As a distant church clock struck eleven, a hush fell. Adam walked onto the stage. Behind him, the slideshow continued as he plucked the microphone from its stand and spoke in a faltering voice.
‘Thank you for coming.’
He paused to look out across the sea of silent, upturned faces.
‘My darling Bella was an adorable baby. A delight as a child.’ His voice grew stronger as he cleared his throat and warmed to his theme. ‘She’d grown into a kind, intelligent, beautiful young woman, much loved by family and friends. She didn’t always make life easy for herself – or her parents – but she brightened the lives of everyone who knew her. She loved this place. Above all, she loved the animals, especially the elephants.’ His voice began to crack. ‘We miss her more than words can say.’
He bowed his head and stood in silence. The crowd followed his example. For two minutes the only sound was the wind rushing through the trees. Joe’s eyes roved the crowd. Bryan Messenger was near the front, next to Hugh Duffy. There were other familiar faces, a half-dozen or so of Joe’s former colleagues blending in with the crowd, their eyes scrutinizing those paying their last respects or seeking a cheap thrill. Joe knew what was in the mind of every officer.
Is the killer here?
There were several faces he recognized – keepers and volunteers he’d spoken to over the past few days – none of whom had aroused suspicion or been able to shed light on what had happened to Bella.
To the left of the stage, Felix and Liam stood side by side, yards behind Tom Lycett. All three bowed their heads.
There was another face Joe was keen to locate.
Raoul Jonas.
The man Bella had called ‘creepy’.
‘Always watching her,’ Luke had said. ‘Trying to be friendly.’ Joe could see the electrician’s workmates, Mikey Simpson and Sam Fisher, but of Jonas himself there was no sign.
As the two minutes’ silence came to an end, Adam raised his head and addressed the microphone.
‘God bless, Bella,’ he said, his voice trembling with emotion.
He turned to look at the on-screen image of his daughter then gave a bow of respect. The crowd watched in silence as he faced them again, stepping forward to replace the microphone. Joe saw him raising a hand to attract his brother-in-law’s attention.
‘I almost forgot,’ said Adam. ‘Bella’s uncle will say a few words.’
He stepped back as Felix climbed the steps to the stage. Taking the mic, the lawyer cleared his throat and turned to the crowd of expectant faces. Once again, Joe sensed the man relishing being the focus of attention.
‘One of Bella’s great passions,’ said Felix, ‘was the conservation of that most iconic of endangered species, the giant panda. She and I travelled to China last year, trying to persuade the authorities at Chengdu reserve to let us have a pair of breeding pandas here at Pennefeather’s. If anyone could have pulled off such a coup, it was Bella. She wasn’t a girl you said “no” to. But not even she could cut through the red tape, or conjure a million dollars out of thin air, because that’s what the Chinese charge to loan a panda for a year.’
The lawyer turned to look at the screen, still showing the slideshow of Bella’s face.
‘She did, however, help to make our Panda-cam happen. It’s a tribute to her dedication that we are able to cross live, via satellite, to the Wolong Panda Breeding Centre in Sichuan Province.’ He paused for effect. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, Pennefeather’s welcomes you to Panda-cam.’
As he spoke, the final photo of Bella faded from view, to be replaced by a burst of static. Then a slogan appeared on-screen.
Live from Wolong Panda Reserve.
And now a new image: a giant panda. Not fully grown – a youngster, a year old, perhaps less. The cub clambered onto a bench covered by a wooden awning. As the bench rocked back and forth, and the panda climbed the frame, the angle widened to reveal a second cub. It approached on all fours then stood on its hind legs and took a playful swipe at what Joe assumed was its sibling.
An appreciative murmur spread through the crowd. The mood was still sombre but the sight of pandas at play was working its magic. The funereal atmosphere was already lifting. The memory of the dead girl was already fading away.
On the screen, behind the wooden swing, Joe saw trees, an expanse of vegetation and a lake. He watched as the first panda lost its grip, tumbling from its perch then landing on the second. In a flash, the cubs were tussling, play-fighting like outsize kittens. A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd as the two pandas were joined by a third, then a fourth.
