03-Savage Moon (15 page)

'And can you find the file on that dog he shot? I'd like the owners traced, interviewed and eliminated. In an ideal world, I'd like the same for the owners of that Alsatian, though God knows how we'll ever find them.'

'So what's the next step in the investigation?'

Jon could tell the other man was worried that his role in the case was about to evaporate. 'I need to get back to my nick and report to the boss. We'll be setting up an incident room at Longsight for Peterson's death, but I'd like to keep your room at Mossley Brow open too. Can you continue acting as my point of contact here?'

Adam looked relieved. 'With pleasure.'

'It's going to be necessary to start moving the files, photographs and records on Rose Sutton over to Longsight. I'll get an indexer to start putting everything we have on her into HOLMES.'

Adam looked disappointed.

'We have to work these cases side by side,' Jon explained. 'It's the only way to uncover whatever links Peterson to Mrs Sutton.'

'I know,' Adam replied, looking out the window towards the road as it dropped down into the tiny village of Holme. 'I need to drop by at my sister's. Which way are you driving back?'

Jon ducked his head so he could see the summit of the moors through the windscreen. 'That's the quickest way isn't it?'

Adam nodded. 'Yup. Best you set off now while there's still some light left.'

'What, beware the moon and all that?' Jon grinned.

The serious look remained on Adam's face. 'It's just a long walk down if you get a puncture. Reception from your mobile comes and goes up there, remember?'

'Fair enough. I'll be in contact soon.' Jon climbed out, got back into his own car and set off up the steep road. On reaching the level ground at the top, he could see the sun was now just a faint smudge of orange on the western horizon. There wasn't a single other car in sight and suddenly he felt very small as he crossed the empty terrain. After a few minutes he reached the other side of the plateau and was surprised to feel relief at the sight of the pooled lights of Manchester twinkling away below.

His mobile phone started beeping away in his pocket. Jon realised he'd had no signal for the past three hours and he quickly fished it out of his jacket. The voicemail symbol was flashing so he pressed the button that connected him to his messages.

Summerby's voice immediately came on the line. 'Jon, you might want to get back here at some stage. Apparently you promised a press conference this afternoon and we now have a shoal of reporters circling in reception. The press liaison officer would be pulling his hair out – if he had any.'

Fourteen

Adam Clegg watched Jon Spicer's rear lights grow faint as the vehicle laboured away up the hill. His finger continued to pick nervously at the slats on the air conditioning vent as a succession of thoughts ran through his head. Spicer knew he was being evasive – the way the atmosphere had just tightened between them was unmistakable. Clegg leaned his head to the side, weighing up how the obvious loss of trust may have damaged their working relationship. Not too badly it appeared, since he was still on the investigation.

He let out a sigh of relief, his breath fogging the side window like ice spreading across water. At least he could continue to exert some control on what the glare of the investigation revealed, subtly guiding its light from the areas he needed to remain in shadow.

Putting the car back into gear, he turned left and followed the steep road as it plunged down into the tiny village of Holme. The narrow rows of dark stone houses clung to the sloping side streets, many of which were still cobbled. Parked vehicles rested unevenly on their suspensions, as if an earthquake had been frozen in the act of buckling the road. Clegg followed the twisting high street, his eyes gliding over a pub called The Old Tup, a couple of tea rooms clearing up for the night, a closed butcher's and newsagent's, then finally the brightly lit interior of the small tourist office. He spotted his sister standing alone as usual behind the counter. From her expressionless stare, he wondered if dusk had made it impossible for her to see through the windows on to the street beyond.

He pulled into the half deserted Co-op car park, listening to the sound of a babbling brook as he walked to the rear of the tourist office. A bell jangled briefly on opening the back door and the smell of freshly printed paper filled his nostrils. On racks and shelves beside him were neat stacks of photocopied sheets – areas of local interest, walks in the surrounding countryside, summaries of the village's history – including accounts of the great flood of 1936 that washed many of the original weavers' cottages away down the valley.

