Joe thought for a moment. ‘I don’t know.’
It was true: he didn’t.
Chrissie sighed. ‘And even if you did, you wouldn’t tell me.’
‘Not if it might jeopardize the inquiry.’
Chrissie leaned forward. ‘What if we could do swapsies?’
She sounded tipsy. Joe frowned.
‘Define “swapsies”?’
‘Well, you could tell me things you know about him, his family. Stuff about the case. All totally off the record.’ She pushed the olives towards him.
‘What would I get in return?’
Her smile was back. Warm as ever. ‘I’d promise not to break the story about Luke.’
Joe’s hand tightened around the stem of his glass.
‘Are you using my son as a bargaining chip?’
‘That’s not how I see it,’ said Chrissie. ‘But “Police Officer’s Son Sells Drugs to Murdered Blonde” is a legitimate story. And Luke’s over eighteen so he’s…’ She tailed off.
‘“Fair game”?’
Chrissie frowned and topped up his glass.
‘I didn’t mean it to come out so baldly. But my editor’s giving me a hard time.’
‘Does he know?’ said Joe. ‘About Luke?’
She shook her head. ‘But he knows I’m sitting on a story and he’s not a big believer in holding back.’
‘And you are?’
She met his gaze. ‘I like you, Joe. I don’t want to hurt your family.’
‘Then don’t write the story.’
‘I’d be a crappy reporter if I didn’t.’
‘And a crappy person if you did.’
Her smile faltered. ‘I could have run this ages ago. I’ve been through a lot. Divorce. Crappy B&B. Keeping my cool with a sleazebag editor who talks to my tits every time he tells me I’m not earning my keep. I need a proper story. Then I can get a proper job on a proper paper.’
‘And Luke is that story?’
She shook her head. ‘He’s a just bit-player who got caught up in something bigger. But we live in a 24/7 news cycle. The monster must be fed.’
Joe could feel the knot of anger hardening in his gut. He looked at Chrissie’s mobile, sitting on the table.
‘Are you recording this?’
She shot him a look. ‘Now you’re hurting my feelings.’ She picked up her mobile and proffered it to Joe. ‘Want to check?’
He shook his head. ‘This is what’s known as being between a rock and a hard place.’
Chrissie drained her glass. A note of apology entered her voice. ‘I really need this job.’
Joe sighed, considering his options. ‘I’ve nothing to say about Adam,’ he said. ‘Maybe he’s guilty, using me as a smokescreen. Maybe he’s a grieving dad, desperate to find out what happened to his daughter. I don’t know. But I can give you a steer about someone else. On two conditions.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘This is a one-off. No second helpings.’
A cautious nod.
‘What’s number two?’
‘You can’t follow up till I tell you,’ said Joe. ‘This would give you a head start, time to do background research, get your story ready. But no doorstepping the man in question. No talking to friends or family. Nothing that might tip him off. You’ll be ahead of the pack but you don’t write a word till I say so.’
He could see her processing the offer.
‘It’s a deal,’ she said. ‘What do you want in return?’
‘I want to know who’s tipping you off.’
She smiled but said nothing. He persevered.
‘Is it Bryan Messenger?’
Her smile widened. ‘I’m the one with leverage, Joe. All I can promise is that my source won’t blab about Luke. I’m on what you might call an exclusive deal.’
‘Does that mean you’re sleeping with him?’
He was crossing a line but he didn’t care.
‘What makes you so sure it’s a “him”?’
Chrissie’s face creased into a mischievous grin. Joe didn’t smile back. He needed to get out of the pub, but most of all he needed to protect his son.
‘Write this down.’
Chrissie reached for her notebook.
‘Raoul Jonas.’
He watched as she scribbled the name.
‘He’s an electrician at Pennefeather’s. He’s also an anti-zoo fanatic and may be linked to other cases.’
‘Like?’
‘I can’t tell you that.’
‘What can you tell me?’
Joe leaned forward. He lowered his voice.
‘Never trust a honey badger.’ He pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘Enjoy the wine.’
