Living Death by Graham Masterton Read Free Book Online Page B

what these Spaniel Snatchers are like. Once they’ve lifted a dog, it’s spirited away before you can say Brandy Traditional Meat Loaf.’
    ‘We still haven’t identified the victim?’
    ‘Not so far. His body’s been sent off to CUH, and the technical experts are taking DNA and blood samples. We won’t be able to circulate pictures to the media, though, because he doesn’t have what you might describe as a face.’
    Katie sat down at her desk. On the top of the stack of papers in front of her was a confidential security report on the Cork Islamic community, which numbered about five thousand, and in particular the school that was being set up in the new Muslim cultural centre at Turners Cross. She lifted the cover and read the first page and then let the cover drop back. As if her life wasn’t under enough pressure already.
    ‘All right, Robert, thanks. I’ll ring Inspector O’Brien and see what the latest is. There isn’t too much we can do, though, until we put a name to this dead dognapper. I can’t afford to send you all out hunting for missing dogs, as you very well know. I simply don’t have the manpower available, or the budget.’
    Once Detective Dooley had left, she shuffled through all of the paperwork on her desk to see if there was anything that required her urgent attention. At the same time she listened to the voicemail messages on her phone and checked her texts and her emails. She had taken only one morning off and already she felt that she was being buried under a blizzard of paperwork.
    The most pressing message had been sent by Inspector Noonan. Somebody had deliberately started a fire at the new €5 million housing estate built at St Anthony’s Park to rehouse the Travellers who had previously lived on the halting site at Knocknaheeny. The Travellers had moved to their smart new houses only under protest, partly because they had wanted financial compensation but mostly because they hadn’t been allowed to take their horses with them. Several of them had threatened to vandalise the estate, and now it looked as if one of them might have carried out his threat. At least the city fire brigade had quickly contained the blaze and nobody had been injured.
    Katie knew that it would take more than detective work to solve this problem. If it turned out that a Traveller had started the fire, she would have to meet with the Traveller Visibility Group to see if something could be done to settle the Romas’ outstanding grievances. Then again, it could have been set by a disgruntled local resident who objected to so many Travellers moving in nearby.
    Her phone rang. It was Inspector O’Brien, calling from Bandon.
    ‘Oh, Terry,’ she said. ‘Thanks a million for ringing. You saved me from ringing you, as a matter of fact. What’s the story on this shooting?’
    ‘We’re more than slightly puggalised, to tell you the truth,’ said Inspector O’Brien.
    ‘Why’s that? From the sound of it, it was pretty straightforward.’
    ‘On the face of it, yes. A gang of dognappers breaks into a boarding kennels in the early hours of the morning and starts making off with the dogs, so the owner comes out and takes a potshot at them.’
    ‘So what’s the mystery?’
    ‘On closer consideration there’s a couple of things that don’t exactly fit, like, do you know what I mean? The victim wasn’t armed but there was a hurley lying on the ground next to him, as if he’d dropped it when he was shot. The technical experts used a scanner right then and there for fingerprints and the victim had definitely been holding the hurley himself prior to having his brains blown out. However there were scores more prints all over it – handle and bas both – and these all matched the kennel owner, Eoin Cassidy.’
    ‘So the hurley was probably his? Eoin Cassidy’s?’
    Inspector O’Brien said, ‘That’s right, and when we questioned him back at Weir Street he admitted it was. First of all he tried to make out