by Ann Purser
T
HIRTY-T
HREE
BLACKBERRY GARDENS HAD BEEN BUILT OVER AN EXisting footpath, and this had caused a great deal of controversy at the time. Petitions from the local ramblers were handed in to a hearing in Tresham Town Hall, objecting to the diversion, but in vain. The inspector hearing the case expressed his sympathy with local people, but said he could see there was a sensible alternative route for the footpath, and this would be easy to establish. It was only a matter of five hundred yards, and would be a reasonable solution. As this new route would pass close behind the proposed new houses, the developers then opposed the solution. Like a tedious game of tennis, the arguments went back and forth until at last the alternative route was approved by all.
Lois remembered all this, as she swung through the gate into the new footpath and began to walk along by the high fence concealing the back gardens of the Blackberry houses. Jeems stopped suddenly with an anxious look on her face and squatted down. Lois fumbled for the scoop-bag she had in her pocket and waited. She looked at the fence and saw a knot hole at eye height. Peering through, she saw that it was the Wallis’s garden and the terriers were stretched out in the sun on scrubby grass. Jeems finished the job and scratched a symbolic cover-up with her hind legs, giving a little yelp of success.
Pandemonium! The terriers were at the fence in an instant, barking ferociously, and now Jeems, safe from attack, stood her ground and joined in with enthusiasm. Lois kept her eye on the knot hole and watched the house. Jeems was pulling at the lead, ready to continue the walk, but Lois held her back. The terriers were still going strong. Surely someone would come and shut them up? But nobody appeared, and Lois was about to move on when she saw a figure appear at the downstairs window. It was a man, and he was familiar. Not big enough for Frances’s husband. He moved away, and as he went Lois saw that it was Reg Abthorpe.
She turned, and dragged Jeems back the way they’d come. “Just a short call to make,” she said to the little dog. “Then we’ll go on with the walk.”
No sign of life as she approached the Wallis’s house, but that was nothing unusual. Lois knocked firmly at the door, and fancied she saw a curtain twitch. To her surprise, the door was opened straight away, and Frances stood there, smiling faintly.
“Hope you don’t mind, Mrs. Wallis,” Lois said casually. “I was on the footpath and thought I saw Mr. Abthorpe.” She judged it best not to mention the knot hole. “If he’s with you,” she continued, “I wonder if I could have a word? It’s just a small point about Mr. Everitt’s house, and I still haven’t got a phone number.” Without it being too obvious, she stood to one side of the doormat, endeavouring to see behind Frances and into the house. But it was dark inside. Net curtains everywhere.
“Oh no, you must have been mistaken,” Frances said, in an unusually firm voice. “I haven’t seen that man since you were here and he burst in on us. Sorry, can’t help,” she added, and began to shut the door. Lois tried desperately to think of something to hold Frances in conversation. But Jeems suddenly began to bark again, this time in real fear. The terriers were at the side gate, and meant business.
Frances laughed, and Lois was amazed at the change in her. “Better get going, Mrs. Meade,” she said. “They’re killers, you know.” The door closed, and Lois beat a hasty retreat.
Back to the footpath, and walking along with a now silent Jeems, Lois wondered if she could have been mistaken. Well, of course she could, but her first impression was very strong. The man had disappeared quickly, but there was something familiar about the way he carried his head, something weasel-like. She thought again of the change in Frances. She had had a boost of confidence from somewhere. Maybe the whiskey bottle, but it seemed unlikely. Perhaps her boorish husband had left her. And perhaps Reg Abthorpe had moved in? But there had been no old red banger outside.
She came out into a big field, where the path went straight across. It was muddy, and she had to concentrate to keep her footing. Here and there, dog excreta had been left, and she had to avoid that too. Once across the field, and into a grassy meadow, she relaxed and let Jeems off the lead. Her thoughts returned to Frances Wallis. The woman had almost laughed at the idea of having Reg Abthorpe in the house. But, hey, wait a minute! What had she said? “I haven’t seen that man since you were here.” So she knew exactly who Lois had meant by Reg Abthorpe. But that proved nothing, except that Frances had been lying when she’d pretended not to have known him before. Lois had been more or less convinced of that anyway. But it was a small step forward, and Lois quickened her pace to keep up with the dog.
