Animal Instinct

by Animal Instinct (retail) (epub)

  ‘Good to know,’ said Chrissie. ‘Meanwhile, I’m on a deadline. I need some inside track. Are you coming over today?’

  Joe stubbed out his cigarette.

  ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘I need some time out.’

  Only after hanging up did he remember rebuffing the journalist’s ‘honey badger’ suggestion to pool resources. Chrissie McBride was not one to take no for an answer.

  He finished his tea, paid the bill then headed in the direction of the car park. The busker was taking a break. Joe watched the man retrieve a cigarette from behind his ear and light it with a match. The puppy was still curled up on his jumper, watching the passers-by. Joe saw a scattering of coins inside the upturned fedora. He petted the dog then turned to ‘Dreadlocks’.

  ‘A quid? Or cigarettes?’

  ‘Fags, please.’ Joe dropped the packet of Marlboro into the hat.

  ‘Cheers,’ said the busker. ‘Have a good day.’

  ‘Too late for that,’ said Joe.

  He headed away, through the crowds buying burgers, hats and tourist tat. Passing the entrance to the cathedral, he heard the bells begin to peal. A fragment from Sunday school flitted through his mind.

  And the truth shall set you free.

  * * *

  There was no sign of Chrissie or her Fiat in the lay-by opposite the private entrance to Pennefeather’s. Pressing the buzzer, Joe announced his name and was admitted to the wildlife park – still closed to the public.

  Following the winding route to the house, he passed keepers and volunteers, busy feeding animals and mucking out enclosures. Business as usual. A girl was dead but life went on and the animals required as much care as ever. Cruising past the Chinese leopard, Joe caught a glimpse of the creature asleep in the branches of a tree, basking in the September sun. A hundred yards further on, he passed ele keeper Tom Lycett locked in conversation with Raoul Jonas, the Panda-cam electrician. Joe raised a hand in greeting. Lycett nodded back. Raoul stared, jutting out his Desperate Dan chin. He was wearing a new badge.

  Man is the only animal that blushes – or needs to.

  * * *

  In the oak-panelled study, Adam looked haggard. A man stood at his side.

  ‘This is Felix Goodchild,’ said Adam. ‘Isobel’s brother. Our family solicitor.’

  The dapper lawyer’s handshake was clammy and limp.

  ‘I’ve heard a lot about you,’ he said. ‘We’re glad you’re on the case.’

  The man was in his mid-forties. Smart suit. Highly polished shoes. A Rolex – same model as Lycett. Joe caught a whiff of a familiar aftershave. Citrus. The same smell he had detected on the elephant keeper?

  ‘I’m happy to help,’ he said.

  ‘Very good of you – especially since your family politics can’t be easy.’ He smiled again. The word oleaginous flashed into Joe’s mind.

  ‘Katie’s always very good on boundaries,’ he said. ‘Highly professional. Very discreet.’

  ‘Like you?’

  ‘Of course. But I should be clear: if I come across anything that might be relevant to the police investigation then obviously—’

  He didn’t have time to finish the sentence.

  ‘Does that cut both ways?’

  The lawyer’s expression gave nothing away but Joe detected a private agenda.

  ‘My wife won’t tell me a thing,’ said Joe.

  There was relief in the man’s smile.

  ‘We all want to find out who did this terrible thing to my niece,’ said Goodchild. ‘No one’s keener than Adam.’

  Joe sat in a leather armchair beside what he at first took to be a coffee table. He was wrong. It was an old coffin. The wood was badly damaged, segments had crumbled, but the remains had been restored and treated to add lustre. A sheet of bevelled glass protected the coffin lid.

  Adam followed Joe’s gaze.

  ‘Lee Harvey Oswald’s coffin,’ he said. ‘I bought it after they dug him up to disprove some crackpot conspiracy theory.’

  A block of Perspex the size of a hardback book rested on the coffin lid. Encased within was a human bone which Joe recognized as part of a leg.

  ‘It’s a femur,’ said Adam. ‘Belonged to Gilles de Rais. Nasty piece of work.’

  Joe shuddered, recalling the biography he had seen in the drawing room. ‘If you don’t mind my asking…’

  ‘…why collect this stuff?’

  Joe nodded.

  Adam shrugged. ‘I started in my twenties. I was head over heels with the most ravishing Frenchwoman. She had a rather morbid sense of humour. I tried to impress her by spending money on things like this. The folly of youth.’