Heading for the exit his eye was drawn towards a familiar figure. Luke was at the bar, reading a book as the barmaid pulled a pint of Pennefeather’s bitter. Joe walked over.
‘You OK?’
Luke closed his book and placed it on the bar.
‘Fine,’ he said. No trace of a smile. ‘They’re hiring staff. Just having a pint before I talk to the landlord.’ He nodded towards a man in a red waistcoat.
‘Good luck,’ said Joe. ‘Have you recovered from yesterday?’
Luke nodded. ‘It was like the dentist. The worst part was the anticipation.’
Joe gave half a smile. Torn between his need to get away from Chrissie and his desire to talk to his son.
‘I left messages,’ he said. ‘Wanted to see how you were doing.’
‘Been busy.’
‘Did you talk to the solicitor?’
Luke shook his head. ‘Tomorrow.’
‘Want me to come with you?’
Another shake of the head. ‘I’d rather go on my own.’
Still no sign of a smile.
Joe was accustomed to stilted conversations with his son, to a feeling of disconnect, but there was something doubly awkward in Luke’s demeanour, something close to hostility.
‘I didn’t know this was one of your haunts,’ he said.
Luke cast a glance over Joe’s shoulder. His voice took on an edge.
‘That’s pretty obvious.’
Joe followed his son’s gaze. Chrissie was still at the table, poring over her mobile.
‘I get it,’ said Luke, ‘“Just good friends”, right?’
Joe met his son’s gaze. ‘She’s a journalist.’
‘Looks like a very friendly one,’ said Luke. He sipped his beer. ‘Still, if Mum can do it, why can’t you?’
Joe narrowed his eyes. ‘Meaning?’
A shrug. ‘Ask her, not me.’
Joe saw the landlord heading their way.
‘Luke?’ said the man in the waistcoat. ‘Want to come have a chat?’
Luke turned to his father.
‘No need to wait,’ he said. ‘I’m busy later.’
He turned and followed the landlord.
Joe called after him. ‘You’ve left your book.’
He picked up the paperback, his stomach lurching as he saw the title.
Nothing With A Face: a militant approach to meat as murder.
Luke retraced his steps, holding out his hand for the book. Joe tried to keep his voice steady.
‘Not exactly Harry Potter?’
Luke didn’t smile. ‘It’s no joke, Dad.’
He picked up the book and walked away.
17
Joe made his way along the avenue of trees. He could hear the elephants trumpeting in the distance and guessed they were reacting to the arrival of food, served up by Tom Lycett and the other keepers.
As a teenage volunteer working alongside Adam, Joe had spent many hours shovelling elephant dung. He recalled a conversation with Adam’s father, the eccentric brewing magnate who had started the wildlife park in the 1950s and who relished getting his hands dirty – feeding the animals and cleaning the enclosures.
‘If I spend two hours a day scooping up elephant dung,’ Joe told Pennefeather Snr, ‘and if I work here for twent
y-five years, that adds up to eighteen thousand hours of shit.’
Adam’s father had smiled.
‘You come across all kinds of crap in life, but elephant shit is the sweetest-smelling you’ll find.’
Emerging into the clearing, Joe sat on a bench in front of the Panda-cam screen. No one in sight, only the wind in the trees to disturb the silence. He had spotted a handful of visitors on his trek from the house but apart from Lycett and the other keepers the wildlife park was almost deserted. People were scared. Why risk a day at the zoo only to be bombarded with pictures of dead women?
On the giant screen, the pregnant panda was propped against a playground slide, hind legs splayed in the air, munching contentedly on bamboo cane. Behind her, three cubs appeared on the grassy ledge above the slide then slithered down the chute, tumbling over each other as they hit the ground. Ling-Ling ignored the youngsters, concentrating on her stick of bamboo.
Joe watched for a while then reached into his pocket for Raoul Jonas’s animal rights manifesto and began to read.
Dear Animal Lover,
Zoos have been in busness since the 18th century, tormennting animals in the name of entertainment. Todays zoo owners say its all about education and conservation. Thanks to pressure from the public they’ve got rid of the bare cages and concreet floors that used to be comonplace replacing them with so-called ‘natural habitats’ which are suposed to ressemble conditions in the wild.