He emerged from the rear of the premises into the front room where, alongside the ordnance survey maps and glossy National Park guide books were pencils, rulers, rubbers and other small items, all bearing a ram's horn emblem and the words,
Holme of the weavers' art
.

'Adam, I wondered if that was your jeep going past just now.' His older sister's blue eyes twinkled as she smiled, her hands going to the back of her head to adjust the band keeping her frizzy brown hair in its ponytail. 'What brings you over the hill?' Adam gave a half smile, unable to keep the worry from his eyes. 'We need to have a chat, Edith. Are you closing up soon?' She glanced at the door, concern now making her eyebrows tilt. 'I doubt we'll get anyone coming in now. What's happened?'

Adam moved across the room and positioned himself in the corner by the till, out of sight from the street. The familiar reassurance he felt in the company of his older sister flooded him and he started speaking quickly, keen to unload all his anxieties on to her. 'There's been some developments in the investigation into Rose's death. Someone else was killed this morning and now there's an officer from the Major Incident Team in Manchester sniffing around. He's linking both deaths and moving the investigation to the city, proper incident room, team of officers on outside enquiries. They'll be going into Rose's life . . . '

His sister held up a finger and the rush of words died in his throat. She took the set of keys lying by the side of the till, walked over to the front door, locked it and flipped the sign over to
Closed
.

'Now,' she said, a firm note in her voice. 'Start again and take it slowly this time. 'What do you mean someone else has been killed?'

'Some bloke from Manchester. A car park queer.' She shook her head in question.

'You know, one of them who hangs around in public places looking for other men. Toilets and that.' His mouth was turned downwards in disgust.

'And he was killed. Why are they linking it to Rose?'

'His injuries. They were the same,' he replied, gesturing towards his neck.

His sister's hand went to her throat and she pinched the neck of her blouse closed. 'Oh my God.' Her eyes drifted to the side, then turned back to her brother. 'Who was this man?'

'He was called Derek Peterson.' Adam let the name hang. Not seeing anything register on her face, he continued. 'He was in his forties, lived in Clayton on the edge of the city. Worked in a care home for young offenders, but got convicted for gross indecency. There's no way Rose knew him, is there?'

Slowly, Edith turned her head from side to side. 'I don't think so. Surely the investigation will soon discover that?'

'You don't understand the way this is going to work, Edie. They'll delve into every aspect of Rose's life, rake through it all. The officer who turned up today is already talking about re- interviewing all Rose's family, friends and acquaintances. Not just the friendly chats I've carried out. They'll be knocking on your door, no doubt about it.'

'Wanting to know what?'

'Any secrets she might have had. Searching for motive. Reasons why someone might have killed her.'

'Someone? What happened to the beast that's been taking

Sutton's sheep?'

'He's refusing to accept that. Says it has to be treated as murder.'

'He? Who is this damned he?'

'He's a Detective Inspector called Jon Spicer.'

'What's he like?'

Adam inserted the tip of a knuckle between his teeth and began to gently nip at it as he contemplated an answer.

'Stop it,' Edith snapped, slapping his hand down. 'How many times have I told you not to do that?'

He looked at her with the hurt eyes of a chastised schoolboy.

'He's no fool Edie. God knows what courses he's been on, but this is the sort of case he's been trained for. He already knows I haven't been totally straight with him.'

Edith crossed her arms. 'You stupid fool, Adam Clegg.'

'I think Ken has his suspicions too,' Adam added miserably.

'Why?'

'You know what Ken's like, man of few words. But when Spicer told him about the man who was killed last night, he suddenly seemed interested. Wanted to know the victim's age and description. Spicer picked up on it too, even asked me later if Rose could have been seeing another man.'

Edith rolled her eyes. 'Why I ever let you two involve me in your stupidity,' she hissed. 'You'll have to tell this Spicer person the truth then, won't you?'

Adam let out a bitter laugh. 'And have Ken Sutton find out I was having an affair with his wife?'

'Why would he find out?'

'Gossip, it always leaks out sooner or later.'