THE IRRITATING TUNE ON HER MOBILE STOPPED LOIS just as she was reaching a stile to climb into the next field. She could see bullocks quite near the path, and called Jeems back. “Hello? Lois Meade here,” she said in a businesslike voice.
“Ah, yes, it’s you, Lois.”
Small statement of the obvious, she thought, but replied, “Who else? What do you want? Me and Jeems are just about to be attacked by young bullocks. Can you hear the stampede?”
Cowgill sighed. “That’s not a very original put-down, Lois. Now … Oh, God yes! I can hear them! Run like hell, and ring me back.”
Lois switched off her phone and grinned. She hadn’t told him that she and her dog were on the safe side of the fence, and were stroking the steaming nostrils of the excited young bullocks.
“Calm down,” Lois said, patting one dark-brown animal on the shoulder. They were like the Chargers she remembered from school, bully-boys, all huff and puff, but easily faced. “Still, we’d better go round on the other path,” she said. “Come on, Jeems. This way.”
The path led her along by the side of the village’s sewage works, and the wind was in the wrong direction. “Yuk!” she exploded. “Come on, dog, let’s run.” They scuttled round the corner of the works, and crashed straight into a young couple in a fond embrace.
“Floss! Ben! How could you? Right here by the stink! My God, I know love is supposed to conquer all, but this is ridiculous. Come back with us for a bit until we can breathe.” She led the way, and the lovers followed laughing. They stopped in a small lane that had once been a single rail track, overhung with elder bushes and hawthorn. “Phew! That’s better,” Lois said.
“Did you want to speak to us specially?” said Floss, beginning to feel anxious. It was free time for them both, so surely Mrs. M couldn’t object? They had been well out of sight until she arrived.
“No, just a thought. Might as well ask you now. Well, ask Ben, really. You’re near the Wallis house, aren’t you? I wondered if you’d seen a strange man around their garden recently. It’s just that I still haven’t been able to contact Mr. Everitt’s nephew, but thought I saw him this afternoon in the Wallis’s house.” She was astonished at the reaction. An instant and furtive look passed between them, and Floss coloured.
Ben spoke quickly. “No, no, haven’t noticed anybody. Haven’t seen her awful husband lately, either. You know, the lorry driver who knocks her about. Sorry we can’t help.”
But you could if you wanted to, Lois almost said. The pair were frightened. Frightened of Reg Abthorpe? Instead, she said, “Knocks her about? Is it serious?”
Ben shrugged. “Who knows? Some women like it …” Floss glared at him.
“Yes, well,” said Lois, “you should maybe report him to the police if it sounds serious.”
“Perhaps he’s left her,” Ben replied. “Anyway, Mrs. M, we must get back. Both of us are on duty in half an hour. Floss is at the Hall, and I am going with Enid to those new people in Waltonby.”
Lois nodded. “Fine, off you go, then. Bye.” They almost ran away from her, and were out of sight in minutes. What was all that about? Time for a serious talk with those two, but not dangerously close to the sewage works. Lois looked at her watch, and walked on at speed.
* * *
AS THEY APPROACHED HOME, LOIS REMEMBERED THAT her mother would be out. She had a front door key in her pocket, and opened up.
Jeems was growling, the hair standing up on the back of her neck. “Just a minute, let me get in!” Lois said and stepped over the rumbling dog. She stepped on to something squashy, and jumped back in alarm.
“What the hell?” Then she picked up Jeems and held on tight.
On the mat, stretched out in rigor mortis, was a very dead rat. A big rat, with a snarl on its vicious face.
“THE CAT MUST HAVE BROUGHT IT IN,” DEREK SAID later.
“We haven’t got a cat.” Gran spoke very quietly.
“Melvyn died,” Lois said, staring into space.
“Oh, sod it,” Derek said, taking her hand. “Lois, me duck, what have you been up to?”
