Jadyn stared down at the dog, the animal’s huge, sorrowful eyes gazing up at him, pleading for just a tiny morsel.
‘He looks hungry,’ Jadyn said.
‘He’s a dog,’ Jim replied. ‘He never looks anything else.’
Jim then lifted the file Jadyn had brought with him and flicked it open.
‘Exciting stuff, this,’ he said, flipping through the papers. ‘Proper police work. An escaped rabbit, a lost cat, complaints about a barking dog. Ah…’
Jadyn saw Jim pull out one of the sheets.
‘What’s that?’
‘Lost dog,’ Jim said. ‘Reported a few weeks ago. Look.’
Jadyn took the sheet of paper and quickly skimmed through it.
‘You recognise the name?’
‘I do,’ Jim said. ‘Same as the one on the dog collar Harry had this morning.’
‘Says here though,’ Jadyn said, reading Jim’s report, ‘that the dog ran off.’
‘That’s what the owner said. He thought it had just got out of his vehicle somehow. It happens.’
‘There’s a mention here of squirrels,’ Jadyn noticed.
‘The owner’s a gamekeeper,’ Jim explained. ‘Retired anyway. Still helps out a few farmer friends with vermin control.’
‘Squirrels are vermin?’
‘Greys, yes,’ Jim said.
Jadyn thought for a moment then said, ‘Why would a gamekeeper’s dog run off? Of all the jobs around, I would’ve thought that being a gamekeeper would mean having well-trained dogs.’
‘Maybe it didn’t run off,’ Jim said. ‘Could’ve been taken.’
‘Or it could’ve been picked up by someone after it went walkabout,’ Jadyn said.
With little else to be said on the matter, both Jadyn and Jim fell quiet as Jim shuffled further back through the file.
‘There’s another report here,’ he said, Jadyn having now finished his pie.
‘Stolen dog, you mean?’
Jim nodded.
‘Six months ago.’
‘What’s it say?’
Jim was quiet as he read, then said, ‘Not much. Alsatian, though.’
‘I remember, there was this woman who lived on our street back home had one of those. She was tiny. Bought an Alsatian as protection. Daft animal was soft as anything, but the mouth on it!’
‘Big, then?’
‘When it yawned it was like it was about to swallow her whole.’
‘Well, it’s something else to check, isn’t it?’ Jim said. ‘You never know. Might be useful.’
A few minutes later, and the pie having calmed Jadyn’s stomach, he asked, ‘So, how was it? Round at Neil’s parents?’
Jim was quiet for a moment, then said, ‘Neil’s dad gave me a bollocking.’
Jadyn coughed on a mouthful of meat and pastry.
‘What? Why?’
Jim shook his head but Jadyn saw a faint smile on the PCSO’s face.
‘Because I deserved it,’ he said.
‘How?’
‘Neil’s death,’ said Jim. ‘Blaming myself, I guess.’
Jadyn said nothing and finished off what he was eating. Jim had taken what had happened hard, but that was understandable, he thought. And he’d not been himself since. Not helped by the fact that the investigation had hit a wall.
‘Something’ll come up,’ he said eventually.
‘It will,’ Jim agreed.
Driving on down through the dale, the weather held. Jadyn had to work hard to not allow the rumbling thrum of the engine, and the warmth of Fly now leaning against his legs, to send him off for an early afternoon nap. He thought about the dog that had gone missing, and how it had somehow ended up in a dog fight. Either it had been stolen, or it had been picked up after it had done a runner. In either case, they didn’t have much to go on. Murder investigations were one thing, but missing dogs? Unless it was chipped, then—
That thought burst a bright light in Jadyn’s head.
‘Was it chipped?’ he asked. ‘The dog; did the owner have it chipped?’
‘It’ll say in the notes,’ Jim said. ‘I can’t remember.’
Jadyn checked again.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It was.’
‘So?’
‘So,’ Jadyn said, ‘it’ll be another way to confirm that the deceased dog is this one reported missing.’
When they eventually arrived at the veterinary surgery in Leyburn, Fly was so asleep that he barely stirred when Jim pulled the vehicle to a stop alongside a huge mud-splattered motorbike loaded with shiny metal panniers, and clearly designed for trails and rough tracks as well as roads.
