Animal Instinct

by Animal Instinct (retail) (epub)

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  Her voice was a rasp. ‘Adam’s dead. How do you think I’m feeling?’

  There was no mention of Bella. She reached out and took Joe’s hand. Her palm was clammy, her speech slurred.

  ‘Don’t let my brother have me sectioned.’

  Joe frowned. ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘Because the old queen hates me. Always has. He tried to turn Adam against me. The girls too. He wants me locked up again. Says it’s for my own protection but he’s full of crap.’

  Her fingernails dug into Joe’s skin. Glancing down, he saw that what he’d taken for nail varnish was paint.

  Post-box red.

  Vermilion.

  An image flashed into his mind. The I love cock graffiti daubed on Felix’s car. In red paint.

  Isobel struggled into a sitting position, her hand clasping his wrist.

  ‘My husband didn’t kill himself. He would never have left me. And he didn’t lay a finger on our girls – either of them.’

  Joe loosened her grip on his wrist. Outside, a floorboard creaked.

  ‘What triggered your panic attack?’

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. He persevered.

  ‘The pandas?’

  The woman ignored his question.

  ‘Don’t let Felix put me away. Her eyes remained closed. ‘He’s a lawyer. He has ways.’

  She sank back onto the cushion and began to breathe heavily. Then she put her hand into the pocket of her tracksuit and pulled out a piece of paper. It was the Panda-cam leaflet, inviting visitors to suggest names for the new arrivals. Isobel handed it to Joe.

  ‘For the boy,’ she said.

  Joe scanned the leaflet.

  Suggest a name for the baby panda. If yours is chosen, you could win a year’s free admission to Pennefeather’s.

  In the space underneath the printed copy Isobel had written a name.

  Gabriel.

  Joe looked at the woman’s face. Exhausted by the panic attack, she had fallen asleep. He pocketed the leaflet then got to his feet. Careful not to make a sound, he walked across the room and opened the door.

  No sign of eavesdroppers but a faint whiff of citrus hung in the air. Peering down the corridor, he glimpsed two figures disappearing around a corner, heading in the direction of the hall.

  One was Felix Goodchild.

  The other was Tom Lycett.

  27

  Joe found the men on the sun-baked terrace, under the giant oak that shaded the rolling lawns of Pennefeather Hall. Bees hovered around well-tended flowerbeds, the gentle buzzing lending a soporific quality to the late-summer afternoon.

  Felix sat at a wrought iron table, scanning Chrissie’s latest article on the arrest of Raoul Jonas. Tom stood at his side, pouring lemonade from an earthenware jug. If the two had fallen out over the ele keeper’s ‘fuck-buddy’ relationship with Bella, they appeared to have resolved their spat. No sign of lingering animosity.

  ‘How’s Isobel?’ said Tom. He proffered a glass to Joe.

  ‘Recovering.’

  Joe sipped the drink.

  ‘Liam and Saffron have taken her to her bedroom. She seemed agitated.’ He turned to Felix. ‘Worried that someone might be planning to have her committed.’

  Felix didn’t look up from the newspaper.

  ‘I take it you mean me.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Joe.

  He watched as the dapper lawyer took off his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair. The man’s tone was waspish.

  ‘My sister decided long ago that the sole purpose of my existence was to ruin her life.’

  Joe thought back to his conversation with Saffron and her husband.

  ‘I gather you’re no strangers to sibling rivalry.’

  Lycett sat at the table.

  ‘You know she tried to kill Felix? When he was a baby?’

  Joe nodded. ‘More than once, I heard.’

  ‘So people say,’ said Felix. He sighed. ‘I was too young to know anything about it but it’s part of family folklore. A joke, really. Izzy was only little, after all. But I suppose there must have been some underlying malice.’ He loosened his tie and unfastened the top button of his shirt. ‘I ruined her idyll.’ He gave a small cough. ‘And then there was the small matter of killing my mother.’

  Joe blinked. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘She died giving birth to me. Thromboembolism. A blood clot to you and me.’

  ‘And Isobel held that against you?’

  A nod. ‘She took great pleasure in never speaking to me unless it was unavoidable. When we were growing up, it was as if I were invisible. She’d walk into a room or sit opposite me at dinner and look through me as if I didn’t exist. Her way of coping, I suppose.’

