No Holds Barred (13 page)

That done, he toyed with the idea of sounding out the local police on the matter of the missing pets, but Great Ditton certainly didn't have a station, and he didn't know for sure where the nearest one was or whether it would even be open on a Saturday evening. Adding to that the doubtful wisdom of turning up in a car that was clearly not roadworthy, he gave the idea up as a non-starter.

At the turning to Forester's, Daniel hesitated and then drove on down the farm drive. It was still early and a ride out on Piper was a great deal more alluring than a long evening spent at the cottage, where the only entertainment was reading or listening to the radio. Daniel wasn't one for long periods of inactivity, and Taz could certainly do with a run now his paw was sorted.

As he drove out from the shelter of the trees on to the rise overlooking the farm, the first thing that caught Daniel's eye was the fluorescent striped livery of a police Range Rover parked in front of the house. He slowed to a stop. Had Jenny decided to report the previous night's trouble after all? If she had, he could kiss the idea of an evening ride goodbye. Irritation set in. He really wasn't in the mood for the interminable questioning that would follow.

‘Bugger!' he said. There was no point in turning round now. If the police wanted to speak to him, they would catch up with him sooner or later. He drove over the rise and on down the slope to the yard, parking beside the Range Rover just as Jenny emerged from the house accompanied by two officers, one male and one female.

‘Well, we'll be in touch as soon as we have any more news, Mrs Summers,' Daniel heard the man say as he got out of the car.

‘Thank you. Oh, hi, Daniel. Daniel's my new driver,' Jenny told the pair. ‘He's on loan from a friend to help out for a bit.'

The two officers looked Daniel over appraisingly and he returned their regard, seeing a man in his forties, slightly overweight and balding, and his female colleague, thirty-something, blonde and on the hard side of pretty.

‘Are you staying in the village?' the woman asked. She wore her hair scraped back into a knot below her cap.

That was good. Jenny obviously hadn't mentioned the previous night's events.

‘He's staying at the cottage in the woods – the one we call Forester's,' Jenny put in quickly.

Not that it was any of their business, Daniel thought sourly. Checking that he hadn't moved in with Jenny whilst her husband was out of the picture, no doubt. He'd have done the same in their place, but it felt different to be on the receiving end of such probing. If he
had
moved in, he'd probably have been added to the suspect list for Gavin's assault. Always supposing they had any suspects, he thought cynically.

The female officer's attention had transferred to his car.

‘Had a spot of bother?' she asked, indicating the headlights.

‘Yeah, kids, I think. Too much time on their hands.'

‘When did that happen?'

‘Last night.' If he lied, they'd want to know why he hadn't got the lights repaired yet.

‘Out at the cottage? That's a long way to go for mischief.'

‘Yeah, nicely remote,' Daniel said pointedly. ‘Not much chance of being seen.'

‘
Did
you see them?'

‘It was dark. Time I got outside, they were long gone,' Daniel said.

‘And er  . . . ?' She indicated her own cheekbone, eyebrows raised.

‘Tripped over the dog on the way out,' he explained blandly.

‘Mm, well, you'll need to get those lights sorted before you drive that again,' she stated.

‘Yeah, lucky it's a private road between here and the cottage, isn't it?'

The blonde head nodded to concede the point, and moved towards the Range Rover with her partner following. Even though she was outranked by her male colleague, she was clearly the dynamic one of the pair. She would go far, Daniel mused, glad he was out of the career advancement rat race.

‘Do you have any theories about the missing pet problem in this area?' he asked, as they opened the Range Rover's doors. Both paused and looked at him.

‘
Is
there a problem?' Predictably, it was the blonde who spoke.

‘You must know there is,' Daniel replied. ‘I've only been here a few days and even
I've
noticed all the posters and the notices in the local rag. There was even an article. What's the official take on it?'

‘Well, yes, of course we're aware that a number of pets have been reported missing, but what often happens is that they stray for a day or two and then, when they turn up, their owners forget – or just plain don't bother – to take the notices down. It gives a rather misleading sense of the state of affairs.'

‘So you're not overly worried about it?'

