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He wondered if Bob Thompson in Bournemouth would have any contacts that might provide a clue about this Blossom character. A photofit image would be something, since there didn’t seem to be anything on file. He phoned through to headquarters.

* * *

Lydia Pillay was fresh to the case. The previous week she had been away on a course on ‘Modern Trends in Intimidation.’ Violent crime had become more subtle in recent years. Despite the general perception, levels of violence had decreased, but there were some worrying trends. Intimidation and bullying were becoming more overt, particularly when coupled with antisocial behaviour. Pillay was expected to share her new knowledge with colleagues. But it would have to wait for this case to be closed first. She was reading through the dossier when she had an idea. She walked across to Marsh.

‘Barry, if a boat’s been used then shouldn’t we be checking with other boat owners? Surely someone must have noticed if a small cruiser or whatever has been going in and out?’

‘We contacted the harbour authorities and have asked them for their records. But Nadia’s boat came in at night, when there was a mist. If they always chose those kinds of conditions, then the chances of being spotted would have been minimal. But I take your point. We should check to see if anyone’s spotted suspicious movements. Come up with a plan, check it with me and we’ll put it to the boss. By the way, you probably know her better than the rest of us. Does she seem okay to you?’

‘What do you mean?’

Marsh chewed his pen. ‘It’s hard to explain. But she seems anxious at times. Not so much when we’re involved with the case, but I’ve caught her a couple of times sitting with her head in her hands. I’ve backed out before she’s seen me. I wondered if you’d spotted it too, or if it’s just my imagination.’

‘Yes, I have. I don’t know what to make of it either. Let’s just keep our eye on her, sir. Maybe something’s happening that we don’t know about.’

‘Okay. But tell me if you find out anything, won’t you? Meanwhile, we just keep on crosschecking. Jimmy and I are still ploughing through the property booking records. The farmhouse ones all seem to come from forwarding or non-existent addresses, but I’m still hopeful they might yield a clue. But you know me. I always live in hope.’

‘Where is Jimmy, by the way?’ Pillay asked.

‘He’s off to Studland to follow up a report from a resident.’

* * *

Jimmy Melsom was sipping tea from a bone china cup. The saucer, which was equally ornate, did not match the cup. The cup across the other side of the table, in front of the elderly man he was interviewing, matched Melsom’s saucer.

‘It must have been a good thirty years ago. Mebbe longer. But it were the cruelty, you see? It were wicked.’

‘So why do you think it’s linked to our present case, Mr Potts?’

‘The first one were a young kitten. Strangled, if I remember right. Nothing else, but it were thrown up onto the rock. It were my workmate, Harry, that found it. Well, it were actually a little lass who’d climbed up the rock, but Harry was walking his dog nearby. He heard her scream like, and he went across. Her family were having a picnic under the rock. Holidaymakers. Harry brought the body of the kitten back and I remember the vet saying it had been strangled. Anyways, a couple of weeks later it were a puppy’s body up there, with its throat cut and its tongue missing. And that’s what made me phone you lot up. ‘Cause I heard, on the quiet like, that that lad’s body had its tongue missing. Is that right?’

‘I can’t confirm or deny it, Mr Potts. We don’t release details about a suspicious death, for obvious reasons. Are there any more details? Like who found the dog’s body?’

‘Well, that were me. I kept my eye on that rock after the cat were found. Thought it might be black magic or sommat. But we didn’t find anything else afterwards, like. But what I can tell you is that there was a camp at the back of the village at the time. You know, Scouts or Boys’ Brigade or sommat. And when they went, it stopped.’

‘But there were only the two incidents?’

‘From what I know, aye. And I get to know most of what goes on around the village. Not that I’m a nosey bugger, don’t think that.’

‘Right, Mr Potts. We need to try and get an accurate date for this. It’s not going to be easy, is it?’

The old man shook his head glumly.

Chapter 15: The Kitten and the Puppy

Monday Afternoon, Week 2

‘It’s a good lead, Jimmy.’

‘I can’t see it, ma’am. He hasn’t a clue which year it was, so I don’t see how we can make any progress on it.’

They were sitting in Sophie’s office. Jimmy Melsom’s features wore a hangdog expression.

‘In the account you’ve just given me there’s one official person mentioned. Think about it.’

She watched. Melsom’s face didn’t alter.

‘Sorry, ma’am. I must be particularly thick today. I still can’t see it.’

‘The vet, Jimmy. Your Mr Potts told you that the dead kitten was taken to the vet. Now let’s assume the same for the dog, though it may not be necessary. Vets would keep records, wouldn’t they? So get onto the practice that’s nearest to the village and go through their records for summers around the years he’s thinking about. Then find out the name of his pal who found the cat. See him and try and get a date out of him. And use the reminder trick on both of them. You know, was there a wedding anniversary or some special occasion the same year? Was something else going on at the same time? Could the camp have been there for a special event? If we can get two corroborative dates, it will be worth following up. Just keep probing, Jimmy. All you need is to find something that tickles their memories. But go for the vet angle first. You might even find someone who was on duty, like a nurse or receptionist who might remember.’

‘Thanks, ma’am. I just couldn’t see it.’

