The Taint Rises

The Taint Rises

They say everyone who looks into their family history will find a secret, eventually. I had always thought that didn’t apply to my family. They were all far too dull, too prim and proper to have any interesting secrets. 

Then someone killed my granddad’s dog. 

We found Rufus in the garden, eyes wide, blood and foam running from his mouth. He was cold and hard to the touch. Granddad had lifted him up, cradling the small dog in his big-knuckled hands. Watching my grandfather like that reminded me of when grandma had been dying. She had been so frail towards the end, a collection of bird bones cradled by Granddad’s gentle, powerful hands. 

We buried Rufus behind the house, near the rosebushes. 

A few days passed, then someone started defacing his car. Great long scratches appeared down the side, more and more every day. Then the following week the tyres were cut, then a few days later the windscreen broken.

Someone was targeting granddad.

***

“So, you won’t be sending officers over?” Mum, on granddad’s phone, sounded defeated. 

“I told you they wouldn’t.” Granddad folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in the old armchair. “You’re wasting their time with this nonsense.” 

“It’s not nonsense.” I stood up from the sofa and walked to the window, peering out around the curtains. “Someone’s got it in for you.” 

“It is nonsense.” Granddad glared at mum. “Hang up, Lydia.” I glanced at mum who thanked the person on the end of the phone and hung up. Mum never argued with granddad. 

“You know.” Mum handed the phone back to granddad. “I think we should go, if you’re sure it’s nothing to worry about then-”

“I’m sure.” Granddad took a long look at mum’s dejected face. “I’ll call you later if that’ll make you feel better.” 

“Thanks dad.” Mum smiled and hugged him. I followed behind her as we walked to her car, glancing back to see Granddad watching us go, his face neutral. 

“I’d have thought he’d be going up the wall,” I said when mum pulled away. “I remember just brushing against his car when I was little and him screaming at me.” 

“Yes, well.” Mum coughed. “Honey, he’s old, and he cares too much about what people think.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“I don’t expect you to understand, but when your grandfather was younger, you simply didn’t make waves. You put on this perfect front no matter what was happening. Having the police come around, even if you were the victim of a crime, well, it just wasn’t the done thing.” 

“So, he’s letting someone kill his dog and destroy his property because he doesn’t want the neighbours seeing he’s in trouble?”

“We don’t know that someone killed Rufus.” Mum’s tone suggested she didn’t believe what she was saying. 

“Rufus wasn’t old, he wasn’t sick, some asshole poisoned him. You saw all that foam around his mouth.” I slumped back in the passenger seat.

“Or he ate something that he shouldn’t have,” Mum said.

“Same difference. It’s not like granddad grows hemlock or chocolate.” Mum let out a loud sigh. “You were on the phone to the police; you can’t pretend you don’t think someone’s got it in for granddad.” 

“You spend too much time in stories. Television, books, videogames, they all make life out to be more interesting than it really is.” I said nothing. This was mum’s default argument. Her fall back. If I ever had an opinion that went against her own, it was all television’s fault. It was pointless arguing at this point. This was mum saying she didn’t want to talk about it.

***

I went back to granddad the following weekend. 

The roses were dead. 

Not just dead, burned. The ground and grass around them were black. When I arrived, granddad was pulling up what they left of the burnt plants. 

“Oh, Granddad.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” 

“No matter,” he grunted, like he hadn’t spent years pridefully fussing over the plants. “This batch was going bad anyway, more sickness and pests than actual plants.” 

“What are you talking about? You won the-” 

“I said they were going bad, anyway.” His shoulders slumped as I fell silent at his sharp tone. I turned away and pick up a shovel. I started digging out the plant next to granddad. He said nothing, and we worked quietly together. 

“I know you don’t want to involve the authorities,” I whispered after a while. “But you shouldn’t worry about what people think. You’re a nice guy and some asshole is targeting you for this bullshit. Your neighbours would be behind you.” Granddad grunted but said nothing. “The police might help.” 

“Police aint no help. A man always has to be his own justice.” 

“You can’t deal with this on your own.” I stopped digging and caught my breath, wiping sweat from my head. 

“You want me to to go to the police?” Granddad also stopped digging. Standing up straight, he towered over me, despite his age. “With what, a story about a scratched car and some burnt up plants?” 

“O.K.,” I said. Granddad frowned like he had expected me to argue. “You need evidence. We should get you some home security cameras. No police, nothing big or flashy, just some very discrete cameras. We’ll set them up all around the house.” Granddad stared at me for a long moment, his eyes sharp. I felt fresh sweat bead out across the back of my neck. Eventually, he sighed and dropped his gaze.