T
HIRTY-F
OUR
LOIS WAITED UNTIL NEXT MORNING TO TELEPHONE Cowgill. She had been shocked, and for a short while, frightened. So now she was a target, along with Floss and Ben, and William Cox who had disappeared. Another warning to keep our noses out of whatever was going on, she thought. Well, bugger that! Her anger was rising now, and as she waited for Cowgill to answer, her resolve hardened. Nobody would tell her what to do! She liked old Mr. Everitt, and had still to discover the truth about Cox. No, if she watched her back she was sure all would be well.
“Ah, there you are. What took you so long?”
“Morning, Lois. And difficult as you may find it to believe, I do work pretty hard. Especially now we have a gang of serial rapists and potential abductors of young women on our hands. I expect you’ve seen the news?”
“Yep. Sorry. I take it all back. Under the circs, you probably don’t want to know we’ve had another of them dead animal warnings. Me, this time. A dead rat on the doormat. And no, the cat didn’t bring it in, because Melvyn snuffed it a few weeks ago.”
“A warning to you?” Cowgill had snapped into official mode. “Have they got suspicious, whoever they are?”
“A reasonable deduction,” said Lois acidly. “But that’s not putting me off. Derek is not too pleased, and Gran is terrified, but tough. I’ve got a good idea now who is doing this dirty stuff, and a dead rat’s not stopping me.”
“Who is it, then?” Cowgill saw his hand was trembling at the thought of Lois in danger. You poor sap, he told himself.
“Not telling,” said Lois. “I’ll wait until I’m sure, otherwise you’ll have your boys in hobnail boots blundering in and messing it all up.”
“Lois! May I remind you we are the police, and upholders of the law? It is my duty to follow up any suspicious circumstances, so …”
“But you’re not going to, are you? You trust me by now to choose the right time, surely. So I’ll be in touch, soon, I hope.”
“Lois! Before you slam down the phone, I must insist that you do not attempt anything dangerous, or even risky, but inform me immediately you have some useful evidence.”
“Fine,” said Lois, and put the telephone down as gently as she could.
* * *
WITH AN HOUR TO SPARE BEFORE SHE WAS DUE AT Dallyn Hall, Lois decided to sit down at her computer and surf websites concerning badgers. The reports of badger-baiting cases up before the courts were the most interesting. Young men, mostly, had worked in groups of three or four and were often caught in the act as a result of tip-offs. Lois looked at the fines. Only one of the cases resulted in a prison sentence. The rest were fines ranging from under a hundred pounds to over a thousand. The maximum allowed, she discovered, was £5,000, but found no fines even approaching this. Dogs were sometimes confiscated, and baiters forbidden to keep their own terriers for two or maybe three years. In several cases, the accused had East London addresses, but were arrested in the Midlands.
Derek had come in softly and was standing behind her, and she didn’t have time to switch to some more innocent site. “Found anything?” he said. Lois was surprised. She expected him to blow his top and forbid her to have anything more to do with badgers, dogs, policemen and walking in the woods. But no, he leaned over her shoulder, kissed her cheek, and said, “Mind if I have a butcher’s?”
They sat together for nearly an hour, reading the shocking evidence of cruelty and violence. Policemen were threatened with spades by the baiters, terriers were torn apart by badgers and badgers by terriers. Some dogs got stuck down the badger holes, and were abandoned by their owners, who took off into the night.
“Makes y’ sick, dunnit,” said Derek, sighing deeply. “And it’s a dangerous business to get mixed up in. You can see that for yourself, Lois. Look at that one … revenge on a farmer who’d turned them off his land.”
“Is there money in it? Or just a thirst for blood and the fun of watching creatures suffer?”
Derek shook his head. “Don’t know about money. The other is probably right. But I heard an old bloke in the pub say that they all did it in the old days. And once you’d killed an animal, it was twice as easy the next time. Makes you wonder if it makes it easy to kill, full stop. Like in the war, I suppose.”
Lois shivered. She thought of Herbert Everitt and William Cox, two vulnerable old men disappeared from sight. She wished she could find some hard evidence that would get Cowgill going! “Better stop now,” she said, turning off her computer. “I’m due at Dallyn in twenty minutes. Still, quite a lot to think about, isn’t it.”
