Episode 22 - Loose ends

Tuesday cont.

At HQ, Nigel was still preoccupied with Henry’s accounting, but not too busy to order pizzas for himself and Gary. Romano brought them personally and a discussion of Gary's mother-in-law's shortcomings could not be avoided.

Episode 21 - Brad Bailey

Tuesday

At midnight, Ian Bailey was startled out of his regular sofa siesta by loud knocking. The TV volume was turned up, but not too high to hear that the front door was being thumped.

“Rosie, answer the door!” he shouted.

Episode 20 - Closing in

Monday

Further questioning did not elicit more information from Ian Bailey. There was no reason to think that he had anything to do with what had now become the Bailey case, and absolutely no reason to think that Brad was being protected by Ian.

Episode 19 - The devil is in the detail

Sunday cont then Monday

Gary confessed to Cleo over their nightcap coffee that Dorothy had been like a breath of fresh air with her theories and enthusiasm. He owed it to her to follow up everything she had suggested.

Episode 18 - Some progress made

Sunday

Dorothy could not resist the temptation to call Gary and rebuke him for allowing scaremongering it the Gazette and Cop’s corner. She thought it was frightening people to write vague hints about being in danger of being eaten – possibly alive.

Interim

Sunday late morning

Cleo phoned as I was just about to go out and do some tidying in the garden. The video conference had been cancelled.

Episode 17 - Colleagues and Councelors

Saturday cont. then Sunday

As Cleo prophesied over the nightcap coffee she and Gary always drank when the day was ending, Mia and Greg’s shoptalk had morphed into a romantic tryst. Gary admitted that he had seen Greg gazing at Mia, but did not think he would enter into a relationship so soon after his sobering experience with Rosie, who obliged Greg to reward her willingness to ‘have fun’ with precious trinkets or expensive garments bearing a fashion label.

Episode 16 - You couldn't make it up

Saturday cont.

After Bailey had left and Nigel had gone back to sorting out Henry’s document chaos, Mia hovered at Gary’s desk. She obviously wanted to talk to him and he was only too glad to a take the opportunity to ask her about knowing Bailey.

Episode15 - Dogs

Saturday

Gary was about to leave for HQ when his mobile phone rang. It was Chris wanting to know if the DNA he had received from Nigel was part of the cannibal case.

“We’re moving away from that theory, Chris. Bailey had two large, fierce dogs guarding his property – the sort described by Conan Doyle. I had the misfortune to experience them yesterday.”

“Did they attack you?”

“No, but I think they would have liked to.”

“This new idea tallies, Gary. There were one or two scratch marks on the bones. I thought they were from an unleashed man-eater with a serrated knife, but…”

“We still haven’t counted out that possibility, but we think it more likely that those dogs found Brad Bailey unconscious and made a meal of him.”

“We being…?”

“Nigel and me, though Cleo had already hinted that there were alternatives to the cannibal theory. Nigel was first to hit on the idea of the dogs.”

“Noble of you to admit it!” said Chris, who was often sceptical about theories emanating from the cottage in Upper Grumpsfield, but had on more than one occasion been forced to eat his words.

“To be honest, blood-thirsty dogs never occurred to me, Gary. If there’s any chance of them being the perpetrators, they should be shot immediately. Once a vicious dog has smelt blood, there’s no stopping it. Can’t you can shoot an animal on suspicion?”

“Yes. I’ll deal with it now. Let me know about the DNA.”

“Of course.”

***

Gary immediately phoned security, a department not talked about at HQ, but which existed to control crowds, free hostages and deal with any dangerous incidents. He talked to a keen young man named Pete, who was new to Gary but assured him that he was a trained member of the security team. He would go to the farm in Lower Grumpsfield with a second combat-trained cop and they would take care of the dogs without delay.

“I’ll meet you there, say in about 2 hours?”

“OK, though we could deal with it on our own. Can I ask why we are taking this action?”

“Those dogs have probably savaged a human being, the son of the farmer at the address you are to go to.”

“That’s only about one up on cannibalism,” commented Pete.

“So you’ve heard about that, have you?” said Gary.

“News gets around, Sir.”

“It was a valid theory and supported by forensics, but there’s good reason to believe that the dogs are guilty.”

“At least we can shoot them,” said Pete. “It’s not so easy to pin down human gangsters in this country. In the USA they have fewer scruples…”

“… and more weapons, Pete.”

“I think it makes them feel invincible, Sir.”