  Felix Goodchild cleared his throat. ‘Probably best not to bring the police into this room.’

  ‘Too late,’ said Adam. ‘Joe’s wife knew about the coffin. She asked me to show her.’

  ‘Katie’s meticulous,’ said Joe. ‘She always does her research.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said the lawyer. ‘She seems to be making progress already. They found Bella’s iPhone.’

  Joe feigned ignorance. ‘And?’

  ‘Apparently she had a diary app,’ said Adam. ‘But your wife won’t tell me what’s on it.’

  Joe met the man’s gaze.

  ‘If there’s a lot of material it’ll take time to go through the contents.’

  Felix gave a tight smile. ‘From the way your wife was questioning Adam it seems she has him firmly in her sights. Which is absurd.’

  Joe said nothing.

  ‘The SOCOs found my footprints in the elephant house storeroom,’ said Adam. ‘And my fingerprints were on a bottle in the keepers’ office.’ He nodded towards a bottle of whisky on a table. ‘It’s my tipple, no doubt about it. Balvenie, single malt. But I haven’t been in the ele house for ages so there’s only one explanation.’

  Joe raised an eyebrow. ‘Which is?’

  ‘Someone is trying to frame me.’

  ‘Why would anyone do that?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ said Adam. ‘Your wife wants me to go to the police station again.’ He checked his watch then stood up and ran a hand over his head. ‘I think she’s planning to arrest me.’

  Joe chose his words with care. Non-committal, non-judgemental.

  ‘This must be very difficult for you.’

  ‘The hell with me.’ Adam leaned forward in his chair. ‘I was worried she’d screw things up – go after the wrong people – and it looks like I’m about to be proved right. But if I’m out of circulation I need to know you’ll stay the course.’

  Joe thought back to the information he’d gleaned from Katie’s laptop, to Bella’s iPhone tirade against her father.

  ‘I’ll see this through,’ he said. ‘But you needn’t worry about Katie messing up. She’s the smartest copper I know and she won’t give up until she finds out who killed your daughter.’

  10

  Joe found Isobel in the basement kitchen, still in her dressing gown, staring at an untouched boiled egg. Saffron sat at the huge table, wearing a floral-patterned maternity smock, one hand on her pregnant belly. Joe thought he detected a hint of patchouli oil. Her husband, Liam, sat at her side, eating soup. No one seemed surprised to see Joe.

  ‘Has Daddy gone?’ said Saffron.

  ‘Yes,’ said Joe. ‘Your uncle’s driving him to Canterbury.’

  A look of alarm flitted across Isobel’s face.

  ‘Without saying goodbye?’

  Liam put a hand on his mother-in-law’s arm.

  ‘He’ll be back soon. Try and eat.’

  Saffron picked up a knife and lopped the top from Isobel’s boiled egg, but her mother appeared not to notice. She sipped her wine then lit a cigarette, sending a cloud of smoke across the table. Liam glared. He waved the smoke away and carried on eating. Saffron turned to Joe.

  ‘The police wanted to know our alibis,’ she said. ‘Not in so many words, of course, but that’s what they were doing, wasn’t it?’

  Joe hesitated.
These people were raw, in shock. Telling the truth was the least he could do.

  ‘It’s purely routine,’ he said. ‘Eliminating people is an important step.’

  ‘Does that apply to you too, Mr Cassidy?’ Isobel’s tone was waspish. ‘Do you want to “eliminate” us?’

  Joe nodded, careful to keep his smile in place. ‘It’s helpful to know where everyone was.’

  ‘Mummy and I were asleep,’ said Saffron. ‘So was Daddy. Liam was in London.’ She turned to her husband. ‘Show him the receipt.’

  Liam fished a slip of paper from his wallet and handed it to Joe. It was a receipt for petrol from a BP garage in Belsize Park, London. The slip was time-stamped at 00.32 on the night of Bella’s murder.

  ‘I remembered it this morning,’ said the Irishman. ‘Should I tell your wife?’

  ‘Can’t do any harm,’ said Joe.

  He looked at the people around the table. In the old days, as a senior investigating officer, he would have questioned them separately, for as long as the law allowed, but things were different now.

  Softly-softly…

  ‘Do you mind if I ask a few questions?’

  ‘Oh, good,’ said Isobel tartly. ‘More bloody questions.’

