“Not funny, I’m afraid. One of the zookeepers has been bitten by a king cobra, and died on the way to hospital.”
“Died? A king cobra! Now will you take some action?”
“Yes, of course. You have to believe me when I say we have been busy on this case all along, but not always apparent to the general public.”
“I’m not the general public! And a ruddy great snake turned up in my daughter’s stockroom. And now this! Surely you could tell me exactly what’s going on?”
Cowgill nodded. “You are quite right, and I don’t forget the considerable help you have given us in the past. But this is dangerous territory, and I am not prepared to risk any damage being done to my Lois.”
Lois calmed down, and said that they should get on with the matter at hand. “Though what with Derek and Gran, and now you, I’m beginning to think I should give it all up, and take up knitting,” she said.
“You won’t,” said Cowgill. “Now, let’s begin.”
He told her that his men had been called in early this morning, when Pettison had gone down to the zoo and found the keeper. He had been on duty last evening, and was barely alive on the concrete floor outside the cobra’s quarters. He had a severe bite on his arm, and although resuscitation was tried, he had died within an hour. Before the poison had taken hold, he had managed to get out of the snake’s quarters, and locked the door behind him.
“He was a brave man,” Cowgill said, “and was often willing to do night duty when no one else would. He loved the snakes, so Pettison says, and was planning a breeding programme for this particular species, which is under threat from depletion of its natural habitat. I quote. King cobras are deadly, said to be able to kill an elephant, and will eat a female cobra if he doesn’t fancy her.”
“Now you’re making it up to frighten me!” Lois said. “So is the zoo going to stay closed?”
“Until we have arranged for the cobra to be made safe, then we’ll go ahead with Pettison and let him open it up again. He’s being very cooperative, I must say, and is losing quite a lot of business while it’s shut. These two accidents are the only ones I can remember since he first opened the zoo. Could be bad luck.”
“Just as a matter of interest, Cowgill, when you say ‘made safe,’ do you mean killing it?”
“Not sure yet,” he said. “It might mean doubling up security. Anyway, keep in touch on that one. Now, what do you have to tell me?”
Lois gave him an account, short and to the point, of Dot’s encounter with Betsy Brierley and her husband. “And then there was their snake, and not a cobra,” she said.
Cowgill groaned. “Not another slithering snake?” he asked.
“Yep,” she answered. “And this one was returned to the zoo late last evening.”
“Tell me the rest,” said Cowgill. “And then you and I are going along to Cameroon Hall.”
Twenty-one
It was finally agreed that Lois should arrive to see Pettison on her own, so that she could talk to him about Dot coming to work for him, and then Cowgill would arrive about an hour later to do his questioning and observe what was going on at the zoo.
Lois approached the gate, and was surprised to see it was open.
“Morning!” said Margie Turner, smiling from the entry kiosk. “Just the one ticket, is it?”
“No, I’m not going to the zoo. I have an appointment with Mr Pettison. Lois Meade. He is expecting me.”
“Oh yes, go on through, and straight up to the hall. You’re the lady from New Brooms, aren’t you? My friend, Dot Nimmo, works for you.”
“That’s right,” said Lois. “I’m considering sending her to work at the hall for Mr Pettison.” She paused, hoping for some useful snippet from Margie.
To her surprise, Margie laughed. “Don’t worry, Mrs Meade,” she said. “I’ll keep an eye on her. And, anyway, our Dot is well able to deal with the likes of Robert Pettison!”
“Do you think she will need to do so?”
“You can never tell with the boss. Lots of rumours fly around, but he’s never been anything but a gentleman with me.”
“What rumours?”
“Oh, you know. Some say he’s gay, and others that he’s had every attractive woman in Tresham. Lowlifes, not the upper classes! But as far as I’m concerned, he’s a good employer and never put a foot wrong. Off you go then, dear; there’s a couple waiting to go in.”
Lois walked slowly up the drive to the house, thinking about what Margie had said about Pettison. Lots of rumours, she had said. She thought of his grim mausoleum, and his obsession with rare animals. Obsession? Maybe it was more than that. Collectors became obsessive to the point of breaking the law. A painting, say an old master hanging on the wall of a private mansion. Worth a fortune. Expert burglars employed to steal it, and in some cases, it is never seen again. Some collector somewhere is gloating over his latest acquisition.