by John Dean
‘And James Thornycroft, was he a good guy?’ asked Gallagher.
‘He was then,’ nodded Garratt. ‘He was the charity’s vet when I first came across him. All very idealistic, kept talking about paying his debt to society.’
‘And you weren’t?’ asked Harris.
‘I suspect my debt to society is rather bigger than anyone could pay for,’ said Garratt. ‘In fact, if you allow me to continue, you will see just how big the price will be when we get to it.’
Harris glanced at Gallagher, who shrugged.
‘Anyway,’ continued Garratt, ‘it did not take long to turn Meredith and Thoryncroft so that they saw things my way. See, they have always had the same weakness as the rest of us.’
Garratt rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.
‘You can have as many ideals as you want but money talks louder than all of them,’ he said.
‘I am afraid you may be right,’ said Harris darkly. ‘What happened then?’
‘Well, as I said, I had never been into all this noble saving the animals shite. There were plenty of rich people with more money than sense who fancied an exotic animal in their back garden and that’s what interested me. I hooked up with a couple of dodgy characters, an Aussie and an American, who reckoned they could get them out of Africa: they had good contacts with a bent port manager. Turned a blind eye to what we were doing in exchange for a few readies. However, I still needed someone to source the animals in the first place. When I approached Meredith, he was horrified at what I was suggesting, but it did not take him long to come round to our way of thinking. Blame his little weakness, if you like.’
‘His gambling?’
‘Yeah, his gambling. He used to play with a bunch of ex-pats, sharks the lot of them, and had got himself deeper and deeper into debt. After a few days’ thinking it over, he asked if he could come in with us. I knew he would.’
‘And Thornycroft?’
‘He was just a greedy bastard. Once Meredith showed him what kind of figures we were talking about, he fell in line. It was not difficult, mind: old man Rylance paid them both a pittance. I was delighted when he agreed to join us: we needed someone who could anaesthetize the animals before shipping them out.’
Harris shook his head, fighting down the rising tide of nausea and anger that he was feeling.
‘Anyway,’ said Garratt, ‘old man Rylance was a bit of a fool so it was easy to hoodwink him. Meredith still found monkeys for him but for every one he handed over to Rylance, we exported another six. It was good money and in time we moved on to other animals as well. Developed a network of people and expanded into East Africa, which was very good for us, recruited a couple of crooked wildlife rangers to help us. Cheetahs and other big cats were big earners for us. We must have shipped a good dozen out.’
‘But how the hell do you smuggle one of those out?’ exclaimed Gallagher.
‘You take the cubs. The sheiks love them, let them roam around the house. They see them as a status symbol. Nice house, big motor, cheetah sitting on the drinks cabinet.’
Harris shook his head in disgust.
‘You may look like that, Inspector,’ said Garratt. ‘I know you like spouting off about your beloved animals, but to us, it was about cash and nothing else. Everything has its price. Always has had and always will. That’s the kind of world we live in. Simple as. And if it had continued, we would all have been very rich men, indeed.’
‘But it didn’t?’ asked Gallagher.
‘No, someone tipped off the Zairean police and they raided our homes one night. Didn’t find anything, we were always very careful, and we paid them off, of course, but Thornycroft got scared. Next thing I know, he’s done a runner and left the country. Always was a weak-willed man was our James.’
‘And Meredith?’
‘Oh, he was all for continuing.’
‘But surely he came home at around that time as well?’ said Harris. ‘He turned up in Levton Bridge around then.’
‘Yeah, he did. See, a few weeks later, we got this approach from a guy working for a group of Saudis. Starts talking about gorillas, did we know where to find a breeding pair? Says his client, some oil-rich Arab, wanted them for his private zoo. Show them off to his friends. Well, Meredith knew better than most where to find them in Zaire.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ exclaimed Harris, ‘do you know how endangered those things are?’
‘Too right I do – why do you think the price was so high?’
Harris resisted the temptation to jump across the table and strike him.
