Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 100, Nos. 4 & 5. Whole Nos. 603 & 604, October 1992

Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 100, Nos. 4 & 5. Whole Nos. 603 & 604, October 1992

The Man Who Ate People by Peter Lovesey

1991’s EQMM Readers Award winner, Peter Lovesey, is the author of eighteen novels, including the historical series featuring Sergeant Cribb, a Victorian sleuth whose further adventures were chronicled in a television series shown in the U.S. on PBS’s Mystery. The author is also adept at capturing the social milieu of our own day, as we can see in this story of a group of school children with a summer vacation before them and a restless need for adventure...

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No one knew the girl. She turned up at the rec one Friday morning in the summer holiday when the hard lads from Class 5 were doing nothing except keeping the younger kids from using the swings. Gary and Clive were taking turns at smoking a cigarette. Podge Mahoney was trying to mend a faulty wheel on his skateboard. Daley Hughes and his brother Morgan were on the swings — not using them in the conventional way, which would have been soft, but twisting them so that the chains entwined. The rest of the bunch, including Mitch — by common consent the most mature — lounged on the grass talking about the bikes they wanted to possess.

None of the girls from Class 5 ventured anywhere near. This incautious miss strolled up to the unoccupied swing, backed against it to push off and started swinging, her eyes focussed far ahead, excluding the lads from her vision. Thin, pale-skinned, with a straw-coloured ponytail, she was in black jeans and a white T-shirt.

Several heads turned towards Mitch for a lead. Mitch possessed the coveted first floss of a moustache and he generally spoke for all of them if required. He leaned back on his elbows and said, “Someone wants a swing. Give ’em some help.”

Paul, the boy Mitch had addressed, said, “Come on,” to Clive. The pair got behind the girl on the swing, waited for it to come to them, tucked their fingers over the seat and heaved it forward. When it had soared high and swung back, they gave it another push, straining high to catch it at the peak. The rest of the lads chorused support with a rising “Wooooo!”

Against expectations, the girl didn’t scream. Indeed, as the swing soared to the high point of its arc, almost level with the crossbar, she brought her knees up to her chest to secure a footing. Then she braced and stood upright — an acrobatic feat that few, if any, of the watchers would have essayed.

The ironwork groaned. Paul and Clive stepped out of range, for the girl was imparting her own momentum to the swing, hoisting it still higher by getting leverage bending her knees and virtually kicking the seat upwards. She looked capable of going right over the top. She was fearless. The mocking chorus had already died in the throats of the watchers. The girl kept the display going for long enough to demonstrate that she was doing it from choice. When at length she signalled the end of the ride by straightening on the swing, making herself a dead weight, there was an awed silence. After the swing was still again, she remained standing on the seat, arms folded, only her left shoulder lodged against the chain to keep her balanced.

“What’s your name?” Podge Mahoney asked. He’d given up fiddling with his skateboard.

“Danny.”

“That’s a boy’s name.”

“Danielle.” She made it sound like Daniel.

“What school?”

“Grantley.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s a private boarding school.”

Roger, who was a good mimic, repeated the statement in the accent of the private boarding school.

The girl was undeterred. “What are your plans for today? What are you going to do?”

“Nothing much,” said Podge.

“That’s our business,” Mitch said, sensing that the girl was trying to gatecrash.

“Mind if I join in?” Danny asked.

“Course we mind,” said Mitch. “Piss off.”

“I can get cigarettes.”

“Fags?” said Clive. “You can get fags?”

“We wouldn’t take bribes,” said Mitch, and several faces fell.

“What are you, a gang, or something?”

“No,” said Mitch, who was known, and respected, for the honesty of his statements.

“I want to join.”

“Don’t be so dumb.”

Clive added, “Find some girls to play with.”

She shifted her position on the swing just a fraction and braced her legs, imparting a shudder to the structure. “Who’s going to make me?”

No one answered. Podge walked across to his skateboard and started taking an interest in the wheels again.