‘We take all such reports seriously – but, as I said, many of them turn out to be false alarms. We simply don't have the time and the manpower to look into every lost pet claim, I'm afraid, much as we sympathize—'

‘You're not concerned that it might be connected with something else, then?'

‘Such as?'

‘Well, dog fighting, perhaps?'

Now he had her interest. Her gaze sharpened.

‘That's something of a leap, isn't it, Mr – er, I don't believe I caught your second name.'

‘Whelan.' He supplied. ‘And yours?'

‘Paige. WPS Paige.'

‘Well, not such a leap, really. It's a widespread problem, isn't it?'

Paige's male counterpart stepped forward, apparently feeling he should take some part in the conversation.

‘And what's your interest in dog fighting, Mr Whelan?'

‘As a dog owner, it disgusts me,' Daniel replied, transferring his gaze to the man. ‘As it would anyone who had a spark of decency about them. And as a concerned citizen, I just wanted to know what was being done about it.'

‘As I said, it's something we take very seriously,' Paige stepped in once more. ‘And if we did have a problem in this area, we would be aware of it, I can assure you.'

‘I thought I might have a word with the local dog warden  . . .'

Paige's expression became positively glacial.

‘Mr Whelan, we appreciate your concern, but it's something much best left to the relevant authorities.'

‘Absolutely,' Daniel said obediently, his expression bland. ‘Just as long as the relevant authorities have the time and the manpower to spare.'

Paige clearly didn't like having her own words used against her but struggled to find an answer. She favoured him with a look of sharp dislike and, with a nod to her colleague, took her leave of Jenny and got into the Range Rover.

‘She didn't like me,' Daniel observed placidly, as he and Jenny watched the vehicle climb the hill toward the wood.

‘Well, you did wind her up a bit,' Jenny pointed out, squinting against the sun as she turned to him. ‘What was that all about? The dog fighting stuff, I mean. Where did that come from?'

Daniel told her about the missing pets posters and his research at the
DVG
offices, including the article about Maisie Cooper.

‘Apparently she was convinced there were fighting dogs in the area. It made me think. We had a similar case when I was a rookie in Bristol.'

‘I remember Maisie.' Jenny turned to go back into the house. ‘She was a good soul but a bit of a drama queen. Nobody took her very seriously, I don't think. Poor old thing. She got knocked down by a car in Back Lane. There was a huge turnout at the funeral.'

‘It seems someone took her seriously,' Daniel mused, almost to himself.

‘What do you mean?'

‘Nothing really. Just thinking aloud. Ignore me.'

Jenny gave him narrow look but apparently decided not to pursue it.

‘So what was the visit for? Any news?' Daniel asked.

‘No. Someone turns up every now and then just to let me know they're still working on Gavin's case. Don't know why they don't just phone. Anyway, how's Taz?'

‘Oh, nothing too worrying. Antibiotics and a dressing. Your Mr Symmonds is a nice chap.'

‘Isn't he?' Jenny responded warmly.

‘What's the story with his son?'

‘How did you know there was a story?'

‘Oh, I don't know. Something in his body language. It seems odd that they don't run the practice together, seeing as it's called Symmonds and Son and he's obviously run ragged, in spite of having locums.'

‘Yes, well, they did for a while. Philip moved around for a bit for a year or two after qualifying – to gain some experience, you know – but then his mother – Ivor's wife – died, and Philip came home and set up shop with his dad. It all seemed to be going OK at first, but rumour has it they had a terrific row and Philip walked out. I don't know the details – perhaps they found they just couldn't work together. It happens, although no one saw it coming – not even Hayley, his receptionist, who I know quite well. I don't suppose we'll ever know what went on for sure, but it has upset Ivor very badly.'

‘When did this happen – the row, I mean?'

Jenny shrugged. ‘Oh, I don't know. End of last year, I suppose it must have been. Before Christmas, because I remember we were all a bit worried about him over the holiday, having lost Enid as well.' She paused on the doorstep. ‘Are you staying for supper? The kids are at Mum's.'

Daniel hesitated. ‘Well, actually, I had thought of taking Piper out  . . .'