‘That’s my job, Jimmy. You’ll learn with experience.’

Melsom was back with Ray Potts in less than half an hour. This time he made better progress. The elderly man had been thinking, and had decided that the incidents had probably occurred sometime in the late eighties or early nineties. Melsom obtained the address of his ex-workmate, Harry Mowbray, and that of the vets’ practice where the dead animals had been taken.

Harry Mowbray’s memory was vague, and his daughter, who lived with him, informed the detective that her father suffered from significant memory lapses. Melsom saw the vacant expression on the old man’s face and didn’t pursue the matter. He returned to Swanage to visit the veterinary surgery. Here he made better progress and spent the rest of the morning searching through old records with the aid of Shona, the receptionist. It was Shona who found the entry, dated July 1989. Both animal corpses had been examined within a week of each other.

‘Those initials are for Mr Eastways. I think he was the senior partner until he retired. It was quite a long time ago,’ said Shona. ‘I only came here three years ago when the last receptionist moved away. She’d been here for yonks. She doesn’t live locally anymore but we still have her phone number. I can phone her if you like. Apparently she knew everything that went on.’

‘If I can just have her name and number please, that will be fine. And for the vet, if you have it.’

‘Good luck,’ said Shona with a smile. ‘Let me know how you get on. Please?’

* * *

Colin Eastways still lived locally and kept in touch with the practice and many of the farmers he used to serve. He ushered Melsom into his lounge and offered him some coffee.

‘I wouldn’t normally remember cases involving pets from that long ago, but these two incidents were most peculiar. They should both still be on record at your place because the local police were involved.’

Melsom cursed himself for yet again missing the obvious. Why hadn’t he checked the records at the station? It was obvious that the incidents would have involved the police in some way.

‘Anyway,’ the retired vet continued, ‘none of us doubted that the same culprit was responsible for the two incidents, though the second was more serious. The kitten had just been strangled as far as I remember, but the puppy had been partially strangled, then had its throat cut and its tongue sliced off after death.’

‘And both had been thrown onto the top of the Agglestone?’

‘Apparently, yes. We didn’t see that. The bodies were brought to us by whoever found them. Why the interest now?’ asked Eastways, then said, ‘Ah. It’ll be that body found on the rock last week. I understand. But surely there’s no connection after all this time? These incidents with the animals were twenty years ago. Maybe more.’

‘I can’t comment, sir. But we follow up every lead. Were the owners of the animals ever identified?’

‘I really can’t remember. But I can tell you who may be able to help. Our receptionist at that time was Maria Ogamba. She lived in Studland and knew everything and everybody. The trouble is, I don’t know where she lives now.’

‘That’s fine, sir. I already have her details from the current receptionist. She had the same idea as you.’

‘Nice to know they’ve still got staff who are on the ball.’ He paused to take a sip of coffee. ‘I miss it, you know. I try to keep in contact with some of the farmers and clients, but it gets more difficult each year. So many people have moved away or died.’

Melsom didn’t know what to say to this. He finished his coffee and stood up.

‘Thank you, sir. You’ve been most helpful. Please contact us if you remember anything else, no matter how trivial it may seem.’

He phoned the former receptionist as soon as he got back to the car, but there was no answer. He returned to the station. Marsh and Sophie were both pleased with the information he’d obtained.

‘Do you seriously think there’s a link?’ he asked Marsh.

‘Well, it seems a bit peculiar, doesn’t it? But the similarities with the dog are really unusual. The slit throat and the tongue removal. And the vet said that it was reported to us? Go down and see Tom Rose and find out where the records might be. With a bit of luck they’ll still be around.’

It took Melsom the rest of the morning to find the details of the animal incident. They told him nothing new. The investigating constable had made minimal notes. There was no record of the owners.

‘It doesn’t show us in the best light, does it?’ he said to Marsh over lunch. ‘I mean, I can get more information from vet records than from our own.’

‘They might have had other priorities, Jimmy. We don’t know what else was going on at the time. Maybe he never managed to find out anything else. Look on the bright side. You’ve still got the receptionist to contact. And if that doesn’t work, get back over to the village and pick the brains of some of the old people. Someone will remember something, believe me.’

He didn’t need to make another visit. He tried the phone number he’d been given for Maria Ogamba again and this time she answered the phone.

‘Of course I remember it, Officer. It was very weird, and there was a bit more to it than most people realised.’

She now lived in Dorchester. Melsom made arrangements to call on her that afternoon.

* * *

‘Well! What a handsome young man!’

Maria Ogamba gave a throaty laugh. ‘You’re safe to come in, Constable. I don’t bite. Leastways, not much.’

She led Melsom through to a small sitting room, and went to make them a pot of tea.

‘You know, it’s about time that some of you lot followed up that wicked crime. But it’s not exactly recent, is it? What’s taken you so long? Was the paperwork a bit difficult?’ She laughed.

Jimmy smiled rather nervously and took out his notebook.

‘Mr Eastways said you’d probably remember what happened better than anyone. Could you just tell me, and what your thoughts were?’

‘Of course, Jimmy. You did say your name was Jimmy, didn’t you? My memory isn’t what it was, you know . . .’