“I’ll come in with a patrol car and we’ll take Bailey, the farmer and owner of the dogs, into custody. Even if our theory is not correct, those dogs have to go. There’s no place for such animals in a country village and I want to question Mr Bailey urgently about them and his fugitive – or dead - son. He’s been gone years and has not been reported missing.”

“Most fighting dogs are reared secretly,” said Pete. “You can’t keep them in a town flat and they need to practise on living creatures, such as lambs or even cattle. There are clubs where those dogs can mangle one another. The members place bets. His dog surviving such a conflict is considered a feather in the owner’s cap.”

“You sound like an expert, Pete.”

“It pays to be informed, Sir.”

***

Gary phoned Gisela and ordered an unmarked patrol car. She was curious, but Gary did not explain. He would accompany the patrol car in his own vehicle. The team were to come to his office for instructions within the next half hour.

“I hope one of them is available.”

“Make sure I get one, Gisela. This is life and death stuff.”

“Don’t you want the security van then?” Gisela asked, bursting with curiosity even more after Gary’s dramatic statement.

“No, not this time, but I’d like to think it is on the HQ parking lot, Gisela. You might get a request for it before the weekend’s out.”

“Don’t rub it in, Gary,” Gisela retorted. “We all make mistakes.”

***

Gary was unsure about using the security van, so he rang Pete and was reassured that his team had their own unmarked car and would do their job and leave. It was up to Gary what he did with Bailey.

“We use horses, too,” Pete added rather flippantly. “But I assume you’d prefer us to be motorised.”

“I’m quite sure, Pete. This isn’t a royal walk-about. It’s a nasty business and I’m grateful to have you on board. I’m not sure a motorway patrol team would be up to shooting dogs except in self-defence, and even then…”

***

By 11 a.m. everything was organised. Gisela had indeed found a patrol crew busy collecting their Christmas fund from unaware drivers in a speed control on country roads. The patrol cops were glad to be freed of this chore, since motorists tended to get angry when caught speeding. A crime-related mission was more to their taste and they thought a security team was superfluous.

“Wait till you see those dogs,” said Gary. “You’re safer facing motorists – usually.”

The security team left first with Gary close behind in Cleo’s red car (that had once been his before he changed to a van large enough to accommodate the whole family) and the patrol car followed at the rear. The security team would go straight in. Gary had prepared them for Bailey hurrying out of his back door with the two dogs on his heels. They were obedient. If he said “get him”, the hounds moved fast. Bailey was not usually armed.

***

Not wanting to be seen prematurely, Gary watched from behind bushes outside the farmyard. The patrol team would wait for a signal.

As Gary had expected, Bailey spotted Pete and his colleague as soon as they entered the farmyard, albeit via a fence rather than the gate. Within seconds he was outside with his dogs growling to defend their master. Gary was familiar with the kind of welcome Bailey offered anyone who strayed onto the farm property. Pete and his colleague were wearing protective clothing and held their pistols ready. They waited until Bailey sent the dogs to attack then fired shots that brought both dogs down. Waiting until last minute was a precaution since they could then justify their action by stating that it was self-defence, should there be legal consequences taken by Bailey.

“You’ll pay for that,” shouted Bailey.

“We’re just doing our job, Sir,” said Pete.

They checked that the dogs were dead, aiming a close-range shot into the heart of each of them to be absolutely certain, wished Bailey a good day, and left.

Gary emerged from behind the bushes and strode towards Bailey, who was now crouched by the dogs. Gary was unmoved. He had signalled to the patrol team to join him. They were horrified.

“Those dogs were my faithful companions,” said Bailey, genuinely overcome.

“Were they? I’d like to know a bit more about them,” said Gary. “The patrol team is taking you to HQ for questioning.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“If that’s the case, you’ll be released and can see to the burial of your faithful companions,” said Gary.

“And if I refuse to leave them?”

“No problem,” said Gary. “I’ll simply arrest you on suspicion of inciting your doggy friends to kill my colleagues.”

***

Gary felt the need to talk to Cleo before he tackled Bailey’s questioning, so he phoned her from his car. Cleo was sympathetic but adamant that he should not put himself in a weak position by admitting that he was theorising.

“This isn’t theory,” said Gary. “The guy is guilty of something and I’d like to know what. Chris discovered scratch marks on the bones, Cleo.”

“Sure, but don’t completely forget the anthropophagy. It’s still an option.”

***

“What happened to your son, Mr Bailey?” Gary opened without any preamble except to indicate that the interview was being recorded. He had taken the precaution of inviting Mia Curlew to take notes, since Nigel was busy sorting out Henry’s document chaos, but Nigel said he needed a break and wanted to see how Bailey would react. So Mia sat well back and Nigel got ready to ask questions of his own.

