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.