‘Liz would love that,’ said Jadyn.
‘Belongs to the surgery,’ Jim said. ‘Means the vets can get to emergencies a lot quicker across fields and down lanes.’
‘What about four-by-fours?’ Jadyn asked.
‘They have those, too,’ Jim said, and pointed at a couple of weary-looking Land Rovers on the other side of the car park. Then he looked over at Fly and said, ‘He’s coming with us so put the lead on him. Can’t see how I’m ever going to be happy about leaving him on his own, even at a vet, not with what’s just happened.’
At the surgery, Jadyn and Jim stood quietly in reception. It was being run by a woman who Jadyn thought was about his age. Her hair was streaked green and she spoke as much to the pets coming into the building as the owners. The plastic tag on her blue uniform gave the name Pauline Haighand she was currently talking to a very small woman with a very large dog. So large, in fact, that Jadyn was pretty sure the woman could, if she wanted to, ride it like a pony.
The reception itself was clean and bright, with chairs around the edge of the room and a coffee table piled with magazines in the centre. Shelving against one wall contained various bags of dog food and next to it was a rack of various bits and bobs for pet owners, from dog leads and chew toys to little jumpers and catnip. In one of the windows was an odd collection of items with a sign in front saying, ‘All raffle donations gratefully received.’ Jadyn could see how winning some of the items would be quite nice, like the bottles of wine and hampers, but he wasn’t sure he’d be all that happy with the packet of socks, four-pack of baked beans, or the stuffed pigeon.
‘Bit weird,’ Jadyn said, pointing at the raffle prizes.
Jim laughed.
‘Neil’s parents were unlucky enough to win something like that at Christmas. They’ve got it on the wall!’
‘Why?’
‘Apparently, it adds class,’ Jim said.
‘But a stuffed bird in a vets?’ Jadyn said. ‘Really?’
Jim shrugged and before Jadyn could say anymore, Pauline the receptionist called them over.
‘You’re here to see Mr Bell, yes?’ Pauline asked. ‘The veterinary surgeon?’ Then she spotted Jim. ‘James, how are you! How’s your mum and dad? What happened at your farm, that was awful, with the theft and everything. Are they okay?’
‘Yes, they are, thank you, Pauline,’ Jim replied. ‘Is Andy about, then?’
‘I was told he would be,’ Jadyn added.
‘He was,’ Pauline said. ‘But he was called out just after he spoke to you I think, but he’s on his way back.’
‘Emergency?’ Jim asked.
‘Something to do with sheep,’ Pauline said with a shrug. ‘But then, what isn’t round here?’
‘Was it serious?’ Jadyn asked, making conversation, if only to take in a little more the lurid colour of Pauline’s hair.
‘With sheep, it’s always serious,’ Pauline said. ‘I swear those animals all get together in the morning and decide who is going to get foot rot or fly strike or just die for no reason. You’d be mad to farm them.’
Jadyn saw Pauline’s eyes dip to Fly.
‘And who’s this, then?’ she asked, coming out from behind her desk. ‘This your new dog, Jim? Kath mentioned it, but she didn’t say how adorable he is!’
As she approached, Fly’s tail started to wag.
&
nbsp; ‘Isn’t he a strong-looking boy!’
‘He’s a good sheepdog,’ Jim said. ‘Well, he will be eventually if people will stop spoiling him.’
Pauline dropped to her knees and Fly rolled onto his back for a tummy rub.
Jadyn laughed as Jim rolled his eyes.
‘And you’re no help,’ Jim said.
‘Sorry.’ Pauline laughed.
‘Not you, the dog!’ Jim said.
The fuss over, Jadyn and Jim sat down to wait. In the reception area was a cat in a basket, the fluffiest puppy Jadyn had ever seen, and a young Staffordshire Terrier whose face seemed to be set in a permanent smile, its tongue lolling out comically.
The sound of a loud engine rattled the windows of the building and Pauline stood up to look out through a window and onto the car park.
‘Officer Okri?’
Jadyn looked up to receive a wave from Pauline.
‘That’s Mr Bell; he’s just arrived. He’ll be with you in his surgery in a few minutes, okay?’