Shifting his gaze, Joe saw Adam step down from the stage and fall into step with Liam. The men caught sight of Joe and headed in his direction.
‘I said your wife would fuck up,’ said Adam, without preamble. ‘First she adds to Isobel and Saffron’s distress by spreading lies about me, then she buggers off before the inquiry’s over.’
Joe knew the man was overwrought.
‘Katie didn’t “bugger off”,’ he said. ‘She was forced to step down for personal reasons.’
The men didn’t look impressed.
‘What about you?’ said Liam. ‘Will “personal issues” get in your way too?’
Joe dodged the question. ‘Everyone is doing their best. They want to find out who killed Bella.’
The stripy-shirted man looked chastened and softened his tone.
‘Can I help? Manpower? Money?’
‘No, thanks.’
Liam nodded. ‘If you change your mind, you know where to find me.’
‘I need to be with Isobel,’ said Adam.
Joe watched the man weave his way through the throng, heading in the direction of the house. Over by the stage, Felix was saying something to Tom Lycett. The elephant keeper nodded gravely then watched as Felix followed in the direction taken by Adam.
‘This is never going to work,’ said Liam. He was looking at the Panda-cam. Joe followed his gaze.
‘Why not?’
Liam gestured to the crowd.
‘A very poor turnout. And they won’t be coming back.’ He sighed. ‘As for today being a tribute to Bella…’ He didn’t finish the sentence but his scepticism was plain to see. ‘Adam wanted pandas,’ he said, scratching his three-day beard. ‘Like in the big zoos – London, Edinburgh, San Diego.’ Another shake of the head. ‘I told him he was out of his league. When China lends a panda, it’s not about wildlife, it’s about trade, diplomatic relations, business. But he wouldn’t listen.’
O’Mara ran a hand over his hair. Joe caught a glimpse of the nicotine patch on the back of his hand. He felt a craving for a cigarette.
He’s a stubborn bugger,’ said O’Mara. ‘So when the Chinese said “no dice,” he decided this was the next best thing.’ He nodded towards the Panda-cam screen. ‘Only one problem.’
Joe nodded. ‘Why fork out when you can see it on your mobile for free?’
Liam smiled. ‘Exactly.’
‘Maybe Adam could do with some of your business acumen,’ said Joe. O’Mara gave a lopsided grin.
‘I didn’t have a pot to piss in till a few years ago.’
‘So what’s the secret?’
The man leaned forward. Warming to his theme.
‘One: you need a great business model. Two: you need to work harder than your competitors. Three: you need a stroke of luck.’
‘Is that your story?’
A nod. ‘I inherited money a few years back, from an aunt. Just a few quid, but enough to get started.’ He grinned. ‘You also need to be hungry. That’s the difference between me and poor old Adam. He didn’t have my advantages.’
‘“Poor old Adam”?’
Another nod, more emphatic. ‘My parents ran a pub in Dublin. They were tenants, not even owners. Big drinkers, big smokers. They both died when I was a kid. I couldn’t have asked for a better kick up the arse, unlike Adam.’ He cast an expansive hand around the clearing, taking in the zoo and the mansion beyond. �
��He inherited all this so he wasn’t hungry.’
‘And you were?’
Liam smiled. ‘Starving.’ He scrutinized Joe’s face. ‘Would you be one of the County Mayo Cassidys?’
Joe shrugged. ‘My family’s been here for ever.’
O’Mara nodded. ‘Ever been to Dublin?
‘Once. I was cold and wet, and I was drunk.’
A smile. ‘Stag weekend?’
Joe nodded. ‘My least favourite words. Along with “bus replacement service”.’
‘Man after my own heart.’ The Irishman grinned. ‘I’m guessing you’re a Four Seasons man: mushrooms, anchovies, capers, olives.’
Joe shook his head. ‘Double pepperoni. Chillies, jalapeno peppers – the works.’
He felt a pang of hunger and renewed longing for a cigarette. He was about to ask if Liam had a spare nicotine patch but the man’s mobile beeped. He checked the text.
‘Saffron. Better be getting back.’
But Joe’s question stopped him in his tracks. ‘Did you and Bella get on?’
Liam raised his eyebrows. ‘You mean, did I kill her?’