Derek nodded, and put his arm around her. “You’re my most treasured possession, so remember what I said,” he whispered in her ear.
She stared at him. “You’ve been reading too many of Gran’s romances! And I’m nobody’s possession, so get yourself back to work, you wally!”
Derek laughed. “That’s my Lois,” he said, and left her office.
ON HIS WAY TO THE JOB HE WAS DOING THE OTHER side of Waltonby, Derek considered badgers. He’d never had much reason to give them a thought before. They were just large striped animals, dead at the side of the road, slowly rotting and eventually consumed by birds and small mammals who scavenged and cleared up the mess.
Now he thought about what he’d seen on Lois’s computer. He knew farmers were able to catch and kill foxes, but badgers were a protected species. He knew about TB infections transmitted to cattle. He’d heard on farming programmes reports of petitions to get government approval to gas the sick badgers, and petitions to stop the licensed cruelty, as it was seen by pro-badger lobbies. But he was an electrician, a good one who knew his job. Badgers were incidental to his life—or had been, until Lois got herself involved.
He passed Cox’s Wood and slowed down. On an impulse he stopped and got out of his van. Stepping into the edge of the wood, he went a few yards and then stood still and listened. Not a sound, except for rustling leaves and birdsong. There must be quite a din when baiting was going on, what with dogs and fighting and encouragement from the tormentors. He turned back. Dark nights with no moon would be the most likely.
FLOSS WAITED FOR LOIS IN THE YARD BEHIND THE hotel. She was looking up at the huge trees surrounding the building, swaying in the brisk wind. “Must have been lovely in the old days,” she said.
“Still on about that? Come on, you’re a young girl with her whole life in front of her. Never mind about the old days,” Lois said, remembering what the old man in the pub had said to Derek about the old days.
They went in through the servants’ entrance and found the Director of Hotel Services waiting for them. There was no smile of welcome. In fact, she frowned and said she’d like a word in her office. Lois bit back a sharp retort, and followed the broad-hipped woman. Stately as a galleon, she thought. She put a reassuring hand on Floss’s arm, and winked at her. The director walked into her office and glanced obviously at the ornate clock on the wall and said, “You’re ten minutes late.”
Lois thought of explaining she had been investigating the torture and massacre of an innocent wild animal, but decided against it. “Sorry about that,” she said. “Unavoidable, I’m afraid, and we shall certainly be working ten minutes later to make up.”
She turned to go, but the director snapped, “That’s
not all!” As she moved behind her desk, her high stiletto heels caught in a Chinese rug, and she stumbled, clutching a stack of CDs stored in a teetering tower. Before Lois could reach her, it had crashed to the floor, scattering the disks.
“Oh, bloody hell!” The director collected herself, and slumped into a chair.
“Don’t worry,” said Floss, clearly suppressing a giggle, “we’ll collect them all up, won’t we, Mrs. M.”
Lois nodded. “Now, we must get on. What else was it you wanted to say?”
“Oh, nothing,” the director replied peevishly. “Just leave me alone, and go and do some work. That’s what you’re paid for.”
Lois took Floss’s hand and drew her away out of the office, carefully shutting the door behind her. She put her finger to her lips, but it was too late. Floss exploded, spluttering and running as fast as she could to get away. In the safety of the Great Hall, full of fake designer lion heads and portraits by the yard, Floss whispered to Lois, “What d’ you think she was going to say when so dramatically interrupted …” The thought set her off again, and Lois shook her head, pointing to a tin of polish and the long coffee table.
“Talk later,” she said, and moved to the far end of the room.
As she continued on her way, cleaning every surface until it shone, and making sure no dropped cigarette ash had gone unnoticed, the same question occupied her thoughts. What was the director going to say? She could have no grounds for complaint about the work itself. Lois knew she inspected everywhere after they’d gone, but she and Floss made sure there were no faults to find. So what, then?
A thought struck her. Could she be in on the disappearances somehow? She didn’t look like a potential badger-baiter, not in those heels. Lois smiled to herself. No, it would have to be something else. Spying? Spying on her? Lois shivered. It was not a pleasant thought, and the snarling rat flashed before her eyes. Well, it was possible, but very unlikely.