‘Do you feel up to it?' Jenny looked doubtful.

‘Well, Taz is spoiling for a run and, to be honest, I think I'd sooner ride than walk. I won't go very far.'

‘OK.' Jenny's face brightened. ‘Would you mind if I came too? It seems like forever since I last rode purely for pleasure.'

‘You're asking
me
? They're
your
horses. Anyway, I was hoping you might be able to come. I wondered if you could show me where old Woodsmoke holes up, if it's not too far. I'd like to thank him again for last night.'

‘It's a deal. Two shakes, I'll just run and change.'

NINE

T
he evening ride was successful inasmuch as Jenny showed Daniel where Woodsmoke lived in a heather-thatched wooden building on a triangular piece of wasteland on the edge of the woods. However, Daniel was thwarted in his aim to try and extract more information from the poacher on the mysterious Butcher Boys, because he wasn't at home.

After a lazy Sunday at the cottage, during which he repaired the fence, restored the battered flower borders to some kind of order and spent a couple of hours exploring the surrounding woods with Taz, Daniel turned up for work on the Monday morning feeling eighty-five per cent fit.

Visually, there was very little damage to show for the events of Friday night, and the knowledge that, even after the considerable violence of the confrontation, he was able to meet Boyd and MacAllister pretty much as if he'd shrugged it all off gave Daniel confidence and a large measure of satisfaction. He was interested to see how Boyd played it.

In the event, more immediate matters were occupying Taylor Boyd's attention when Daniel walked into the drivers' room that morning.

Boyd had his back to the door, and facing him stood the diminutive figure of Reg Parsons, Summer Haulage's oldest driver, with his Jack Russell terrier, Skip, tucked under his arm.

Reg and his dog wore identical expressions of dislike, but while Reg's language was tempered by social etiquette, Skip had no such inhibitions; he was exhibiting a neat set of small white teeth and growling at Boyd in one long, continuous grizzle.

Watching from one side, with every appearance of enjoyment, was Dek Edwards. Could he have been the mysterious third man responsible for netting Taz? It seemed unlikely. Whoever had spared the dog had done so in direct defiance of Boyd's wishes, and Dek had never given any indication of being an animal lover, and every sign of hanging on Taylor's sleeve whenever possible.

The big man, Macca, occupied the sofa, but he was reading a paper and didn't look especially interested in the dispute. A quick glance round the room found no sign of the youngster, Dean.

‘What's going on?' Daniel enquired.

‘His bloody dog bit me, that's what!' Boyd said hotly, without turning his head.

‘Only because you nearly sat on him!' Reg retorted.

‘He shouldn't be on the fucking chair!'

‘He wasn't doing any harm. You didn't have to kick him, you bloody thug!'

‘All right, gentlemen, that's enough!' Daniel said, unconsciously slipping back into the quietly authoritarian mode that had been habitual in his policing days. Surprisingly, even without the uniform, it worked. Recent history apparently momentarily forgotten, the aggrieved parties turned towards him, ready to put their side of the story forward, but he forestalled them with a hand held up.

‘What's the injury?'

Boyd held up his hand, which bore two bleeding puncture wounds near the base of the thumb. Daniel glanced at it and then at the man's face, where an angry-looking cut lip confirmed his identity as Daniel's attacker, if any confirmation had been needed.

Reg snorted at the evidence. ‘Hardly life-threatening!'

‘That's not the point,' Boyd retorted. ‘It's a dangerous dog and needs putting down. I can do it for you right now, if you like?'

‘Enough!' Daniel cut in sharply. ‘If the dog bit you and you kicked it back, then in my book you've had your revenge. Incident over.'

Reg clearly wasn't happy, but after muttering under his breath and looking from Daniel to Boyd and back again, he subsided into silence and turned away. With his bushy eyebrows and grizzled hair, he bore more than a passing resemblance to his feisty little dog, Daniel thought.

‘If he fuckin' does it again, he'll get more than a kick!' Boyd promised, stabbing the air with his forefinger. Then, transferring his gaze to Daniel, demanded, ‘Who asked you, anyway?'