‘Anyhow,’ said Garratt, ‘Meredith sorts everything out and delivers the animals to the middle man. Trouble is, the guy botches up the shipping side of things and one of the bloody things died on the way over.’
‘And the other one?’ asked Harris bleakly.
‘Died a few days after getting there.’
The inspector bit his lip but said nothing.
‘After the second one died,’ continued Garratt, ‘we got word that the Saudi had sent a couple of heavies to find us. Wanted his money back. Who can blame him – damaged goods, weren’t they? Meredith got frightened and fled the country. He always had a yellow streak.’
‘And you?’
‘Laid low till it was all over. Africa is a big continent, Chief Inspector, easy for a man to disappear in. I only went back to Zaire a few years later. Trouble is, I got involved in an unfortunate incident.’
‘Unfortunate for Donald Rylance, you mean,’ said Harris. ‘Apparently, you put a bullet in his skull.’
‘Yeah, a miscalculation. I reckoned everything would have long blown over but the daft old bastard confronted me about the gorillas – said he was going to tell the police. I went round to remonstrate and things got out of hand. You know the rest. I didn’t mean to shoot him, just turned out that way. It was an accident.’
‘You seem to have a lot of accidents,’ said Harris. ‘But if you are telling the truth and you did not mean to kill him, why did you not turn yourself in and explain it to the local police?’
‘You ever been in a Congolese prison, Mr Harris?’ said Garratt.
Harris shook his head.
‘If you had,’ said Garratt, ‘you would understand why I left Africa after Rylance died. Travelled round a bit, then a year ago I came back here, hooked up with Meredith and we started off again.’
‘Doing what? The same thing?’
‘Yeah, all sorts. Rare birds, caymans, exotic insects for the pet trade. Meredith’s brother runs a pet shop in Blackpool, he helped us make some good contacts. Like I said, Inspector, money always talks. We did bigger stuff for private collectors as well. Brought a couple of cheetah cubs in for a bloke in Birmingham last month. He’s keeping them in his back garden.’
‘I find this difficult to believe,’ said Harris with a shake of the head. ‘I mean, you are clearly as crooked as they come …’
‘So kind,’ murmured Garratt.
‘… but everything we have heard suggests that Trevor Meredith had put all that behind him. Taken up with a nice young girl, getting married, a decent job.’
‘Do you know much that dog place pays him?’ asked Garratt.
‘Not much, I imagine.’
‘Exactly, and him with a wedding to pay for. Jasmine had already said she wanted the reception at Ings Hall.’
‘Jeez,’ said Gallagher, ‘that’s the most expensive hotel around. When me and Julie decided to get married, we checked the place out and it would have cost us the thick end of seven grand. Jasmine Riley clearly has expensive tastes.’
‘Indeed she has,’ nodded Garratt. ‘Trevor told her it was too much but she was adamant, trotted out the “biggest day of her life” nonsense and turned on the waterworks so they booked it. Put simply, Trevor Meredith was short of cash and a man who’s short of cash….’
He did not finish the sentence, everyone knew what he meant.
‘Did Jasmine not wonder where the money was coming from?’ asked
Harris.
‘He told her that an uncle had died. To be honest, he could have told her that aliens had deposited it in his bank account and she would have believed it. All she wanted was her dream wedding day. Of course, once he realized that no one would doubt where his money came from, he realized that he could keep on trading in the animals without anyone asking much in the way of questions.’
‘And Thornycroft,’ asked Gallagher, ‘I take it that he was involved in your little scam as well?’
‘That was Meredith’s doing,’ nodded Garratt. ‘They had always been friends. Meredith reckoned that since we were moving into larger animals, we needed a tame vet. He knew that Thornycroft’s business was in trouble down in Bolton so he fixed it for him to buy the one up here. He knew the old duffer who ran the place had drunk the profits so it was fairly easy to buy him out and Thornycroft was desperate to get out of Bolton. Of course, once Thornycroft realized the extent of the business’s problems, he was only too eager to help us. Like I said, gentlemen, when money talks, everyone listens eventually.’