“He left.”

“You told us that. Where did he go?” said Gary.

“I’ve no idea, Sir.”

Bailey’s contempt for the situation was apparent.

“Hurley’s the name. Did you know he was planning to leave)?”

“No.”

“Do you think he went home to his mother?”

“She’s dead.”

“How do you know that, Mr Bailey,” Nigel asked.

“I heard from a lawyer.”

“Did she leave you anything?”

“A bastard bearing my name.”

“That’s Ian Bailey. Do you know him?”

“No, and I don’t want to.”

“OK. That’s understandable.”

“It isn’t. The hussy two-timed me, Hurley.”

“So you got a divorce, but you are still very angry.”

“I did not get a divorce. I sent the woman money to a Post Office somewhere in Scotland in return for her never coming back.”

“But you sacrificed your son that way,” said Nigel, who did not approve of Gary making a martyr of someone who might be a killer.

“I wrote the kid off,” said Bailey.

“But you took him in as an adult,” said Gary.

“He was half dead. I had to do something.”

“Very noble of you,” said Nigel, “although he was not to blame for your miserable marriage.”

***

“Can we change the subject?” said Bailey.

“Why not? What happened the night your son left?” said Gary.

“We had a fight,” said Bailey. “He was drunk and fell over on the cobbles. I left him to sober up.”

“Did he return to the house?”

“No. I got up early and went to look for him, but he was nowhere to be found, so I assumed that he had done what he wrote in his message, and left.”

“So he had written the farewell note earlier when he was sober, is that right?” said Nigel.

“Yes. It was still in the old typewriter I only keep for sentimental reasons.”

“Instead of using a computer?”

“Yes.”

“Were the dogs loose at night?”

“Dogs?”

“Those black hounds that were shot this morning,” said Gary.

Bailey paused for a moment before starting to laugh. Eventually he had regained control.

“So that’s the drift, is it?”

“Could be,” said Nigel.

“Well, just for the record, I did not get those dogs until after Brad had left. The animal shelter can confirm that. They were retired fighting dogs. Fierce and loyal. A good defence against trespassers and other intruders.”

Gary and Nigel exchanged looks.

“Retired?” they said simultaneously.

“Why did you need the dogs?” Gary asked. “Yapping terriers would have done the trick.”

“I was afraid my son would come back. He hated me,” said Bailey. “He came to me because there was no one else to go to. He left as soon as he was able to deal with life again – or so he thought.”

“So what were the dogs supposed to do with your sone? Eat him?” said Nigel.

Bailey cowered, horror-stricken.

***

It was clear that further questioning on the basis of their dog theory was pointless. They could check on the sale of the dogs. What is more, why would a farmer want to house two trained fighter dogs other than to protect himself? They were hardly the race of dogs to round up sheep they would see as the enemy and attack.

“So you kept the dogs as pets,” said Gary.

“In the house unless strangers trespassed on my property. Bess, my sheepdog, lives in the old cow shed. She was never confronted by the fighter dogs.”

***

“We’ll end this interview now,” said Gary. “Subject to your having told the truth about where and when you acquired the dogs, you can go home. We have your DNA sample and I’ll let you know if the person we are trying to identify is your son.”

“We’ll get you home, Mr Bailey. Can you see to that, Nigel?” said Gary.

Mia Curlew closed her notebook and came up to Bailey.

“We’ve met before,” she said to him. “I wonder where.”

***

Later, Gary was to ask himself why Mia had spoken to Bailey.

Episode 14 - The name game

Friday

Nigel was glad of a breath of fresh air. His new job was going to take all his time, he conjectured, at least until he had got it down to a fine art.

Episode 13 - Nigel

Friday

Had he known about Dorothy’s phone-call to Nigel, Gary would have been thankful that she had chosen to ring Nigel instead of him. One reason for disliking phone-calls with Dorothy was that he usually found himself embroiled in some discussion or other.

Slow movement

Friday morning, early

It’s Dorothy Price again. You may not even have noticed that despite finding out who reported finding the corpse at Monkton Priory, I have been left in the dark about other aspects of the case and was forced to phone Nigel at the office to get what I think you would call an update, though it isn’t much of one, I admit.

Episode 12 - Bottles and Dostoevsky

Thursday

Gary marched a puzzlingly unwilling Sloane to the excavation site at the priory. After it became clear that Sloane had been telling the truth about the smashed bottle, however farfetched it had seemed, he rang Chris and asked him to turn out and examine the spot. Sloane hung around looking agitated. His restiveness did not escape Gary's notice.