  Saffron pretended not to hear. She turned to Joe.

  ‘Would you like some soup?’

  Declining the offer, Joe took a seat and looked at the three expectant faces. ‘Let’s start with the obvious question,’ he said. ‘Can you think who might have done this?’

  Isobel couldn’t mask her annoyance. ‘Of course not,’ she said, flicking ash into a saucer. ‘Everyone adored Bella.’

  Saffron poured a glass of water.

  ‘Maybe someone broke in?’ she said. ‘It’s hardly Fort Knox. Anyone can climb the fences by the gates.’

  ‘Most murder victims are killed by someone they know,’ said Liam.

  ‘Correct,’ said Joe. ‘Did Bella have rows with anyone? Friends? Boyfriends?’

  ‘If so, she didn’t tell me,’ said Saffron. ‘And she told me everything.’

  Joe thought back to the final entry in the dead woman’s diary.

  Who can I tell? Wish I were dead. Everyone thinks he’s so nice. Can’t even tell Saffron. HELP!!! PLEASE!!!

  He became aware of the body language of the couple opposite. Their chairs were close together, their thighs touching. What had Bella written about their rampant sex life?

  Saffron and Liam still SEX MAD after two years!!! Heard them shagging for England first thing. Again tonight!!! Like animals rutting. Mum is SO embarrassed, she doesn’t know where to look when they come down for breakfast.

  ‘Did Bella have a boyfriend?’ said Joe.

  Saffron shook her head. ‘If you ask me, she was never terribly into sex.’

  Liam frowned. ‘I thought she had a thing for Tom Lycett.’

  ‘A crush,’ said Saffron. ‘I’m not sure it went any further.’

  ‘What about social networking?’ said Joe.

  ‘She hated all that stuff,’ said Saffron. ‘The police took her laptop but they won’t find anything. She wasn’t even on Facebook or Twitter, let alone dating apps.’

  Joe saw a tear make its way down Isobel’s cheek.

  ‘I can’t believe we’re using the past tense.’

  Saffron reached out a comforting hand but Isobel drew hers away. She dragged on her cigarette, exhaling another cloud of smoke. Liam cleared his throat and gave a tight smile.

  ‘I know this isn’t the best time,’ he said, ‘but can you avoid smoking around Saffron? It’s bad for the baby and—’

  Isobel cut him short. ‘Bloody thing hasn’t been born yet.’ She stabbed her cigarette into the yolk of her egg. Her chair scraped on the flagstone floor as she got to her feet and stared at her daughter. ‘As for you – nine months pregnant and rutting like an animal while your sister’s lying on a slab. You disgust me. Both of you.’ She glared at Liam then walked out. Joe heard her footsteps clacking in the corridor. Somewhere, a door slammed. Then silence.

  ‘Did she just call her own grandchild “the bloody thing”?’ said the Irishman. ‘Nice.’

  ‘She’s Capricorn,’ said Saffron, as though that explained everything. Liam rolled his eyes then gave Joe a sheepish smile.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t bear smokers, not since I packed in fags myself.’ He raised his arm, showing Joe the nicotine patch on the back of his hand. ‘The zeal of the convert.’

  Saffron put her hand on her husband’s thigh.

  ‘Liam’s parents both died from lung cancer.’

  Joe gave a sympathetic smile.

  ‘I feel for anyone trying to quit.’ He paused then nodded towards Saffron’s belly. ‘How’s the name game going?’

  ‘Ella,’ said Liam. ‘After Ella Fitzgerald. I’m a jazz nut.’

  ‘And if it’s a boy?’

  ‘We know it’s a girl,’ said Liam. ‘Much to Isobel’s relief.’

  Joe raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Meaning?’

  Saffron sighed. ‘Mummy doesn’t do boys.’

  Her husband rolled his eyes. ‘Understatement of the century.’

  ‘“Doesn’t do boys”?’ said Joe.

  ‘She can’t stand them,’ said Saffron. ‘Her first five years were bliss. Apple of her Pa’s eye. Bedtime stories. Pony in the paddock. Then Uncle Felix was born, Granny died in labour and Mummy’s world imploded. That’s how she puts it, when she’s in one of her moods.’

  ‘Which is all the time,’ said Liam. He buttered a piece of bread.

  ‘A case of paradise lost?’ said Joe.