“This would make you and your mother stop worrying?” I nodded. “Fine.” 

“I’ll get Brian to sort it all for you. We can use his friends and family discount.” I smiled; Granddad’s gaze sharpened. 

“I’m no charity case.” 

“Why pay more than you have to?” My phone was already in hand, texting Brian. 

“And I don’t want the company logo flashing about!” Granddad snapped. 

“Out of work hours, I’ll even get him to use my car, not his work van.” Granddad nodded slowly; his displeasure visible in the lines on his face. 

We went back to work, pulling up the burnt roses. It took us well into the evening to finish the task. At Granddad’s insistence “a woman shouldn’t drive alone at night,” I agreed to stay the night and excused myself after dinner to the bathroom to soak my aching back. When I emerged, wrapped in grandma’s old terrycloth bathrobe, granddad had fallen asleep in front of the television. I smiled and headed into the kitchen to make some tea before bed. 

I was rinsing out a cup at the sink when I saw someone in the garden. Tall and in shadow, a flashlight in hand. Without thinking, I dropped the cup. It clattered into the sink but didn’t break. I ran to the back door, pulling it open. I heard Granddad snort awake behind me as I ran out onto the grass.

“Hey!” I yelled.

But the garden was empty. The figure was gone.

“Amelia!” Granddad’s big hand closed on my shoulder, pulling me back. 

“I saw someone. There was someone in the garden.” 

“Come inside, your hairs soaking, you’ll catch your death.” Granddad pulled harder, and I turned, obeying and heading back into the house. 

“We should call-” I started.

“No one,” Granddad snapped. “You saw nothing, just shadows in the trees.” 

“He had a flashlight.” I jerked out from his hand on my shoulder. How could he be so blase? How could he not be worried? He turned to look out the kitchen window, staring out at the dark garden.

“That’s enough!” He was gripping the side of the sink, his knuckles white with strain. “You can’t have seen anyone; it was too dark. Go to bed.” I nodded and headed upstairs to the guest room.

***

The morning brought the sound of children laughing. 

Pulling myself out of bed and back into grandma’s robe, I yawned all the way downstairs. The front door was open. Granddad was in the front garden with some of the neighbourhood children. In his arms, he held a puppy. 

“Rachel’s dog had pups.” He smiled when he saw me watching. “I called her last night to see if any were still available.” 

“Any idea what you’ll name him?” 

“The fine young men here were helping me decide.” Granddad gestured to the small group of children currently playing with his new puppy. “At the moment, the choice is Frank, Dennis or Ultron.” 

“Hmmm.” I pretended to think. “Ultron is a clear winner here, I think.” Granddad sighed. 

“Well, good thing this house isn’t a democracy.” 

“Spoilsport.” I pulled the robe tighter around myself. “I’m making tea. Do you want some?” 

“I thought I’d do some bacon.” 

“I’d love some, but I need to head home. I‘m on the lunch shift today.” 

“Then tea would be nice.” Granddad went and picked up the puppy, much to the children’s disappointment, and followed me into the house. 
Driving back home, I struggled with the idea that someone could hate my granddad. This 76-year-old man who adopted puppies and played with the local kids like they were his own. Something was going wrong somewhere that he was being targeted like this. 

***

“Didn’t you used to be afraid of him when you were little?” Brian said as we watched Granddad head out on an evening walk with the puppy, now named Dennis, and several of the local kids who were still thrilled to have a new puppy to readily available. 

We’d come over to install the new security system after getting its priority ordered much to granddads disapproval. 

“Yeah, well, he’s not a small man even now. He was enormous, tall, broad shouldered, and he’d yell at me when I got out of line. Of course, I was scared.” 

“You say that like it’s normal.” Brian started up the ladder, screwdriver in his teeth, camera in hand. “I was never afraid of my relatives.” 

“Maybe you were braver than I was.” I handed him up screws one at a time as he started fixing the camera in place. 

“Doubtful. I feared frogs.” 

“What does it matter that I feared him when I was little? I highly doubt that’s the reason he’d being targeted now.” I glared at the back of Brian’s head. 

“I’m just saying.” He wobbled on the ladder as he tightened a screw in place. “That you don’t know everything about him. He’s a secretive old guy. Maybe something happened a while ago.” 

“You’re saying he must have done something to have someone do this to him?” I couldn’t keep the sharpness from my tone. “Victim blaming much.” 

“I’m not saying he deserves this.” Brian turned to glance down at me. “I’m just saying… hell, I don’t know what I’m saying.” 