'So what do you propose? Keep playing it your way and risk ruining your entire career? And what about me? You're asking me to lie to a police officer too. I could go to prison for that couldn't I? Impeding a murder investigation. I let you two meet in my house for God's sake. What if someone saw something?'

'Edie, she always walked there remember? I'd leave by the front, she'd leave by the back and go across the fields to the village where her car was parked. No one ever saw a thing.' He knew his sister couldn't argue – if anyone saw anything, word would have got out by now.

'You still haven't told me what you think we should do.'

'Just tell them who Rose was friendly with. Make out the marriage was fine. Don't give them any cause to suspect anything.'

'I don't know, Adam. This is all sliding out of control.'

'Edith! You can't tell them the truth about me and Rose. If

Sutton finds out... God knows what he's capable of.'

She looked back at him, her expression giving nothing away.

'Edie, come on. Apart from a heart of ice, the guy's got several guns. I remembered something today as a result of a question Spicer asked. You know that time a few years back when Ken killed the dog worrying his sheep? His first barrel only peppered the animal's back legs. Sutton then admitted he walked up to it and emptied the other barrel point blank into its head. He then tied it to the bumper of his Land Rover and dragged it across the field to the owners. The couple were totally distraught, insisted he was grinning as he did it.'

She stayed silent for a while before reluctantly nodding. 'So I cover up for you. What then?'

'When they can't find anything on her, they'll focus the investigation on where it should be.'

'You mean catching the beast?'

He glanced at the now black windows, towards the darkness beyond. 'Exactly. Catching that bloody thing out there.'

Fifteen

Jon slowed down as he passed the main entrance to Longsight police station. Holy shit, there was a TV crew there. As he tried to spot anything that would indicate whether it was from a local or national station, he saw an arm pointing in his direction. That blonde from the car park at Crime Lake. The photographer with her started turning, a camera going up to his face.

Jon accelerated round the corner, relieved to pull into the staff entrance at the side of the building. Not pausing at his office, he made his way straight up to Summerby's room. Gavin Edwards, the Press Liaison Officer, was inside. He was five foot-six at most and Jon couldn't decide what caused the guy most angst – his lack of height or his rapidly disappearing hair. He'd come from a London newsroom where they evidently thought each day was an episode of 24. If things weren't tense enough, Edwards would manufacture it so they were. Nervously, he peered down at the throng of people on the pavement below.

'Ah, Jon, here at last,' Summerby said with a theatrical flick of his eyes towards Edwards.

As if on cue, the other man whirled round. 'This is the big one, Jon. Once it goes out on the wire we can expect interest from across the world.'

That's DI Spicer to twats like you, Jon thought. 'Yeah, sorry for the delay. I was visiting a farm, didn't realise there was no signal there.'

'On the moor where Mrs Sutton was found?' Edwards asked, eyes shining.

Jon could see the connections coming together in the man's head. 'That's right. And yes, the injuries from both victims match and no, I don't believe we have a savage beast out there slaughtering people.'

'But surely... ' Edwards began.

Jon cut him off. 'Boss, what were the results from the PM?' Summerby drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair, making a sound like a horse galloping. 'He's typing up as we speak, but he said all his findings concur with his analysis at the scene. Time of death sometime between midnight and four in the morning. Oh, and from the angle of the lacerations on both sides of his face and neck, he believes the attacker was carrying a multi-pronged weapon in each hand.'

An image of a beast standing up on its hind legs and lashing out with both its front paws flashed in Jon's head. 'Did we track down a next of kin?'

'Yes, the body was cleaned up and an ID was made by his brother half an hour ago. Confirmed as one Derek Peterson.' Jon sat down. 'This wild animal theory is going to be a major problem. There's a supposed expert in big cat behaviour helping out at Mossley Brow nick. He's taking it for granted a panther killed Rose Sutton and Derek Peterson. If the press link the two incidents together, interest levels are going to go through the roof. I'd prefer to play down the Peterson killing.' He heard Edwards snort. 'We've got a couple of sensitive leads on Derek Peterson. They link into the gay scene and if the press go steaming in we could lose them.'