Find Them Dead

72 Friday 17 May

Twenty-five minutes later, Roy Grace drove along the track and pulled up outside his cottage. As he climbed out of his car into bright daylight, the sun still high in the sky, he heard the familiar bleating of sheep on the hill behind their house, but was surprised he couldn’t hear Humphrey. Normally the dog would be at the front door, barking his head off in greeting. Cleo was at home today. She was using the time to finish off her final modules and dissertation in order to complete her OU philosophy degree course.

He lifted his laptop bag off the rear seat and walked up the path, past the riot of flowers in their front garden, unlocked the front door and went in. No sign of the dog. ‘Hi!’ he called out, across the open-plan living-dining area. Cleo’s course papers were spread out across one of the sofas and the coffee table. Noah’s playthings were strewn around the floor.

‘Hi, darling!’ she replied, coming down the stairs, wearing a loose dress over her small baby bump.

He went over and kissed her as she reached the bottom, then asked, ‘Where’s Humphrey?’

As if in response, he heard the dog barking from somewhere at the rear of the house. ‘I’ve put him in the utility room.’

He frowned. ‘What’s happened?’

‘He started growling at Noah, again.’

‘What?’

‘Earlier this afternoon, Noah was playing in here quite happily. Then he stood up and toddled over to Humphrey, and as he tried to stroke him, Humphrey snarled at him. Like, a really menacing keep away snarl.’

‘Shit. He loves Noah.’

She nodded. ‘I thought so, too. They often rough and tumble together and I’ve always felt we could completely trust him with Noah. But this afternoon I was really scared he was going to go for him.’

‘Did Noah try to take his food or something?’

‘No. It was really weird. I put him straight into the utility room and left him there. It’s odd, Roy. It’s just so out of character. And he’s still got that limp, but I can’t work out which leg it is. I don’t want him near the kids when he’s like this. This is all we need right now, a problem dog.’

Grace frowned. ‘He’s not a problem dog, come on, there might be something up with him. I’ll get him to the vet and see what she says about the limp.’

‘Monday is the earliest appointment. Can you take him for 5.30 p.m.?’

‘You’re two steps ahead! I’ll happily take him, but we can’t keep them separated until then.’

‘We have to, Roy, I’m not risking it. Once we find out what is up then we can help him. Or...’

‘Or what? What were you going to say?’ Roy said, guardedly.

‘Well, I am just saying that we can’t have a dog who keeps growling and scaring our kids.’ She looked down and took a deep breath before carrying on. ‘Kaitlynn and Jack have just adopted Buster, that Yorkshire terrier who belonged to that poor lady found murdered in her home in Hove — Suzy Driver?’

‘Yes, what’s your point?’

‘Well, maybe they want a friend for Buster too?’

Roy stood, aghast. ‘No, no, no! Whatever’s up with Humphrey, we will sort it. We are not rehoming him. I thought you loved him?’

‘I do, Roy, but we have to think about the kids too. You weren’t here when he was growling.’

‘Let me sort it. Honestly. End of.’

Cleo looked closely at Roy. ‘OK, I’ll leave it with you, Mr Fixit. It’s been making me really stressed. And I do love him too.’

‘I need a drink.’

‘Go and sit down, I’ll get you something. You look shattered.’

‘It’s OK, I’ll get it.’

‘Is it Cassian Pewe again?’

‘Yep.’

‘You want a Martini? I’ll mix you one. Grey Goose, four olives?’

He smiled. ‘I can’t, I’m on call. I’ll have a sparkling water — a strong one,’ he said with a grin. ‘Anyhow, I always feel guilty when I have a drink and you can’t.’

She shook her head with a teasing smile. ‘You’re such a martyr — if it helps your guilt, after the baby is born and weaned, I’m damned well going to make up for it!’

He held her in his arms. ‘I’ll get Humphrey sorted, so stop stressing and focus back on you and bump two, OK?’

‘OK.’ She gave him a tight hug.

‘You know you can depend on me,’ he said.

She pursed her lips. ‘I actually quite like you, too. Now loosen your tie, take your jacket off, sit down, chill, and help me chill! A Detective Superintendent Grace special glass of sparkling water is on its way. Extra strong.’

He complied, untying and kicking off his shoes as well, then flopped down on the sofa opposite hers. Humphrey continued to bark. Moments later, Cleo let him in; he bounded over and jumped straight onto his lap.

Roy stroked him. ‘What’s all this about you growling at Noah?’ he asked, staring him in the eye.

Humphrey nuzzled up to him, the very picture of sweet innocence. Other than the arrival of the postman, which always set him off into a fury of barking, Roy Grace had never seen an ounce of aggression in the dog.

A few minutes later, Cleo handed him the glass and sat down beside him. ‘Just as Humphrey’s master likes it, I hope,’ she said, giving Humphrey a pat. ‘So, good day — bad day? Any update on charming Dr Crisp?’

Grace told her then added, ‘To be honest, and I really should not be saying this — or feeling it — much though I want to see this monster behind bars for the rest of his life, all the time he’s at large, I’m loving Cassian Pewe’s pain!’

‘Until Dr Crisp murders another young woman,’ she said.

Grace shook his head. ‘He’s going to be too busy saving his skin. He’ll know that every police officer in the UK has his photograph — and every Border Force officer. Any documents he has on him will either be stolen or forged. Unless he has a very clever Plan B, he’s going to be picked up within a few days.’

‘I hope you’re right.’

‘He’s in the last-chance saloon. He’s under arrest on charges that will ensure he’ll never see the outside of a prison wall again. He’s probably taken the view he has nothing to lose — but equally knows that he has little to gain. Unless he has a hidden stash of money or credit cards somewhere, he’s going to be stymied for money — without stealing it. He’s just having a laugh, a final fling, his last hurrah.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ Cleo said, dubiously.

‘So do I.’ He leaned across the dog to reach his glass. ‘So other than Humphrey snarling at Noah, how was your day?’

‘It started well with a lovely pregnancy massage at Sarah Hurst’s down in Brighton. The best massage ever! I think you could do with some massages to de-stress.’

‘Yep, but I’m not pregnant.’

She tried to hold back a smile and failed. ‘They do other types. I’m sure they have a stressed copper one.’

‘I could do with that.’

‘Oh, before I totally forget, I need to ask you something. I was chatting online on my class forum this morning. There’s a fellow student, nice lady who I’ve met a few times, Alison Stevens. She DM’d me because she wanted some advice for her daughter who’s doing a dissertation about jury service.’

‘Go on,’ he said, interested.

‘Well, she knows I’m married to a very important senior police officer,’ she said, buttering him up. ‘She needs to know how someone could nobble a jury. I said I’d ask you what you know.’

‘Yeah, I’d be happy to have a chat with her, if she wants. It won’t be for at least a couple of weeks as I’m tied up on this murder investigation.’

‘Fine, I’ll let her know.’

‘Jury nobbling does go on but not as often as people think. It’s pretty rare, these days.’