“I know what you’re saying,” I said. “You’ve been watching too many movies where the kindly old man at the end of the road turns out to be an ex-Nazi.

“It was one film.” Brian came down the ladder. “And it was great. Now, where do you want the next one?” 

We spent the next couple of hours putting up cameras and setting the system up on Granddad’s ancient computer. We also put the app on Brian’s and my phone, just as a backup, mind you, as I strongly suspected Granddad would never check the footage. 

***

The next three days were quiet. I suspected that whoever was doing this to granddad was someone in his cul-de-sac, someone who had seen us put up the cameras. While we hadn’t hidden the cameras, they weren’t exactly obvious. Small black boxes dotted around the outside of the house. Someone knew they were there. 

But on the fourth day they showed that cameras or not, they would not stop harassing an old man. 

I got the alert at 2am, my phone beeped, the notification read “Motion Detected”. Then again, a few minutes later, another notification “Motion Detected” and another, and another. By the fourth notification, I was awake. 

I opened the app to see someone well covered in black clothing, hood pulled up over their head, scarf wrapped around their face. They were in the driveway, and they were hurling paint at the house, car and garden. 

I called Granddad. 

“He’s outside right now,” I said. Granddad picked up the phone. I got a confused sounding grunt as a response. “The person who’s harassing you, they're outside now, call the police.” 

“I’m not calling the police.” Granddad suddenly sounded very awake. 

“If you don’t, I will,” I said firmly.

“You will not, young lady.” 

“He’s hurling paint at the house!” 

“I’m not going to die from some paint. The police have bigger problems to worry about.” 

“Uhh, Ami.” Brian shook my shoulder. “If he doesn’t want the police called, then let him be. We can deal with this in the morning.” 

“What!” I snapped. 

“The guy is gone.” Brian held up his phone, showing all clear on the cameras. His face was white, his eyes wide, he looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Is that Brian?” Granddad said. I swallowed the lump in my throat. 

“Yeah, the footage shows the guy is gone.” 

“Fine, see, it would have been a waste of police time.” I heard the hesitation in his voice. “I’ll call you in the morning, alright?” 

“Yes.” I was looking at Brian, leaning over his phone, frantically replaying bits of footage. Granddad hung up the phone, and I went back into the app, trying to find what Brian had seen that had worried him. But all I saw was a grown man, covered head to toe, hurling paint at my granddad’s property. 

“I’m taking this to the police tomorrow.” 

“Hang on.” Brian reached out, putting a hand on my wrist. I lowered my phone and looked at him. 

“What?” 

“I… I think I know who this is.” 

“What!” I couldn’t help the sudden volume to my voice, or the high pitch. My entire body went cold and hard at his words. “Wait, how? You can’t see them. How could you know?” 

“I think I recognise his build and… and there’s been some other stuff. It didn’t seem like anything at the time, but now, now I think it makes sense.” 

“Explain fast.” I reached over and turned on the bedside lamp so I could better see Brian’s face. Brian took a deep breath and looked away from me, down into his lap. 

“A couple of months ago, we got a new supervisor, Bill. I remember think it was odd because he had the same surname as you and it’s not super common so I used it as small talk, a way to get to know the guy.” Brian fidgeted, his hands rubbing against each other quickly. I nodded; my surname was Beaufoy, not entirely unique but not common either. Granddad had the same surname; mum had never married after I was born and my dad wasn’t in the picture so we were all a bunch of Beaufoys. 

“Ok and?” 

“He was really into it.” Brian glanced at me before looking away quickly. “Really into it, like thrilled to know someone local had the same name, kept asking all kinds of questions, who you were, was the name from your mother’s side or your dad’s side, nothing to weird but still kinda invasive.” He shrugged. “Like I said, I didn’t think much of it at the time other than the guy was odd.”  

“But,” I coaxed. 

“Now his interest seems kinda sinister, especially as he has the same build and height as the guy on the footage.” 

“Fine.” I leaned back. “So, when I go to the police, I have a name I can give them.” Brian turned to face me so fast I think he gave himself whiplash. 

“No wait! I don’t want to get him in trouble if it’s not him. It could just be coincidence.” 

“So, you’re suggesting what, exactly?” 

“Tomorrow, before we go to the police, we talk to Bill, ask him some questions. If it still seems sketchy, then we can go to the police, give them the footage, and tell them about Bill.” 