THIS RESSEMBLENCE IS TOTALY SUPERFICAL! THEIR IS NO SUCH THING AS A MANMADE NATURAL HABITAT! Zoo owners want us to think we are seeing life ‘in the wild’. NOTHING COULD BE FUTHER FROM THE TRUTH! Zoo animals have no preddators, cant hunt and rely on humans for food. Consider this. A zoo animal is:
Depprived of freedom and dignity.
Depprived of it’s natural social structure and compannionship.
Often becomes bored and depressed.
Captive breeding programs are fig leafs used to justify the apaling and inhumane ill treatment of animals.
Zoos cannot keep a large enough number of any species to provide a suficiently varied gene pool for that species to breed without problems.
Few animals bred in captivity stand a chance of being released into the wild.
Zoos are unnatural and imoral forcing animals into an existance designed soley for ENTERTAINMENT AND PROFIT!
One day the world will be rid of zoos and their GREEDY OWNERS. That day is coming. ZOO OWNERS – THE END IS NIGH!
The poorly spelled tirade was signed Raoul Jonas the animal’s freind. Joe pocketed the document again and considered its contents.
There were reasonable arguments on both sides, of course, and the animals at Pennefeather’s were well looked-after, but there was something disturbing about animals behind bars. Fifty years hence, would there be any creatures in captivity? Would future generations look back on Pennefeather’s with disgust, the way people recoiled from eighteenth-century ‘attractions’ such as Bedlam? Perhaps zoos themselves were an endangered species.
As for Luke’s reading matter – Nothing With A Face – Joe was troubled. Not by his son’s newfound conscience (it was a rare carnivore who had never been unnerved by the sight of a bloody steak on a plate) but by the possibility that Luke was part of the Meat Is Murder militant fraternity. Where was he getting his ideas? How extremist was his thinking?
His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Adam and Felix.
‘I see you’ve fallen for Ling-Ling,’ said Adam. He took a seat and motioned towards the Panda-cam screen. ‘It means “darling girl” in Chinese. She’ll give birth any day but no one will be here to see it.’
Joe said nothing.
‘Turns out there is such a thing as bad publicity,’ said Felix. The lawyer wore a cream linen suit and blue silk shirt open at the neck. Once again, Joe detected a hint of citrus aftershave.
‘What do the police say?’ he said.
‘Inside job,’ said Adam. Two leaves swirled down from a tree and landed on his sleeve. Brushing them away, Joe caught a glimpse of the scars on the man’s wrist, fading, but a reminder of the events of the previous week. ‘They think whoever bombarded us with those photos left them on the ele house roof, and the wind did the rest.’
Joe nodded but said nothing. He visualized Raoul sneaking onto the roof with the flyers then hurrying down to video the uproar. He’d found no trace of the footage on YouTube.
Yet.
A copy of Kent Today rested on Felix’s lap. The front page splash was by Chrissie McBride.
Pennefeather’s Horror Show.
‘I’ve no idea what this bloody woman has against me,’ said Adam, tapping the reporter’s byline photo, ‘but she’s like a dog with a bone.’
The man hadn’t shaved for days. Silver-grey bristles added to his haggard appearance. He twisted the signet ring on his finger.
Felix turned to Joe. ‘Have you come across Chrissie McBride?’
‘Yes,’ said Joe.
‘She blagged her way in here yesterday,’ said Adam. ‘Full of Aussie charm and phoney sympathy, saying she wanted to write about “the real Bella”, to help the investigation. Then she treats me like I’m Jack the bloody Ripper.’
Joe wondered why Chrissie hadn’t mentioned the interview with Adam. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘What did she say, exactly?’
Adam gave a dismissive wave of his hand.
‘Impertinent questions. Why do I collect things to do with death? Am I into pornography. Did I…?’ He tailed off.
‘Did you what?’
‘Did I fiddle about with Bella when she was little.’
Joe’s eyes widened. ‘She asked if you abused your daughter?’
Adam’s face creased with disgust. He shook his head, as if trying to erase the memory.
