer” On hearing that Jamie had been hit, Sergeant Smyth had asked for an ambulance to attend.

The Officer, hearing she was armed with a hammer, took out his Taser, “Anyone in the basement, I have a taser and I am coming down, do you hear me?”

“I hear you,” Jamie shouted, “My Gran is leaning against the wall just staring into space”

“Ok, Son, I am coming down, keep your hands where I can see them and you’ll be OK, do you hear me”?

“Yes, I can hear you, my hands are up”

The Officer reached the basement to see jars full of body parts and a large pot on a gas burner with a foot bobbing about in the boiling water. Turning to his right, he saw Gran. “I have a taser, turn to me and put your hand up,” he shouted. She didn’t move. “I will tell you one more time, I HAVE A TASER, TURN TO ME AND PUT YOUR HAND UP”

Gran turned slowly, still holding the bloodied hammer, the officer shouted TASER, TASER, then pulled the trigger on his Police issue X26. Initially, it generates 50,000 volts to send the two barbs out of the taser and through any clothing the person may be wearing. Dropping to 1500 volts in short pulses.

Gran started to shake, dropping the hammer, then she fell, the 1500 volts making her body convulse. Jamie shouted, “Gran, what have you done?”

The officer released the trigger and walked over to Gran now lay on the cold concrete flooring. Sergeant Smyth, PC Smyth and two other officers, followed by a paramedic, came down the stairs. “What the hell,” the sergeant said, putting a handkerchief over his nose.

“I’m ok,” said Jamie to the paramedic, look after my Gran, that bastard shot her,” pointing to the large officer.

 Back at the Police Station, Sergeant Smyth had contacted the Independent Office for Police Conduct. Due to a death after the use of a taser. According to the medical examiner, Gran had had a heart attack. Was it before or during the taser attack; he wouldn’t be sure until a full autopsy. In all, twenty different human remains were found in the basement of fifty-nine Balls Lane, and they will never know why Gran had been obsessed with left feet.