I let out a slow breath. On one hand, if this Bill guy was the guy on the footage, I wanted to string him up. I was also suspicious that Brian wasn’t telling me everything. An interest in a surname isn’t exactly a lot to go on, and Brian was not the type to jump to conclusions. Bill must have done or said something to make Brian think so. But if he was innocent, then it would just be a waste of time name dropping him, and the police might not take us seriously if we found someone else who was to blame. 

“Ok,” I said eventually. “I won’t jump to conclusions, but we’ll talk to Bill tomorrow and if I’m even a little suspicious, then I’m going to the police.” 

“Alright.” Brian smiled at me. “Thank you.” 

***

I expected to feel something when I saw Bill. I expected some little voice in my head to scream “That’s the guy!” but when I saw him, I felt nothing. He was decidedly average, not tall, not broad, probably in his mid too late 50s. He was just a guy. I wouldn’t give him a second look passing him in the street. He did not give off the vibe of someone who harasses old men. 

But then I remembered that victims of violent crimes who survived often said they never expected it off the person. One of the common things said about serial killers by the people who knew them was that you never suspected them. With that in mind, I tried to keep my thoughts in order and not let what I saw in front of me affect me. I also reminded myself that I had no proof that Bill was the culprit either, so I had to be fair. 

Fortunately, fair doesn’t mean nice. 

“I don’t have time to mess about,” I said when Bill let us into his office. “Do you know my granddad?” I ignored Brian, who I could see out of the corner of my eye. He would have been softer, but I was determined to be taken seriously. 

“Um depends.” Bill smiled. “Who’s your granddad?” 

“Michael Beaufoy.” 

Bill’s face fell, and he was quiet for a moment. His shoulders slumped, and he collapsed into his chair behind the overcrowded desk. 

“Ahh,” he said eventually. “Please take a seat.” He gestured to two seats in front of the desk. “Can I get you some coffee?” 

“Do you know my granddad?” I said again, firmer this time, louder. 

“Better than you do, I think.” I hid my surprise at Bill’s answer, biting my tongue to stop myself from blurting anything out. Bill had admitted nothing yet. After all, it wasn’t illegal to know someone. 

“I doubt that.” My throat was bone dry. My voice, which I wanted to be commanding, came out as a croak. 

“He’s not what you think, the white picket fence, the house, the dog… it’s all bullshit.” I saw Brian go rigid beside me. “Sorry, for the language I just…” he trailed off. 

“How do you know him?” Brian said. Bill looked at me, his small, round face flushing red. 

“I’ve been looking for him actually,” he said and I felt something in my go cold. 

“Why?” I snapped. “What is he to you?” Bill gave me a long look, as if he was thinking about what he wanted to tell me. I could practically hear him thinking. Emotion flitted across his face as he glanced up and met my eyes. I had to stop myself from flinching. His eyes looked wet like he was on the verge of tears. He coughed, looking away, pulling himself together. 

“I promised myself that when I met you, I would be honest.” He opened a drawer and pulled out an old and very battered file. “I don’t expect you to believe me. After all, who am I to you, you don’t know me.” He put the file down on the desk in front of him. 

“Bill?” Brian said. 

“Sorry, I just, I had this big speech in my head but I wasn’t expecting you too… well, it doesn’t matter now, I should just be clear.” He took a deep breath. “I’m your uncle, Amelia.” 

The world stopped moving. Everything froze. I swear I could see the dust microbes hanging static in the air. 

My uncle? 

I had an uncle? 

“I know your granddad because he’s my dad.” Bill’s words were laced with venom. It sounded like he struggled to get them out, like they stuck in his throat. “Though he doesn’t deserve that title.” 

“But what, I mean why, why didn’t we know about you?” I spluttered. Bill laughed. 

“I’m not surprised he said nothing. I bet he kept us all to himself, a dirty secret.” 

“Wait, the old boy had an affair?” Brain sounded aghast. Bill laughed again, a cruel, hollow sound. 

“No, no, I was born long before your mother was even a twinkle in his eye.” He sounded like he was going to spit. “I know I just said I would be honest with you, and I will be, but I need you to understand how difficult this is. That is why I was going to send this.” He pushed the file over to me. “To your mum, but every time I tried, I always stopped. Coward. I knew I could never talk about it, not without embarrassing myself. I want you to read this file. But I warn you, you will not like it.” 

I lifted the file. Bill reached out to me, but I jerked backwards. 

“You alright?” Brian put a hand on my shoulder. I nodded and stood up.

“I know it’s you.” I glared at Bill. “You killed Rufus, you burned the garden and damaged the car. We have evidence of you last night with the paint.” 

Bill didn’t react to my words. I clutched the file tighter.