Episode 11 - Birds and Bottles

Thursday

The drive to where Gig Shaw and Corrie had picked up the van to go on their outing was long enough for Corrie to become quite chatty.

Episode 10 - Vase and Van

Thursday

By the time Cedric Medoc arrived with the two high officials from Police Headquarters, Marie Medoc was in what she later described as ‘a state’, though at the time she thought she was in control.

Episode 9 - Klezmer

Thursday

Gary had torn himself away from a lively cottage breakfast to speed into HQ before Nigel could decide to go to Paddy’s farm on his own.

Episode 8 - The Threesome

Wednesday

Armed with a bagful of croissants and other delights from the only genuine French baker in Oxfordshire (or so Jean-Claude the proprietor claimed), Jim and Colin drove to the Hurley cottage and were heartily received by Gary, who had just arrived from shopping at the genuine English bakery in Upper Grumpsfield, run appropriately by a Mr Crumb supported by a wide-ranging assortment of relatives.

Episode 7 - AN-THRO-PO-PHA-GY

Tuesday cont.

Dorothy’s mission to find out who had informed the Gazette about the ‘headless corpse’ had been fulfilled thanks to Al’s explanation of why he thought his action was in the public interest. She did not want to dwell on the idea that Albert was just a teenager looking for sensationalism.

Episode 6 - The hideyhole

Tuesday cont.

Was the phone-call telepathic. Did Cleo realize how disgruntled Dorothy was?

Interlude

It’s me again. Remember me?  Dorothy Price? One of the original Upper Grumpsfield sleuths?

The goings-on at Monkton Priory have not gone unnoticed by me, but I am disappointed that I am not being invited to share in the project. After all, I did put Cleo onto the Monks in the first place.

Episode 5 - The wall

Tuesday

Mr Sloane had heard nothing from the forensic team, so having notified Al, he expected im to turn up at around 10 a.m. Sloane wrenched himself out of Joyce’s bed and made his way to the priory at about 7 armed with a torch and an umbrella and did what Al would otherwise have had to do.

Episode 4 - Start the week- ...

Monday

True to his word, Chris put together a forensic team to start their research as soon as it was light enough.

Episode 3 - 'dem bones

Weekend cont.

Cleo’s phone-call home from what was now a burial site produced a series of expletives from Gary for being called into action on his free day, but he promised to get things moving, and he did.

His call to Chris, forensic scientist and general factotum at HQ when it came to clue-gathering and investigating causes of death, was less volatile, but it was clear that no time was to be wasted. In that case would Gary please tell Cleo that he was on his way and would notify his assistant, Ned. Could they please wait there for him?

***

Chris and Ned were there fast. They had been on duty at HQ and were glad of some fresh air.

Cleo introduced Joyce and Sloane to the forensic team.

“It was my idea to find the ecclesiastical treasures,” Sloane confessed. “I didn’t know what I was letting myself in for. This never happened in Egypt.”

Chris refrained from asking about Egypt, though he could see at first glance that he was conversing with an eccentric. Mr Sloane was wearing the sort of gear you see in films about archaeological digs and Chris certainly did not want to get involved in the stories told by a person he had decided on sight was tedious and pedantic (which he was) and acted much older than his years (which he did despite his scintillating Saturday night)..

One look at the bones that had been dug up convinced Chris that there had been a crime, not three hundred but at the most three years ago. The minute scraps of flesh on the bones were there thanks to the preservative quality of the soil, he said. A box was fetched for the human remains. A kind of sacred silence fell upon the little group as the bones were place gently in the box between bubble-wrap.

***

“Go home, now, you folks,” he told the three onlookers. “There’s nothing you can do here. We’ll collect any human remains we find and come back tomorrow morning to continue our research. It’s etting too dark now.”

“Was it murder?” Sloane wanted to know.

“It probably was,” said Chris, “but I need time to investigate before committing myself, Mr Sloane.”

***

Back at the cottage, Cleo thought long and hard about the situation. If it was murder, who was it? You can’t identify anyone from a few bones. Joyce and Mr Sloane declined the invitation to stay for coffee. Cleo thought they had better things to do, but that they were mismatched would soon find that out. Gary thought it was quite a conquest by Sloane. Joyce must be desperate, he told Cleo.

“Weren’t you ever desperate, Gary?”

“I don’t remember.”

“I do, Sweetheart.”