Jadyn nodded a thank you and a moment or two later they were following Pauline out of reception and down a short corridor. As they headed off, Jadyn looked back at the terrier and found himself waving to the dog who returned the gesture with a wagging tail. The owner, however, a man wearing bike leathers and the most enormous beard Jadyn had ever seen, stared back at him with narrow eyes then reached down and patted the dog’s head.
‘Nice dog,’ Jadyn said.
The man said nothing in reply.
‘Through here,’ Pauline said, and Jadyn and Jim, with Fly in tow, entered a small room that smelled not exactly unpleasant, but sort of funky and medicinal, Jadyn thought. It was a smell he could put up with, yes, but not one he’d want to take home with him. Two people were in the room waiting for them. The one on the left, a tall man wearing glasses, his dark brown hair cut short, who Jadyn put a guess at being in his mid- to late-thirties, welcomed them.
‘I’m Andrew Bell,’ the man said. ‘Director of the surgery and one of the veterinary surgeons here.’
He spoke with a soft dales accent, Jadyn noticed, as though it had been slowly eroded by time, but not enough for it to disappear completely.
‘I’m Police Constable Okri,’ Jadyn said.
‘Good to meet you,’ Andrew said, then looked at Jim. ‘And hello, Jim! Fly’s growing into a fine-looking dog, I see!’
‘He is,’ Jim said. ‘Just a bit too soft if you ask me.’
‘Sorry I was out,’ Andrew said. ‘But that’s the life of a vet, I’m afraid, particularly around here. Lots of emergencies on farms, as I’m sure you both know. Particularly with all the lambs now running around and getting themselves into all kinds of trouble. I swear they’re born with a death wish.’
Like the man standing beside him, Andrew was dressed in a white veterinary jacket, which fell to his knees.
‘And this is Toby Halloway,’ he then said, introducing the other man. ‘Been with us about six months now I think. And seems to be falling in love with the dales, isn’t that right? Probably helped by the fact that he gets to race around it on a motorbike, but then who am I to judge?’
Toby smiled.
‘What’s not to love?’ he said, his voice betraying a hint of Welsh to it.
‘Still, it has its darker side, though,’ Jim said.
Toby nodded.
‘Everywhere does.’
Toby, Jadyn observed, was a good few years younger than Andrew. He also noticed that he was carrying a physique that required dedication and a gym membership, his square shoulders sitting beneath a head of blond, wavy hair, which made him look more like a surfer.
‘You’re here for the necropsy,’ Andrew stated.
‘Yes,’ Jadyn said. ‘I understand you’ve sent your results through to the pathologist, but I was asked to come over and have a chat about it anyway.’
‘First things first, though,’ Toby said, then dropped to his knees and took Fly’s head in his hands. ‘Aren’t you the strong, handsome boy, then, eh?’
Fly’s tail thumped on the surgery floor.
‘Don’t tell him that!’ Jim said. ‘Last thing I need is him getting even more full of himself!’
Toby laughed and Jadyn couldn’t help but join in, particularly when the dog flopped down and rolled over onto his back, paws in the air.
‘He’s a terror, then, I see,’ Andrew said, as Toby scratched Fly’s stomach, causing the dog to twist around in obvious ecstasy.
‘He’ll make a good sheepdog, eventually,’ Jim said.
‘You sure of that?’ Jadyn asked, staring at Fly.
‘I have to be,’ Jim said. ‘I can’t exactly afford to get another.’
Toby gave Fly another belly scratch then stood up. Once on his feet he reached around to a desk at the side of the room and grabbed a folder.
‘Here you go,’ he said, handing the folder to Jadyn.
‘That’s the report,’ said Andrew, as Jadyn opened it. ‘I warn you though, it doesn’t make for an enjoyable read.’
But the warning was too late in coming, and as Jadyn’s eyes fell on the photographs, and as he read through what the vets had found, his hand reached down instinctively to pat Fly on his soft, warm, furry head.
Chapter Thirteen
Matt had spent most of the day so far, learning very little indeed. The trip out to Snaizeholme would have usually been an enjoyable one but knowing what had gone on only served to taint the whole experience. Having spoken with the farmer, all he’d found out was that yes, they’d heard something, vehicles on the lane, and gone out to investigate. Having had some trouble with a few idiots treating it like a small rally course at various times before, they wanted to catch them in the act.