  ‘Coping with what?’

  ‘No longer being the centre of my father’s universe.’

  Felix gave a tight smile.

  ‘Izzy worshipped the ground he walked on. She never got used to the fact he was a man who longed for a son. A “mere girl” wouldn’t do.’

  ‘But you and she rub along OK now?’

  Felix shook his head. The ice tinkled in his glass.

  ‘Only on the surface. The day she left home she cut off all contact. Not even a card at Christmas. We’d have no choice but to meet on family occasions, like Pa’s birthday, but it would always be the same charade. “Hello, Izzy, how’s tricks?” She’d mumble a couple of syllables then ignore me.’ He took a sip of lemonade. ‘She only invited me to her wedding because he refused to cough up unless I was on the guest list.’ He cleared his throat. ‘But the day she married Adam – that was when she began to thaw towards me, just a little.’

  ‘Why?’ said Joe.

  Felix put down his glass then unbuttoned his cuffs and folded back his shirtsleeves.

  ‘Because he and I got on well. He asked me to do some legal work for him, when his father died – probate stuff – then he started to put more and more business my way: estate management, investments, tax affairs, that sort of thing. He trusted me and I liked him. He was a traditionalist when it came to marriage. Not the type to let wifey wear the trousers. Poor Izzy had to grin and bear it.’

  ‘Was it a happy marriage?’

  Felix sighed.

  ‘I handle many divorces, Joe. It’s hard to stay rose-tinted.’

  ‘Would you describe your sister as a contented woman?’

  Felix thought for a moment.

  ‘Mostly. She went AWOL a few times, a couple of years ago. Not for long – a day here, a day there. I called it her “Greta Garbo phase”.’

  ‘Why Greta Garbo?’ said Joe.

  ‘She said she wanted to be alone. Rather dramatic, I thought. Adam never mentioned it, but maybe she was playing away from home.’

  Joe raised an eyebrow. ‘An affair?’

  Felix shrugged. ‘It’s possible. I wouldn’t put it more strongly than that.’

  Joe could feel a trickle of sweat running down his back. He moved his chair into the shade.

  ‘You were Adam’s solicitor,’ he said. ‘I assume the police asked about his will?’

  Felix gave a nod. ‘But I’m an executor so I didn’t actually draw it up. He had it done by a firm in London, to avoid a conflict of interest.’

  ‘I assume he told you the contents?’

  The lawyer gave a sideways smile. ‘Is that your way of asking what’s in his will?’

  ‘Would you rather I didn’t?’

  Joe could see the man weighing his answer.

  ‘There was nothing remarkable,’ he said. ‘Bequests for the girls, of course. He didn’t have time to make a new will after Bella died. There are bequests to animal charities; a trust to keep this place going – the house and the wildlife park – but the bulk of the estate goes to my sister.’

  He glanced at the house, his eye caught by movement on an upper floor. Joe followed his gaze and saw a face staring out of a third-floor window. Isobel. Pale. Gaunt. Saffron a
ppeared at her side and drew her away. Then the curtains were drawn.

  Joe turned to the lawyer.

  ‘What about the graffiti on your car? Might Isobel have had anything to do with it?’

  The question seemed to take Felix by surprise but Tom Lycett’s eyes lit up.

  ‘I had a feeling it was her.’

  ‘I can’t be certain,’ said Joe, ‘but she has red stuff under her fingernails. I’m pretty sure it’s a match for the paint on your car. And if she’s always been antagonistic towards you—’

  Felix interrupted. ‘“Antagonistic” doesn’t begin to describe it.’

  ‘She’s deeply homophobic,’ said Lycett. ‘She’s hated your guts since the day you were born.’

  Felix gave an impatient shake of his head.

  ‘We’re losing sight of what matters: Bella and Adam.’ He gestured to the headline in Kent Today. ‘This man Jonas,’ he said. ‘Is he the one?’

  ‘The police seem to think so,’ said Joe.

  Felix studied the photo of Raoul.

  ‘I can’t say the man made much of an impression.’ He showed the paper to Tom. ‘Do you know him?’

  The keeper shook his head. ‘I’m not sure I ever spoke to him.’