***

The rest of the day was devoted to the children, with intermittent comments bandied about, such as “If it was murder, what are you going to do about it, Gary?” or “Are you going to cancel the dig now, Cleo?”

“I wonder if our chief archaeologist went back to the scene of the crime?” Gary asked.

“That’s what the perpetrators do, isn’t it?” said Cleo.  “I expect Sloane and Joyce went off on a mutual mysterious mission.”

“With revelations,” said Gary. “But surely not with Joyce.”

“She seemed to be keen on seeing Mr Sloane. That’s why she came to the priory.”

“It takes all sorts, I suppose.”

“Opposites attract,” said Cleo. “Look at us!”

Gary looked perplexed.

“One man and one woman! If the world lasts long enough there will be a return to procreation followed by Ancient Rome and anything goes.”

“We’ve already returned to procreation, I thought, and I don’t need the rest.”

“So let’s wait for Chris’s findings and enjoy the rest of the day in peace and perfect harmony.”

“I do believe you are serious, Cleo.”

“Not really. I find it difficult to get away from a case,” said Cleo,” and this one is as weird as they come.”

“It hasn’t started yet,” said Gary.

“Have you noticed how crime cases creep up on you?”  said Cleo.

“Frequently.”

“This time someone was killed, taken apart and buried in the priory grounds. People will say it’s an omen. Like the Tutenchamun curse. Disturbing the dead and all that.”

“Rubbish,” Gary scoffed. “This wasn’t a sacred burial in a pyramid. This was cold-blooded murder followed by cannibalism and burial in the back garden of a ruined priory. Keep it in proportion, Cleo.”

That was questionable advice followed by an urgent call from Chris.

***

“It’s the head, Gary.”

“What about the head?”

“I’ve pieced the bones together. The body parts are complete and it was a male about five feet ten tall and young, but there was no skull, not even in bits.”

“That means we can’t identify him, doesn’t it?” said Gary.

“A dental xray is the best chance of that, but no jaw, no xray reference,” said Chris. “I’ll send a big team to the priory tomorrow morning and turn over more of that area, but I’m not hopeful. A person wanting to bury something does not usually dig several holes. In fact, burying them at all suggests some kind of ritual reverence or regret. People bent enough or crazyenough to indulge in cannibalistic rituals have often instructed their eaters what to do. Eating your lover is to them the deepest form of sexual activity.”

“Good God. What sort of books do you read, Chris?”

“Not that kind, though it exists,” said Chris. “I’m not spouting a theory either, Gary. I’m talking fact.”

“So I should be actively looking for left-over cannibals who devour one another for sexual kicks until there’s only one left, should I?”

“More or less.”

“How long have the bones been there?”

“Two years at the most. Normally there would be no traces of flesh on them, but they were in a plastic sack that had disintegrated enough at the seam for the contents to fall out when disturbed by the digging process.”

“So our cannibal was climate conscious too, was he? I mean, using bio-degradable bags.”

“Don’t make jokes, Gary. This is a serious business. We are dealing with dangerous crackpots. Their behaviour is subhuman. They persuade their victims to want to die and be eaten.”

“What about DNA? If there was the slightest trace of human remains they should be identifiable with DNA from the bones.”

“Bone marrow would do, as well, Gary, and I’ll deal with that tomorrow. Have we had cannibals at HQ before?”

“We can ask Colin Peck if there’s anything in the records,” said Gary. “But not tonight. Thanks for answering Cleo’s appeal so fast, Chris.”

“Not at all. It’s a new challenge,” said Chris. “Talking about Cleo, does she have any experience with the kind of behaviour - professionally, of course?”

“I don’t know. We’ve never felt the need to discuss cannibalism.”

“See you tomorrow then,” said Chris. “You can take a look at the bones of you want to.”

“Should I want to?”

“Not really. Now if we had the skull …”

***

Half an hour later, Chris phoned Gary to say that he hoped these human remains were going to be a one off macabre trophy, but he couldn’t guarantee it. There were records of serial cannibals on-line and in national newspaper archives. The world was full of crackpots. Did he remember the politician who put a plastic bag over his head to induce some kind of sex kick? He was found dead – asphyxiated.”

“What a way to go,” Gary commented.

“The vice squad should be in on this case, Gary.”

“Mia Curlew is the vice squad,” Gary retorted. “I can’t put her on to such perverts.”

“You can. She has better nerves than you.”

“Thanks for that. I’ll think about the suggestion.”

“Get her in the team. I think she’ll be more use than Greg.”

“If you think so.”

“I do.”