‘And you came up here to be close to them both?’ said Gallagher.
‘Yeah, I reckoned it was out of the way and I was pretty sure that even Harris here would not work out what we were doing so long as we kept our noses clean. We’d got a nice life actually, nights at the pub, bit of poker, walks on the moors, that sort of thing. Could quite get used to this country life. Then, of course, I find out about Trevor’s attack of conscience.’ Garratt shook his head. ‘Crazy, absolutely crazy.’
‘Conscience over what?’ asked Harris. ‘The dog fighting?’
‘Yeah. See, Trevor was perfectly happy to ship animals halfway round the world but he had always had this thing about dogs. Hated to see them suffering. When we were in Africa, he was always adopting mangy, flea-ridden mutts off the street. God knows where he found them, Anyway, a few nights ago, he tells me that he has been trying to stop Radford running the fights. That he’s infiltrated his organization, is stringing him along and feeding the information to the RSPCA.’ Garratt shook his head again. ‘I was horrified, told him that he was inviting trouble.’
‘And he said?’
‘Said not to worry, that Radford didn’t know what he was doing. Said he had even supplied him with a dog – Meredith had agonized about that for days, but reckoned it was the only way to get real credibility with Radford. Trouble is, he told Thornycroft about it as well – and what does Thornycroft do? Goes running to Radford, of course.’
‘Why?’
‘Said Meredith had become a liability, that he would take us all down. Thornycroft was terrified of going to prison, would have done anything to escape it. Don’t forget that he had been treating injured dogs for Radford. I think he hoped that Radford would persuade Meredith to shut his mouth.’
‘I take it you knew who Radford was, what he is capable of doing?’
‘Oh, aye,’ chuckled Garratt, ‘I know Gerry Radford. That’s where you come into it, Chief Inspector. See, in return for a favour or two from your lot, I might just be able to do you one in return. Give you Radford.’
He gave a slight smile.
‘Repay that debt to society, as it were.’
Half an hour later, Jack Harris was sitting in his office, sipping tea as he mulled over the interview, when there was a knock on the door. Looking up, he saw Butterfield, the young constable hardly able to conceal her excitement.
‘They’ve found the dog,’ she announced.
An hour later, the inspector was standing on the hillside, about a mile from where Trevor Meredith’s body had been found, staring at the mangled remains of the bull terrier, lying among thick bracken. The inspector crouched down and gently ran a hand over its bloodstained and scored flank, up to its grizzled head with its numerous bite marks, torn and ripped muzzle and remains of the missing ear.
‘Poor old chap,’ said the inspector and turned to look at Gallagher, who was standing behind him. ‘You were right, Matty lad, Robbie did fight like a tiger.’
‘They do,’ nodded the sergeant.
The DCI’s attention was caught by something which he had not initially noticed, something which had been concealed beneath the congealed blood. Harris leaned over and pushed the blood-streaked fur aside.
‘Well, well, well,’ he said quietly. ‘It would seem to have been a somewhat unfair fight.’
‘Why is that?’ asked Gallagher, leaning over to look closer.
‘Because this,’ said Jack Harris softly, ‘is a bullet hole.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Early the following afternoon, Jack Harris was sitting in his office at Levton Bridge Police Station, trying in vain to concentrate on the report he had been trying to read for the best part of an hour. From time to time, he would glance up impatiently at the clock.
‘Where is he?’ muttered Harris, looking down at Scoot, who was curled up in his usual spot by the radiator. ‘Where the hell is he, boy? I mean, Roxham is hardly the other end of the bloody universe.’
Scoot gave his master a look and settled back to sleep again. There was a knock on the door and the inspector looked up quickly as Gallagher walked into the room, holding a brown envelope. The sergeant’s eyes gleamed.
‘That it then?’ asked Harris eagerly.
‘See for yourself,’ beamed Gallagher, sitting down and sliding the envelope across the desk. ‘It’s all there. She’s been playing us for fools. Good job we started looking closer.’