Joe held his gaze. ‘I wondered if you had any insights.’
‘Nope,’ said Liam. He scratched his chin. ‘Nice enough girl but we didn’t have a lot in common. She and Adam used to wind each other up. And she had a soft spot for the ele keeper. “Mr Gorgeous” she called him.’
‘Thank you,’ said Joe. ‘If you think of anything else, you know where to find me.’
He watched the man head away and felt his stomach rumble. A pizza would hit the spot. He was pleased O’Mara had read him wrong. He’d been ordering the same toppings for years: double pepperoni, extra chillies, thin crust for preference…
His reverie was interrupted by a familiar voice at his side. ‘This what they call panda-monium?’
He turned to see Chrissie McBride gazing at the cubs frolicking on the giant screen.
‘Could be.’
‘I guess this is the pro-zoo argument in a nutshell,’ said the reporter, her eyes on the cubs. ‘No captive-breeding, no pandas.’
Joe nodded. ‘Adam wouldn’t thank you for using the word “zoo”: it’s a wildlife park.’
She shrugged. ‘Potato, potahto.’
Joe smiled, watching as the camera cut to another part of the reserve in Chengdu. A young keeper in blue overalls was standing next to a full-grown panda.
‘Male or female?’ said Chrissie.
‘Female,’ said Joe. ‘Pregnant. Probably twins.’
A caption flashed onscreen.
Ling-Ling is expecting twins very soon.
The reporter raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you psychic about people too?’
Joe smiled. ‘Panda twins are very common.’
They watched Ling-Ling chewing on a piece of bamboo, apparently unperturbed by the presence of the keeper.
‘Where’s Daddy panda?’ said Chrissie. ‘In the pub?’
Joe smiled. ‘The males hang around during mating season then take off on their own. Same with elephants.’
Chrissie sighed.
Joe walked towards the front of the crowd. The journalist fell into step.
‘Sorry to hear about your wife. How’s she holding up?’
How did she know about Katie?
‘She’s fine.’
His tone didn’t invite a follow-up but she didn’t seem deterred.
‘What about your son?’
‘What about him?’ said Joe.
She gave a knowing smile. He was struck by the whiteness of her teeth, the redness of her lipstick.
‘I’m the only hack who knows the score. I could have run the story but I haven’t.’
Joe kept walking. ‘Am I supposed to be grateful?’
‘Polite would be nice.’
He stopped and turned, trying to keep an even tone.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s been quite a week.’
The reporter took off her sunglasses and polished them on the hem of her shirt.
‘Your old bosses aren’t saying a thing, except that Katie stepped down for “personal reasons”.’
‘Then how do you know what you claim to know?’
‘I’m nosy,’ said Chrissie. ‘I also work like a dog. And I never take no for an answer.’
Joe smiled. He liked the woman. But where was she getting her tip-offs?
‘You know it’s against the rules to pay a police officer for information?’
The grin made another appearance.
‘Who said anything about “pay”?’ She met his gaze. ‘The stuff about Luke will come out sooner or later. He’ll have to go to court. “Copper’s son in cocaine shock.” Good luck keeping that under wraps.’
‘We’ll jump off that bridge when we come to it,’ said Joe. ‘But as you seem to be sitting on a scoop, I can only assume you’re playing a long game.’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘Maybe you’ve decided I’m worth cultivating.’
‘Are you?’
‘That’s for me to know and you to wonder.’
She sighed. ‘My grandmother used to say that.’
‘Are you saying I’m like your grandmother?’
‘She had more of a moustache.’
Joe smiled. ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me the name of your source at Canterbury nick?’
‘Correct,’ said Chrissie. ‘But I’d love to pick your brains – and the honey badger is buying. Or am I the honey bird…? I never remember.’
As Joe opened his mouth to reply, a scream filled the air. An overweight woman with a pushchair was staring at a sheet of paper that had landed at her feet, blown in by the wind. At first, Joe assumed it was a piece of litter, but he looked up to see a blizzard of paper swirling in the air: scores of sheets of A4 blowing in from somewhere beyond the trees. One landed on a man’s back. A teenage girl saw it and let out a shriek.
