The Skeleton Man

‘I agree. But despite being inadequate, and possibly violent, they are also clearly ambitious. They’re trying to get noticed, Dryden. They wouldn’t have phoned you otherwise. But they don’t just want to be famous in the local paper, or even the national papers. I think they want to be admired by the nasty bastards, the leadership. Yes, they’re out of their depth, and they’ve already made a string of mistakes, but it would actually be in our interests if they did attract the attention of the people we’re really after. And they’ll do that if they succeed, or at least think they’re going to succeed. Which is where you come in.’

Dryden held up both palms by way of surrender.

‘So this is the deal. They have your mobile number. They told Peyton they would ring you for his decision and expect a story in The Crow. We want you to tell them Henry Peyton will shut Sealodes Farm down, and go into early retirement, but only if he gets back the bones of his beloved wife first, or more accurately the old bones they think are his wife’s. He also wants the dogs – up front and unharmed – before he makes any irreversible decisions about Sealodes Farm. Peyton’s in his late sixties, there’s been talk of him retiring anyway. Tell ’em he’s had an offer for the land and he’s going to take it. In effect they’ve struck gold, they hit him just at the moment he was at his weakest.’

‘And we expect them to swallow that, do we? They can’t really be that stupid,’ said Dryden.

‘Well, I wouldn’t count on it. I’ll talk you through the forensics on the Peyton tomb later but I think we can say that we’re dealing with some consummate idiots here; they’re only still at large thanks to beginners’ luck. But as I say, there’s evidence they are not just a renegade group – there are links up the chain. And that’s where we need to get, Dryden, up the chain.’

‘Evidence?’

‘Phone taps. There was some local radio coverage of the first raid on Sealodes Farm, a bit in the evening papers. One of the men in the East Midlands the central unit is tracking was followed shortly afterwards to Ely. Our guess is he was checking the locals out, trying to get a handle. Either they’d contacted him or he’d seen the story.’

‘Where’d he go?’

Shaw’s blue water eyes were unblinking. ‘Local surveillance lost him.’ The detective brought his hands together in a church.

‘Anyway, our friends want an answer. And they want you to give it to them. They told Peyton they’d ring you tonight – before The Crow’s Thursday deadline. They’ll use a call box again. If you give me your details we’ll try to get it traced – presuming they’re still under the impression you haven’t talked to the police. I think we’re pretty safe here.’ He smiled, and Dryden found it difficult not to respond.

‘When they call I’d like you to tell them there’s nothing going in the paper about the closure until they hand over the bones. I’d like you to ask to meet them to hand over the goods. Perhaps you could tell them you want a brief interview – that it isn’t much of a story without it, just try and make it clear that if they want publicity you want to meet. We have local ALF sympathizers under surveillance, all run from here. If one of them is involved we’ll get the lot, and the bones, and you get the story.’

Dryden tried to think it through, knowing something was wrong. ‘But why would Henry Peyton play ball? You catch ’em and there’s a court case, then every animal rights nutter in the country will be heading for Sealodes Farm. They haven’t got his wife’s bones, just the dogs. Why not call their bluff?’

Shaw got himself another mineral water. ‘Well, firstly because that might not work. Does he really want a long slow war of attrition? He’s no spring chicken but he’d like to leave the business to his son, or possibly sell it as a going concern to one of his big customers, and neither of those options is that attractive if the farm is an ongoing target. He’d like to solve the problem. We’ve offered him a solution.’

‘Which is?’

‘Well, think about it. Getting the local people into court will serve little long-term good. The idea is to trade them in for information. They walk if we get the names, and the evidence, we need to move against the leadership in the East Midlands. We get one of them to start talking then we can crack the lot, including the people who did this.’

He held the picture up so Dryden could see it again. ‘We think they’ll have more to worry about than tracking the trail back to Ely. When it comes to court there’ll be no mention of Sealodes Farm. Peyton’s willing to take the chance, he’s smart enough to know it may be the only chance he’s got if he wants a happy, and wealthy, old age. So that’s our game.’

‘Yours. Or the people running this unit back in Lynn?’ asked Dryden.

‘That’s the plan,’ said Shaw, not answering, lacing his fingers across his eyes and rubbing the sockets.

‘But if it works we might see a timely promotion for DI Peter Shaw, a few less burglaries in future, right?’

Those water blue eyes again, giving nothing away.

Dryden stood. ‘OK. And if they don’t call?’

‘You can run the story – but no names. The farm is just that – a farm, somewhere near Ely. The story’s good enough without the detail.’

Dryden ran a hand along the files, fighting an urge to tell Shaw to stuff his plan. But there was always the other story. ‘And matey in the cellar? It still looks like a suicide, surely? There’s no link with animal rights there?’

Shaw smiled, and again it was difficult not to join in. ‘Take a look at this,’ he said. The childlike enthusiasm was infectious, and they hunched over a plan drawn on graph paper – about three foot by four foot. There was an etched outline of a room, expertly drawn.

‘It’s the cellar,’ said Shaw.

‘So you don’t think it’s suicide?’

Shaw shrugged. ‘Who cares what I think? I need to be sure it isn’t murder. My job’s to catch people who break the law. It’s pretty black and white. On this case I have two problems. Identifying the victim, and then working out if there’s any chance they were strung up by a person or persons unknown.’

‘What about the Smith twins?’