She looked at him from under lowered lashes. ‘Only joking!’ Her grey curls shook as she laughed.

‘Where shall I start? Well, it was Harry Mowbray that brought the little kitten in. He worked in one of the timber yards, so he walked across the heath to work some days and so did Ray Potts. Harry lived in the same row of cottages as me, four doors along, I think.’

Not again, thought Melsom. Why hadn’t he thought to ask how they knew the heath and what they did for a living? He was becoming a little depressed about his deficiencies as a detective.

‘You can tell I’ve been thinking about it, can’t you?’ She laughed. ‘I wouldn’t normally remember something in this much detail, you know.’

‘You’re doing very well, Mrs Ogamba.’

‘Ms, Officer. I never got married. My man was a real rascal. He fathered my children and then buggered off. Fancy leaving a beautiful woman like me, eh? Can you believe it?’ She roared with laughter.

Melsom smiled weakly.

‘It was me that made the entries in the records, you know. Neat writing, eh? Did you read them? But that was only the medical details. The poor kitten had been strangled, then a week later the puppy came in. It was terrible. What kind of person could do that to a poor young animal? But you know all this already, don’t you?’

Jimmy nodded.

‘I think the animals were from the farm, you know, and had been taken onto the heath deliberately. One of the men who found them said that they’d seen an old sack thrown away by the rock. There were lots of kittens on that farm. The cats lived in the barn and kept the rats and mice away. They had dogs as well, and the one that came in was about the right size for a litter of collies that had been born a good few months before.’

‘But who would have done it? Killed them, I mean?’

‘And in that horrid way. It was just awful to see that puppy’s injuries. I remember hoping that it hadn’t suffered much.’ Maria’s face had lost its cheer. ‘There was a camp on the farm at the time. Some kind of youth group. They were using the field closest to the heath. I reckoned at the time that it was one of the lads from there. No other animals were ever found after they’d gone. They were a bunch of tearaways from some estate in Southampton. Most of them were fine, but there was a small group that went out looking for trouble. They were there for nearly two weeks.’

‘Can you remember anything else about them? The organisers? Anything like that?’

‘You’re asking a lot, young Jimmy. I think the organisers came every year for about three or four years, but with a different bunch of lads each time. I remember that they were from a church, but the lads weren’t. They were probably from the local parish, maybe a youth club or something. There was no problem any other year, but that group had a couple of nasty types in it, so I heard. The leader’s name was Paul. That’s all I remember. He was there each year. The church? I don’t know. It was somewhere over on the east side of the city in a rough area. I think it was a modern building. Well, that’s the picture I have in my mind, so it must have got there somehow. Maybe from talking to him, cos I can’t think how else I’d get a picture in my head.’ She stopped. ‘And that’s it. I can’t remember anything else. So do I get my kiss now?’

She looked at him solemnly, and then burst into laughter. ‘Your face is priceless. You can come visit again anytime, young man.’

Melsom finished his cup of tea and left hastily.

* * *

‘This might be leading somewhere, Jimmy,’ Barry Marsh said. ‘It looked like a no-hoper when that old chap first called in, but something’s coming out of it. Well done. Look, I could leave it all to you since it’s really your baby, but I do know a DS in Southampton. It might save time if I contact her to see if she can identify the church. Is that okay by you? If she can’t help us then I think the boss knows a DI there.’

‘Sure. Go ahead.’

Marsh phoned through to Gwen Davis, a detective sergeant in the Southampton city force. He told her what they knew about the church and the youth group and asked if she could help narrow down the possibilities.

‘From what you’ve described I’d guess three, Barry. Two Anglican and one RC, and all in the East End. The area was flattened by bombing in the last war, so most of the buildings date back to the fifties. The two Anglican ones are St Crispin’s and Oakfield Parish. The RC one is St Bede’s. They’re your best bets. Get back to me if they don’t work out, and I’ll have another think.’

‘Thanks, Gwen. How are you, by the way?’

‘I’m fine. Let me know if you fancy meeting up for a meal or a drink. I’m still around, you know.’

‘Okay, Gwen.’

Melsom was grinning at him when he looked up.

‘You didn’t hear that, Jimmy. But you’re allowed to have heard the earlier bits.’

‘Sorry, boss. Didn’t catch any of the church information. Selective hearing.’

Marsh tore off the page of notes and passed it across. He waved Melsom away and settled back to his own work. He was still trying to make sense of the complex web of contacts for the farmhouse bookings and harbour records. The two farmhouses had been rented out by different letting agencies and to different clients. An agency in Poole let Brookway Farm and one in Bournemouth let Marsh Copse Farm. This latter farm had only been occupied for a few days. Those agencies had been acting on behalf of different clients who turned out to be a small finance and loan company based in Kidderminster and an estate agent office in Weymouth. Marsh had contacted all the organisations in the chain so far, but had made little progress. Each time he moved one level back in the complex web he merely uncovered another level that gave up no really useful information. Each organisation claimed to be merely acting on behalf of another, with all contact being done by telephone. He decided to follow the trail of payments. Bank accounts wouldn’t lie.