  Felix turned to Joe. ‘Do they think he killed Adam too?’

  ‘Hard to say,’ said Joe. ‘What do you think happened?’

  ‘I know Adam was depressed,’ said Felix. ‘And devastated by what happened to Bella. We had a few whiskies. He got pretty maudlin about Gabriel too.’ He looked at Joe, shielding his eyes against the afternoon sun. ‘You remember Gabriel? The skeleton in our family closet?’

  Joe nodded, recalling the bronze plaque under the chestnut tree.

  ‘I know Isobel was depressed after he was born,’ he said. ‘She was diagnosed with post-partum psychosis.’

  Felix gave a nod. ‘Did you know he was put up for adoption?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Joe. ‘And he died in a motorcycle accident.’

  Felix sipped his lemonade.

  ‘He was cast out from Eden while Saffron and Bella had it all.’ He waved a manicured hand towards the sweeping lawns that led to the ornamental lake and acres of parkland. ‘Talk about the short straw.’

  ‘Did Adam feel guilty about Gabriel?’ said Joe.

  ‘Of course,’ said Felix. ‘But if he hadn’t acted as he did, Isobel’s psychosis would have ended in tragedy for Gabriel and seen her sent to prison. The poor man was between a rock and a hard place. But he was determined to do whatever was necessary to keep the family together.’

  Joe narrowed his eyes.

  ‘How did he square that with abandoning his son?’ he said. ‘How does anyone give away a child?’

  Felix’s brow furrowed.

  ‘It was Hobson’s choice,’ he said. ‘Adam and I looked after Saffron while Izzy was in the loony bin. We came to the conclusion that putting Gabriel up for adoption was the worst possible solution, apart from all the others.’ He turned to look Joe in the eye. ‘She left the baby in the snow,’ he said. ‘Not once, Joe, not twice, three times. Adam and I had no doubt she’d have done it again, given half a chance.’ He ran a hand across his head, as if trying to smooth away the memories. ‘I’m not saying she was wicked but she was certainly ill. She needed help, protection from herself. And Gabriel needed protecting from her.’ He ran a finger around the rim of his glass. ‘Walk a mile in Adam’s shoes: your wife is unstable. She neglects your son in such a way that could lead to his death and see her locked up. At the same time, there’s Saffron, a little girl who needs her mother to get well. What would you do?’

  Joe sidestepped the question. ‘What about obtaining Isobel’s consent?’ he said. ‘Surely she had to agree to her child being put up for adoption?’

  Felix met Joe’s gaze.

  ‘She did,’ he said. ‘And this was before she was certified so she can’t pretend it was all Adam’s doing. Or mine.’ He looked away, unable to meet Joe’s gaze. ‘It’s very complicated yet very simple. My sister believes I ruined her life. She desperately didn’t want a boy-baby to ruin it again.’ He lapsed into silence. Joe became aware of the birdsong in the trees, the humming of the bees.

  ‘And afterwards?’ he said. ‘When she recovered? When she realized Gabriel was gone for good?’

  Felix gave a mirthless laugh. ‘You mean, apart from sinking into an ocean of pills, booze and denial?’ He downed the last of his lemonade and set the glass on the table. ‘It was as though Gabriel never existed. He’s the great taboo in this family. Never mind Kashka, Samson and the others, Gabriel was our very own elephant in the room. Bella wasn’t allowed to mention his name. Neither is Saffron. Not allowed to talk about her dead brother in case she sets off a panic attack, can you imagine?’

  ‘How does she handle it?’ said Joe.

  ‘Denial, mainly. She won’t go near the plaque Adam erected,’ said Felix. ‘That’s where Gabriel’s ashes are scattered. Someone sent them in a box.’

  A frowned creased Joe’s brow.

  ‘Are you sure no one knows who sent them?’

  Felix gave a shrug. ‘Adam never said. I assume it was something to do with the adoption agency – whoever had the relevant contact details.’

  He traced a finger down the frosted glass.

  ‘Why do you think Isobel had such an adverse reaction to Ling-Ling’s cubs?’ said Joe.

  Lycett leaned back in his chair.

  ‘Are you suggesting some sort of Pavlovian reaction? Isn’t that rather far-fetched?’