‘Not in so many words but that’s what she was implying. It’s as though she’s got a grudge against me, waging a vendetta.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I told her if she printed a word implying that I’d laid a finger on Bella I’d sue her to kingdom come.’
Felix nodded in agreement. ‘I sent a stiff letter to her editor.’ He gestured to Chrissie’s article. ‘Seems to have done the trick. For now.’
Joe looked up at the Panda-cam screen. Ling-Ling had finished her bamboo breakfast and was loping towards the lake, leaving the cubs frolicking on the slide.
Joe chose his words carefully. ‘What about Chrissie’s other questions?’
Adam’s jaw tightened. ‘You mean, do I use pornography?’
‘There’s porn and there’s porn,’ said Joe. ‘If the police found anything on your computer is it likely to be a problem?’
‘You mean, am I a paedophile?’
‘That’s not what I said.’
‘But it’s what you mean.’
Joe stifled his growing sense of irritation. ‘I’m trying to find out what happened to Bella. It would help to have an idea what the police are thinking, to know what they might find on your computer. I can’t just pick up the phone.’
Adam’s eyes flickered towards Felix then back to Joe.
‘Isn’t your wife still in the loop?’
For the first time since Elephant Boy had asked for help, Joe wondered if he was being played for a fool. Did Adam and Felix need him on side to keep tabs on police thinking?
‘Katie has moved on to other cases. Even if she’s keeping an eye on this inquiry she won’t confide in me.’
Adam cleared his throat and lowered his gaze. Embarrassed.
‘Isobel is a wonderful wife – in every way except one.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you catch my drift?”
‘Sex?’
A nod. Adam continued. ‘I’ve never been one for affairs or ladies of the night, or what they used to call blue movies, but I do occasionally look at soft porn.’
Felix turned to Joe. Keen to clarify.
‘We’re talking about the kind of thing you find on the top shelf, not stuff you
read about in the tabloids. If the police found anything on Adam’s computer, we’re not going to lose any sleep over it.’
‘Understood,’ said Joe.
‘As for “fiddling” with Bella,’ said Adam, ‘if a hack chooses to regurgitate fantasies from Bella’s so-called diary – lies and forgeries which someone tried to pass off as a cry for help – then I may as well crawl away and die.’
‘Why?’ said Joe.
You said you had nothing to hide.
‘You know what people are like,’ said Adam. He mimicked a nasal whine. ‘“I always thought there was something odd about old Pennefeather. Nice enough bloke but always a bit peculiar…”’
He broke off, looking over Joe’s shoulder. Joe turned to see Saffron waddling towards them, her arms resting on her pregnant belly, her long blonde hair trailing in the breeze. She was followed by Liam.
‘The police are here,’ she said.
Adam got to his feet. ‘Any news?’
‘They’re taking someone else in for questioning,’ said the Irishman. ‘The one Saffron calls “Mr Creepy”.’
Adam’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Raoul Jonas?’
Saffron nodded. ‘I’ve never even spoken to him,’ she said. ‘Who is he?’
‘The electrician,’ said Adam. ‘He seemed to know what he was talking about so I took him on. Said he was having hospital treatment so he’d only be able to work part-time.’
‘Did you check him out?’ said Liam. ‘Did he give you references?’
‘I doubt it. He’s a handyman not a keeper.’
Liam frowned. ‘So no DBS check?’
Adam looked mystified. ‘Why? He was only an electrician.’
O’Mara sighed. ‘We never hire at Planet Pizza without a Disclosure and Barring Service check. Not even to wash up.’
Adam blew out his cheeks. ‘Well, I never saw Jonas with Bella. I never even heard her mention his name. Why in God’s name would he…?’
Saffron laid a hand on her father’s shoulder.
‘Don’t get worked up. They’ve taken him to the police station, like they did with you. It could mean anything.’
‘DI Messenger is at the house with Isobel,’ said Liam. ‘He wants to see you.’
Taking her father’s arm, Saffron steered him towards the mansion. Felix followed. Joe and Liam brought up the rear.
Animal Instinct Page 13