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Scandal at Six(18)

By:Ann Purser


All the colour had gone from Josie’s face. “A little dog, was it?” she asked.

Gran looked closely at the newspaper. “Here it is; look. No, it was a big German shepherd. See, here’s a picture. Looks a lovely dog. But really big, and should’ve come off best in a fight.”

Josie looked closely at the photo, and the news story beside it. The police had been informed, and the dog taken to an animal mortuary for further investigation. The report said that the owner had seen something moving behind a pile of sacks, and thought it must be a rat. They had had an infestation of rodents, but these had been dealt with recently. The dog had been only too keen to investigate, and had seemed to pounce on something behind the sacks. Almost at once it had yelped and collapsed, and the owner had seen some movement over by the door of the barn, but couldn’t say what it was.

“Oh Lor, Gran,” Josie said. “I know what I would suggest! A sodding great cobra snake! I hope it’s not on its way back here,” she added, and her voice wobbled. “It’s all getting a bit much. I’m going to phone Mum and tell her to read about it. Now then, Gran, do you want your usual raisin loaf this week?”

“Thank you, dear. I’m on my way home, so I’ll take this paper to your mother. But you’re not to worry. It could have been one of them giant rats that did for that dog.”

This wasn’t much consolation for Josie, but she decided to get on with unpacking a new delivery of groceries and try to put dangerous animals from her mind.



*



Robert Pettison had overseen the closing of the zoo at the appointed time, and went for his usual walk around the perimeter to check all was safe and secure. It was beginning to rain, and his rare-breed sheep were huddled under an ancient spreading chestnut tree. They looked happy enough, and he walked on and into the next enclosure, where small horned cattle were lying down in the shelter of a tall hawthorn hedge. All well there, then, he said to himself.

He walked on, thinking about his nephew Justin, who was coming over for a meeting next week. A strange one, that. Always the same elegant fellow, if slightly raffish. It was the cravat that did it! The only time he had seen him looking different was when they met with others in a big London hotel, where he had hardly recognised him. On that occasion, he had worn a beautifully tailored grey suit, white shirt and old-school tie, and looked every inch the city banker.

Pettison had been close to Justin’s father, until the poor man had fallen ill. They had been at the same school, and over the years had kept up their friendship. Young Brookes, by then a farmer, had fallen for Pettison’s sister, and they had married and produced Justin. The farm had been ideal for Pettison’s developing rare trade in wild animals. They had only the small specimens to house on the farm, of course. He smiled to himself at the thought of a gorilla loping over the flat fields of Lincolnshire.

It was raining now, and Pettison quickened his step. So Justin would be living in Long Farnden. The thought took him to the visit from Mrs Meade, who lived in that village. A very attractive sleuth! He had every reason to call her a sleuth, since she had become known throughout the Tresham underworld as a woman to avoid at all costs. She had a special relationship with top-cop Cowgill, and had a knack of homing in on matters that were necessarily kept secret from the police.

He had found her sharp-tongued and impatient, and decided it would take all his undoubted charm to win her over to his side. She could be very useful, he thought, nodding to himself. Very useful, indeed. She could also be dangerous, and he hoped Justin had taken that into account.

He arrived at the main gates again, and made sure all was well, before returning to the house, where he dried off, retreated to his kitchen and set about preparing himself an exquisite meal of escargots in a French dressing, followed by smoked trout and a salad of fresh endive from the kitchen garden. For Justin’s arrival next week, he decided to serve up roast lamb, with all the trimmings. The lad should be bringing him valuable goods, and would deserve the best.





Eleven





“So this morning I’m going to rough out an ad for the flat. I shall put it in the local evening paper in Tresham, and one or two freebies that go out to the villages. Is that okay with you, Josie?”

Lois was talking on the telephone from her study, and she could see through her window a police car drawing up outside the shop. “Looks like Matthew’s on his way home for breakfast. I can see him drawing up outside. I’d best go now and leave you to say hello.”

“He’s only dropping in, Mum. He wanted to pick up the local paper with the story about the dog with the poison bite. Anyway, talk soon. Bye.”