‘Oh, my God!’
Suddenly, the clearing was filled with cries of revulsion as the wind brought dozens of flyers fluttering to the ground. Joe caught one as it flew past. On it was a photo of Bella Pennefeather – but not one of the slideshow snaps. Instead, the photo showed the girl’s body, naked and bloodied, dangling from a meat hook next to the carcass of a pig. Her hands were trussed behind her back, her sightless eyes seemed to be gazing directly into the camera.
Even as he recoiled from the sight, Joe became aware of someone on the edge of his peripheral vision. Without turning, he knew the new arrival was the man he’d been searching for.
Raoul Jonas.
The man’s arrival on the fringe of the crowd awoke some form of atavistic instinct. A hunter sniffing the wind. Seeking out prey. Joe watched Jonas reach into his jacket and forage for his mobile. He saw a paperback jutting from the man’s pocket.
Humanity Dick.
He watched the electrician cup his mobile in his palm, holding it low against his hip, surreptitiously videoing the crowd as they reacted with horror to the photos of Bella’s body.
Pinned to Raoul’s T-shirt was a badge.
Progress is not made by reasonable people.
15
‘Sounds like a Benny Hill sketch,’ said Katie. ‘“Doctor, doctor, I’ve come about my Humanity Dick”.’
Joe watched as she sipped her Starbucks. His wife was the only copper he knew who was prepared to pay over the odds for coffee. Most made do with tea from greasy spoons. Although mystified by the coffee epidemic that seemed to have the world in its grip, he couldn’t fault her choice of meeting place. It was nearly five o’clock. Most of Joe’s ex-colleagues would be looking forward to a pint, not cappuccino.
‘I looked him up,’ said Joe. ‘His real name was Richard Martin. He was an MP. King George the Fourth nicknamed him “Humanity Dick”.’
‘Why?’
‘He was responsible for the world’s first animal rights legislation. The Ill Treatment of Horses and Cattle Bill, 1822.’ Joe sipped his tea and peeled the wr
apper from his blueberry muffin. ‘He was also the first to bring a prosecution under his own Act,’ he said. ‘He had a costermonger arrested for beating a donkey in the street. But when the case came to court the magistrates didn’t care about some mangy old donkey – until Martin had it brought into the courtroom so they could see its injuries.’
‘Typical lawyer.’
Joe nodded. ‘It worked. Bill Burns was the first person to be convicted of animal cruelty. Other countries like America and France followed suit, passing animal protection laws. All thanks to Humanity Dick.’
‘And Raoul Jonas is reading his biography?’
‘When he’s not showering people with photos of a dead girl,’ he said. ‘I’m guessing the footage will show up on YouTube any day. But the real question is: how did he get the photo of Bella’s body?’
Katie frowned. ‘This is the bloke she called “creepy”?’
Joe nodded. ‘According to Luke. I’m assuming he told Bryan Messenger?’
Katie chewed the inside of her lip.
‘If not, I’ll make sure he knows. But Luke didn’t tell me, and Messenger’s frozen me out. Feels like I’m being shunted into the sidings.’
Joe studied his wife’s face. The strain was evident. Shadows under her eyes. The new hairstyle had lost its sheen. He’d always been awed by Katie’s ability to take setbacks in her stride but she’d waited patiently for promotion; being forced to stand down from her first major inquiry – derailed by the stupidity of her own son – was a bitter blow. He was tempted to take her hand but held back.
‘Snakes and ladders,’ he said – their code for the vagaries of life. ‘Hills and valleys.’
Katie’s voice was sharp. ‘Any more clichés? You missed out, “This too shall pass”.’ She looked down at her coffee. ‘Sorry.’
Joe bit into his muffin, letting the seconds tick by.
‘The solicitor called,’ said Katie. ‘Sandra Gillespie. She’s making no promises. But she agrees: Luke’s looking at a suspended sentence.’
Joe nodded, chewing a blueberry. He’d spoken to the solicitor at length, satisfying himself that Luke was in good hands.
‘I assume he’s getting the silent treatment from you?’
Your speciality.
Katie gave a wan smile, taking the dig in her stride.
Animal Instinct Page 11