‘Thank Paul Garratt for that.’
‘Ironic really,’ said Gallagher, watching as Harris opened the envelope and carefully extracted the document.
‘Ironic why?’
‘You proving Radford innocent.’
‘Only of this,’ said Harris, ‘only of this.’
He scanned the contents of the document with satisfaction.
‘As far as we can ascertain, it’s the only copy,’ said Gallagher. ‘Which explains why it never turned up in any of our searches. The bank manager was not particularly happy at being brought in on a Saturday morning to open the safety deposit box but a few choice words persuaded him.’
‘I’ll not ask what they were,’ said Harris, reaching the bottom of the page and giving a low whistle. ‘Well, well, Matty lad, what do they say in a murder inquiry – always look close to home?’
‘Indeed.’
‘She still missing, I assume?’
‘Yeah, checked on my way back.’
There was another knock on the door and Butterfield walked in.
‘You got a minute?’ she asked.
Harris nodded.
‘I have just come off the phone from Jane Porter,’ she said. ‘You remember her, the sour-faced woman at the sanctuary?’
‘I remember,’ said Harris.
‘Well, it turns out that your mate Barry Ramsden—’
‘No mate of mine,’ said the inspector.
‘Well you’ll like this then. Seems he turned up at the sanctuary half an hour ago, getting all aeriated and demanding to know why we were there this morning.’
‘Yeah,’ said Harris, glancing down at a scrap of paper on his desk. ‘He’s rung here seven times now, demanding to talk to me as well. Even rang Curtis at home but he was out playing golf. The pressures of life at the top, Constable.’
Butterfield grinned.
‘But,’ said Harris, standing up and reaching his jacket down from a peg on the wall, ‘I suppose he is right and that it is time to talk to the good burgher. Somehow I think I am going to enjoy this.’
Ten minutes later, Harris and Gallagher strode up the front drive of a semi-detached house on the edge of Levton Bridge. Harris rang the bell and the detectives stood on the front step and listened to the sound of barking dogs from the sanctuary, which stood at the end of the estate, beyond a row of recently planted trees. After a few moments, the parish council chairman opened the door.
‘Jack,’ he said, ‘where the hell have you been. I have been ringing the pol—’
‘Yeah, sorry about that. Can we come in?’ said Harris and the detectives walked into the hallway without waiting to hear the answer.
Ramsden followed them in, his face betraying his anger at their behaviour.
‘I really must object to the way you have ignored my calls,’ he said. ‘And don’t tell me that you weren’t in because the desk sergeant told me—’
‘Nice house,’ said Harris, glancing approvingly along the hallway. ‘Will you be moving into one of the new ones?’
Ramsden stared at him.
‘Well?’ said Harris. ‘Will you?’
‘It’s not what you think,’ said Ramsden quietly, his bluster dissipating in the face of the detectives’ solemn looks. ‘We had the best interests of the dogs at heart when we decided to….’
‘I wonder how many people will agree with that when they hear that you are going to pocket all that money?’
‘We’re going to build a new sanctuary,’ protested Ramsden. ‘We will make sure that the dogs are OK. That’s why we didn’t want word to get out until everything was sorted. People would only jump to the wrong conclusion.’
‘I am sure they would. I mean, I can see that people might easily misunderstand about the bit being creamed off the top. What do you think, Sergeant?’
‘Oh, aye,’ nodded Gallagher. ‘People just would not understand that.’
Ramsden stared at them in horror.
‘Particularly,’ said Harris, ‘when they find out that it cost Trevor Meredith his life.’
‘Oh, God,’ said Ramsden, going pale and leaning against the wall. ‘Oh dear God.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
‘So is your chap right?’ asked Annie Gorman.
‘I hope so,’ said Harris. ‘I can think of better ways of spending my Saturday nights.’
‘You hope so,’ said Gorman, giving him a sly look. ‘Besides, as I recall, spending a Saturday night with me was one of your more pleasant pastimes.’