  ‘The panic attack didn’t come from nowhere.’

  Felix shrugged. ‘The workings of my sister’s mind are a mystery. As for Adam, if you want my opinion, it wasn’t one thing that pushed him over the edge, it was a host of factors. Depression. Guilt. Remorse over what happened to Gabriel. The death of Bella. Slurs against his character. Innuendo in the press.’ He jabbed a finger at Kent Today. ‘Wretched hacks.’ He pointed to Chrissie’s byline photo. ‘Will they be called to account? No. They’ll just move on to the next story, trample on more lives. Legal threats only make matters worse. It’s like they say: “The dogs bark and the caravan moves on.”’ He glanced at his watch then stood up. ‘I need to get to the office.’

  He took his jacket from the back of the chair. Tom got to his feet.

  ‘And I’ve got shit to shovel and volunteers to whip into shape.’

  Felix retied his tie and donned his jacket.

  ‘I don’t suppose we’ll be seeing much of you now they’ve arrested Jonas.’ The lawyer proffered his hand. ‘I know Adam was grateful for all you tried to do. Will you send me your invoice?’ Joe stood and shook the man’s hand.

  ‘There’s no invoice,’ he said. ‘But I might stick around for a while, if you don’t think your sister would mind?’

  Felix looked nonplussed but could hardly object.

  ‘Not at all,’ he said, glancing at Isobel’s window then turning to gaze at the gardens of Pennefeather Hall. ‘It’s a lovely spot. Enjoy it.’

  * * *

  After the men had gone, Joe drank another glass of lemonade while reading the story on Raoul Jonas. He folded the paper in two, in order to hide the photo of Hugh Duffy, then decided he was being petty and spread it on the table.

  Chrissie’s article contained little he didn’t know. There was no mention of Jonas’s illness. No reference to the man’s son, Sammy. Joe searched in vain for a comment from Bryan Messenger (the DI would be eager to claim credit for such a high-profile collar, especially on the eve of retirement) but the only quote came from his second in command.

  ‘There’s still a way to go with this investigation,’ Detective Sergeant Hugh Duffy told Kent Today, ‘but we have every confidence that the inquiry is continuing to move in the right direction and that the killer of Bella Pennefeather will be brought to justice.’

  Joe was puzzled by the absence of any comment from the senior investigating officer, especially as Messenger was top of Joe’s list of likely sou
rces. Perhaps the DI had been too busy to speak to her, or maybe she hadn’t been able to contact him before her deadline. Either way, Detective Sergeant Duffy was clearly not averse to a turn in the limelight.

  Joe flipped through his notebook, reviewing observations he’d recorded since Adam’s first visit to the shack. When it came to the murder of Bella, there could be little doubt that the evidence against Raoul Jonas was damning. At the same time, there was something about the man’s anti-zoo agenda that didn’t ring true.

  Then there was the lingering question of the rogue full stop in Bella’s iPhone diary. And on Adam’s so-called suicide note. Could there really be much significance in such a detail, or was Duffy right to dismiss Joe as a pedant?

  The punctuation police.

  He flicked through the notes he’d made after visiting Duwayne Speed. The man had talked candidly about the abuse he and Raoul had suffered at the hands of Carl Muxworthy and ‘the uncles’. He’d also been open about the brutal punishment meted out to the youth worker by the other member of the teenage gang, the boy known only as Spider.

  But hadn’t Duwayne told Chrissie that Spider was dead?

  If so, what did Raoul mean in his letter to Sammy?

  Spider will watch out for you when I’m gone.

  Joe pocketed his notebook and finished his lemonade. He looked up at Isobel’s window. The curtains were drawn. Getting to his feet, he heard a car in the distance, the crunch of tyres on the gravel outside the mansion. The sound receded as Joe crossed the terrace, making his way to the front of the house.

  There was no sign of Liam’s red Mercedes – PI22A. Perhaps he and Saffron had gone into the village or returned to London. But surely they wouldn’t have left Isobel alone, not after all she’d been through?

  Joe walked to the rear of the house and tried the back door. It was on the latch. He considered his options. He could drive back to Dungeness, leaving the official investigation to tie up loose ends and answer the remaining doubts, or he could keep his promise to Adam and finish what he’d started.