To Die Alone by John Dean Read Free Book Online

brushed a hand across her short-cropped blonde hair, as if trying to wipe away the memory.
    ‘One of the ewes was pregnant.’ Her voice dropped to little more than a whisper. ‘It was the only time I ever saw my father cry.’
    ‘And the dog?’ asked Thornycroft.
    ‘Dad put a bullet into it.’
    ‘Ah.’
    ‘Like she said, James,’ commented Harris drily. ‘People do things differently up here.’
    ‘So it would seem.’
    ‘Trouble is,’ said Harris, laying a hand gently on the dog’s head, ‘poor Robbie wasn’t a sheep, was he? And I can only think of one thing that would make a dog attack another one in such a savage way. I assume you know about dog fighting, James?’
    ‘Come on, Hawk, you’re surely not suggesting that something like that is happening here?’
    ‘There’ve been rumours,’ said Harris. ‘The local RSPCA lad reckons there was a plan for an empty barn on Jenner’s farm. I am wondering if Trevor Meredith had got himself involved in some way.’
    ‘He was certainly a somewhat naïve man at times,’ said Thornycroft and clapped a hand to his mouth. ‘Sorry, shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.’
    ‘I take it you knew him fairly well then?’
    ‘Not really. That is, a bit. We weren’t close or anything like that, mind.’ The vet noticed both officers staring at him and sighed. ‘I guess you’ll find out anyway but I did not get on with Trevor Meredith – or rather, he did not get on with me.’
    The detectives exchanged glances.
    ‘It’s nothing sinister,’ said the vet quickly. ‘My predecessor had treated dogs from the sanctuary for free – even paid for some of the drugs, I understand. I think he saw it as some sort of social service. I am afraid I cannot afford to be such a philanthropic soul.’
    Harris raised an eyebrow.
    ‘Don’t look at me like that, Hawk,’ said Thornycroft. ‘When I took the business over, my accountant said that there was no way such a state of affairs could continue – it was costing the business a lot of money. I had no alternative but to stop it.’
    ‘Community spirit indeed,’ murmured Butterfield.
    ‘Business is business, Constable. Trevor Meredith understood.’ The vet noticed their sceptical looks. ‘He did. Honest he did.’
    ‘If you say so,’ said the inspector. ‘After all, we can hardly ask him now, can we?’
    Thornycroft looked at him anxiously.
    ‘Look, I hope this does not get me involved in your inquiry,’ he said.
    ‘I am sure that it has no bearing on what happened,’ said Harris. ‘What does have a bearing, though, if is there’s a link between what happened to Meredith and dog fighting. What kind of dog did this to Robbie, do you think?’
    ‘I’d need to do casts of the bite marks and send them off for analysis to be a hundred per cent sure,’ said the vet, pursing his lips. ‘Somehow I don’t imagine that your Superintendent Curtis will stump up for that.’
    Harris nodded gloomily. He knew how Philip Curtis reacted to anything to do with animals. In addition to his work as a detective, Harris was a wildlife liaison officer, a role which had over the years turned him into a national figure much in demand to address conferences and to give television and radio interviews. Curtis, the recently-arrived superintendent at Levton Bridge had made it clear that he did not like the amount of time Harris lavished on such affairs, or the publicity it engendered. Not proper policing, was a phrase he had been heard to utter but never within earshot of the inspector.
    Not that the mutual dislike was all about wildlife: part of it was connected with one of the superintendent’s first decisions on arriving at Levton Bridge. Detesting the fact that Scoot accompanied the inspector wherever he went, Curtis saw an early opportunity to establish his superiority as divisional commander. He issued a memo banishing the dog from the divisional headquarters, a decision he was forced to reverse by the force of highly vocal