  Saffron nodded. ‘She’s been boy-phobic ever since. Especially babies. I know it sounds melodramatic but phobic is the only word for it. When I told her I was having a girl I thought she’d explode with joy.’

  ‘Whereas a grandson would have been a no-no?’

  Saffron nodded. ‘Daddy came home one day with a kitten. The cutest thing you ever saw. But it was a boy. Mummy kicked up a terrible fuss. Yes, it was cute now but it would grow into a stinking great tom, spraying everywhere, killing birds, clawing the furniture. It didn’t matter how often Daddy promised to have him neutered, or how many tears I cried, she carried on until he gave in and took the kitten away. Came back with a female.’

  ‘Which was OK with your mother?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Saffron. ‘Girls: good. Boys: bad. It’s a wonder I haven’t turned into some a raging feminist lesbian.’

  Joe took stock of the woman’s appearance: her waist-length blonde hair, the floral pattern on her hippyish smock, her face free from make-up. He glanced over her shoulder at the Welsh dresser. Alongside the crockery were framed family photos, including formal portraits of Bella and Saffron, and pictures of Adam and Isobel on sunshine holidays with the girls. Joe could see landmarks from around the world. Sydney. Rome. New York. Tokyo. Beijing. Bali. Safari holidays in Africa. And photos of Saffron and Liam’s wedding.

  ‘How long have you been married?’

  ‘Eighteen months,’ said the Irishman. ‘We met a couple of years ago. Saffron was studying aromatherapy. I wound up on her massage bed.’

  Joe scanned the wedding photos. One member of the clan was absent.

  ‘Is your mother close to her brother?’

  Saffron dabbed her lips with a napkin. Cleared her throat. Joe sensed she was playing for time.

  ‘She tried to kill Felix,’ she said. Joe’s eyes widened. ‘He was six months old. It’s the family taboo. Which doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.’ She sipped her water then continued. ‘Mummy was six. It was bathtime. The nanny left her alone with Felix, to fetch a towel from the linen cupboard. When she came back Mummy was holding his head under water. Another few seconds…’

  She tailed off.

  ‘And it wasn’t a one-off,’ said Liam.

  Saffron glared. He shrugged.

  ‘You brought it up.’

  ‘It happened again?’ said Joe.

  A nod.

  ‘Accordi
ng to the nanny, Uncle Felix’s pram fell down a flight of stone steps in the garden. He was nine months old. Got off lightly; just cuts and bruises.’

  ‘And they think your mother pushed him?’ said Joe.

  ‘Yes, but there was no proof and no one saw her do it. She’s always laughed it off. But Bella and I always thought it had the ring of truth.’

  ‘Because she’d already tried to kill him?’

  ‘Isn’t that going a wee bit far?’ said Liam. ‘She was only a little girl.’

  ‘There speaks an only child,’ said Saffron. She turned to Joe. ‘Do you have siblings?’

  Joe shook his head. ‘My parents said I was all they could handle.’

  Saffron gave a wintry smile.

  ‘Then you can’t possibly understand. There’s only one emotion stronger than love for a sibling, and that’s hatred. One minute, you’d do anything for them – donate a kidney, kill for them, die for them – the next, you’d gladly push them under a bus.’ She raised her eyes to meet Joe’s. ‘I expect you’re wondering if that’s how I felt about Bella.’

  ‘Is it?’

  Another nod but no trace of a smile. ‘Yes.’

  Joe leaned forward. The smell of patchouli oil was stronger than ever.

  ‘That’s very frank.’

  ‘My wife has nothing to hide,’ said Liam, taking Saffron’s hand.

  Joe studied the woman’s face.

  ‘Your father mentioned that you had a younger brother. Gabriel.’

  Saffron blinked. ‘He died when he was nineteen. We didn’t…’ She tailed off. ‘We didn’t exactly know him.’

  Joe waited. Took a sip of water. Biding his time. People were scared of silence. If you waited long enough they’d fill it.

  ‘Mummy nearly killed Gabriel too,’ said Saffron quietly. She gave a mirthless laugh. ‘I’m making her sound like some sort of serial killer.’

  ‘Do you mean an accident?’ said Joe.

  She shook her head. ‘She had post-natal depression. For at least a year after the birth. Went totally off the rails and left Gabriel out in the snow. If Daddy hadn’t found him…’ She tailed off, letting the sentence finish itself.

  ‘But she never tried to harm you or Bella?’ said Joe. ‘Just Gabriel?’