‘So, what did you see?’ Matt asked.
‘Nowt much,’ the farmer replied. ‘Just a lot of lights zipping past. We were too late.’
‘Nothing else you can remember at all?’
‘One of the cars was red,’ the farmer had then added. ‘Yes, definitely red. At least I think it was. I mean, it was late, wasn’t it? Dark and all.’
Then, before Matt had left, the farmer had expressed his anger at what he’d told him, his face growing redder with every word he barked into the day.
‘And you know what I’d have done? Do you? Do you know? I’d have been out there giving them a bit of what they deserve, that’s what! Coming down here, doing that? It’s disgusting, it is! Animals, the lot of them! And do you know what we do with bad animals? With dogs that go wild and bother sheep? We shoot them, that’s what! We shoot them!’
Matt had then advised the farmer against taking any such vigilante action should he see someone else on his land, advising that it would be best to just give the police a call instead. He also asked him to call him if they saw anything suspicious going on again or remembered something they thought might be useful.
After the visit to Snaizeholme, he’d then popped in to have a quick chat with Dave and only just managed to get away before being invited in for a look through, not just a collection of badger and otter video clips, but a slide show. Matt had known Dave for a good many years, but this nature-loving side of him was quite the surprise. Not that he loved nature as such, but that he was so into it. Matt had always assumed Dave’s interest in the natural world involved country sports and walks to and from the pub. But wildlife cameras? Otter spotting? Really?
Now that it was late afternoon, and after checking in with Gordy, Jen, and Liz, and knocking on a few doors himself, he was at the bookmakers in Hawes, and sitting in a little back room away from the main shop out front. The owner, Mr Slater, a man who refused to be called by his first name by anyone, and whose passion for gambling was only eclipsed by his love of always wearing a waistcoat and pocket watch—which he seemed to check every two or three minutes—was sitting on the other side of a desk. He was early-sixties, Matt thought, his skin pale from so long spent inside his the premises of the bookies.
The afternoon was growing late
and Matt was keen to have this little chat kept as short as possible. He wanted to get home, not just for some dinner, but to check on Jean. He wasn’t over-protective—Jean made damned sure of that—however, having a wife in a wheelchair was one thing, but now that she was pregnant? That was a little different. Though he was pretty sure that Jean didn’t really need him around as much as he liked to think that she did. She was still working full-time up at the secondary school in Leyburn teaching art, and every day she seemed to look healthier and healthier. Matt would never admit it out loud, but he was almost a little jealous. Almost.
‘You could’ve called before gracing us with your presence,’ Mr Slater said, checking his pocket watch, even though Matt had only just sat down.
‘That I could,’ Matt said, ‘but everyone loves a surprise, don’t they?’
‘No,’ Mr Slater said. ‘They don’t. Certainly not here, anyway. Makes people jumpy.’
‘I don’t see why it should,’ said Matt. ‘Everything you do is legitimate and aboveboard, isn’t it?’
‘Of course it is!’ Mr Slater said, bristling at Matt’s words. ‘But that doesn’t detract from the fact that the police walking in can have chins wagging.’
‘About what, exactly?’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ Mr Slater replied. ‘But when they do, all kinds of nonsense usually spills out, doesn’t it?’
Matt leaned back in his chair. It creaked loudly as though keen for him to get out of it, and quickly. But he stayed where he was, not offering anything yet in the way of a reason for his visit.
‘Well?’ Mr Slater eventually said.
‘Well, what?’ Matt replied.
‘Your visit!’ Mr Slater said. ‘There’s a reason, I assume?’
‘Of course, there is,’ Matt said.
Mr Slater stared, waiting for Matt to reveal why he was there.
‘I’m a busy man, Officer Dinsdale,’ Mr Slater said. ‘And just so you’re aware, I will be unable to give you any details as to who my customers are, or their finances.’
The smile on the man’s face was just the right side of smug to have Matt wanting to reach over and rip it off like a plaster.
‘And that is as I would expect,’ Matt said. ‘But what about your son?’
Blood Sport: A Yorkshire Murder Mystery (DCI Harry Grimm Crime Thrillers 7) Page 10