Scandal at Six(74)

Pettison shook his head. “No, that line of supply has been busted. This particular business is becoming more and more difficult, with all the ridiculous laws on importing supposedly rare animals. And self-righteous busybodies interfering.”

“They have a point,” said Justin. “I read that ninety percent of animals imported from the wild, not bred in captivity, like you always say, die within the first year. I couldn’t sleep at night if I was as involved as you are.”

“Oh, I think you are very involved, my boy,” said Pettison. “If, God forbid, I am ever required to take seriously the law of the land, I shall see that you come down with me. I shall need some congenial company.”

“Let’s hope you can keep out of harm’s way, then. Now, I must be off. Last bits of paperwork at the solicitors to do with Father’s will.” He paused, and looked back. “That reminds me,” he said. “I want to talk to you about how my father had the bad luck to get drawn into your activities.”

“What would you like me to say, Justin? You must know by now that from the start he knew all about it, was quite happy for his barn to be used for transit purposes, and agreed not to say a word to anyone. Is that good enough for you?”

Justin had paled, and his hand trembled as he reached for his coat. “No, it is not. What did you use against him, to blackmail him into silence?”

“Harsh words, Justin,” Pettison said, and shook his head. “It’s all a long time ago. Are you sure you want to know all such irrelevant details? We got along well together, your father and I. That’s all you need to know.”

“No, it isn’t! My father was a God-fearing man, and I know for sure he would never willingly have done anything against the law.”

“Oh well, if you insist. To begin at the beginning, we went to the same boarding school and were in cahoots with various schemes there. We delighted in lifting things from other boys who we considered could afford to lose them!” He laughed at the memory, but Justin’s scowl deepened.

“Unfortunately, the school authorities took a serious view, and we were sent packing,” continued Pettison.

“But that was when you were quite young boys, and I expect you bullied him.”

“Perhaps, but the thing was, Justin old chap, your father’s family were as poor as church mice, and they were giving up everything to send him to a good school. They were heartbroken when we got the sack, and I helped your father out with finances for a while. We kept in touch, as you know, from then on. He was grateful, and when I needed his help, he was only too pleased to oblige.”

Pettison closed his eyes and subsided onto his pillows. “There were other schemes, too, dear boy, but now, off you go,” he said in a weak voice. “I need some sleep. Easily tired, you know. Tell the nurse I need her, on your way out.”

Justin was still shaking with rage when he got back into the Fiat. For a long while he sat and stared out of the window at the brick wall of the hospital. His misguided father had kept Pettison’s lousy secrets to the end! No wonder he had always seemed so worried when Justin asked awkward questions.

And now look at us! Justin caught a glimpse of himself in the driving mirror and shivered. My father is dead, no doubt comforted with the thought that his secrets would die with him. But Pettison had revived them, and Justin could be in the same soup as his father, unless he could think of a way out.

“I’ll make you pay, Robert bloody Pettison!” he shouted to the empty car. “See if I don’t, you old fool!”

He put the Fiat into gear, moved out of the car park, and turned in the direction of the zoo.



*



Lois was on her way to see Dot Nimmo. She had given her permission to help out when required at the zoo, and she intended to add the cost to Pettison’s bill. She saw the Fiat driving off up to the hall, and wondered why Justin should be heading that way when his uncle was in hospital. It could have been someone else, of course. Those little cars were very popular now. She waved to Margie Turner and drove on into the zoo park. There she got out of her car to find a familiar figure waiting for her.

“Morning, Lois. I didn’t expect to see you here.” It was Inspector Cowgill, smiling fondly at her. “Are you well, my dear? And how’s the new flat tenant doing?”

“I’m fine, thanks. And wasn’t that Justin Brookes on his way to the hall? I need to see him,” she improvised, “about a matter of access to the garden behind the shop. Are you hanging around here for a purpose, or have you developed a fondness for snakes?”

“Something like that,” said Cowgill. “Shall we have a coffee when you’ve finished with Brookes? I’ll meet you in the café.”