“Come on.” Brian gently steered me towards the door. “Let’s go home.” 

“I’m going to the police.” I spat. Bill shook his head.

“I won’t stop you,” he muttered. “I’ve already sent a copy of the file to the police this morning.” 

***

I read the file. 

Then I showed the file to mum. 

I told her about Bill, about what he was claiming, and together we looked at the papers. 

The file comprised a myriad of papers. There were legal documents, newspaper clippings, hospital records, and personal photographs. The file told a story of a young man who met a woman. Her name was Denise. She was beautiful, a blonde bombshell. She reminded me of Twiggy, right down to the dresses she wore. All glamour and style and confidence. It oozed out of her even in the old pictures. 

There was a birth certificate for a William Beaufoy listing Denise Williams as the mother and Michael Beaufoy as the father. There was a marriage certificate date one month before the birth. So, they must have been seeing each other and fallen pregnant unexpectedly. I wondered if they ever intended to marry before the pregnancy or if it was something they felt they had to do.

There weren’t many photos, but in the few before she feels pregnant, both Denise and Granddad looked happy. The wedding pictures had Denise looking happy. Granddad was solum faced, but that was what he was like. They announced the wedding in the local paper, of which there was a cutting. 

It wasn’t a perfect story, but it wasn’t anything outrageous either. I wondered to myself what must have happened to Granddad for him to abandon this family? I assumed that was what had happened. Why else would Bill be angry at him? Perhaps he succumbed to the pressure, a young man finding himself in a marriage he wasn’t expecting with a child. He wouldn’t be the first to scarper, leaving the girl alone to care for the baby. But granddad was so honourable, he was moral to a fault. Perhaps this was why he was so strict; did he leave them and feel bad for the rest of his life? 

But how had he married again if he was already married? Did they get divorced? 

I kept looking through the file and found later pictures. There was one that I think must have been taken shortly after Bill’s birth, where granddad looked downright miserable. Then a few of young Bill, some alone, some with his smiling mother or his solum faced father. I was growing more convinced that granddad had abandoned his first family. 

I grew more concerned when I found medical records for Denise littered in with the papers. She’d visited the minor injuries unit at a hospital. There were notes that seemed to say she wanted more children, but her husband was forcing her to take birth control. 

Then I found a couple of pictures where Denise wore large sunglasses, or held her hand up to her cheek in a way that didn’t look natural. Then more medical records showing more severe injuries, a broken finger here, a cut requiring stitches there. There were concerns raised by the doctors, but Denise denied anyone was hurting her. 

Bile rose in my throat, burning it when I turned the page and found x-rays showing a broken arm and several broken ribs. Was this granddad? Was he doing this? There were police photos showing Denise at the time of the injuries. Long gone was the glamourous woman in the early pictures. This woman was far too thin, sallow skinned, bruised and I swear I could see a hefty bald spot on her head. 

Again, she wouldn’t say how she got hurt. 

The hospital records continued, making up the bulk of the file. I stopped reading them after a time, skipping them. I didn’t need to see what this woman suffered. 

Then I found the death certificate. 

It was old, faded, and difficult to read. They listed the cause as death resulting from accidental injury. There was a police report. It said she fell down the stairs, despite her body being found in the living room when the stairs were in the hall. Her husband was not present. Apparently, he had left her and the child due to work and was due to return in a few days. The neighbours called the police when they found Bill wandering the street alone, aged three. 

The rest of the file was a notebook, all handwritten, I assumed by Bill. It laid out his own personal investigation. I don’t know how he’d done it, but he’d gotten bank records, business records, all kinds of stuff. I doubt he got it legally, considering the detail he had. 

It showed that granddad was on annual leave at the time of Denise’s death. There was a hotel in town where he’d stayed one night, the night Denise’s body had been found. According to Bill’s notes, there was no evidence Granddad had travelled for business, instead he was in town at the time she died. The police never looked into it. 

Mum and I sat in silence for a long time after we finished reading. Mum crying silently. I just stared at the wall. 

Did granddad really murder his first wife? Abandon his child? Was I willing to entertain such a thought? Brian was right I had been frightened of him when I was little, granddad was not known for his kindness of temper, but he never hit me, mum never mentioned him hitting her and gran had loved him, he’d always been so gentle with her. Did I really believe he was a killer? 

“We need to go see dad.” Mum’s words sounded hollow, like she was empty inside. 

“You believe this?” I felt sick. 

“I don’t know,” Mum said, standing up. “But I want to talk to him.” 

When we pulled up outside granddad’s house, we did so behind two police cars.