“You get used to it,” said Hamish callously. “Once they’re dead, it’s just clay.”
“What do you expect to find at this wildlife park?” asked Josie.
“I want to dig into the character of Annie Fleming. Her parents were very strict. Maybe she’d begun to rebel. Maybe she’d got into bad company.”
Hamish turned up the muddy road leading to the park. A sign hung crookedly at the entrance. Hamish slowed to a stop and read the board. It said WILDLIFE PARK, PROPS, JOCASTA AND BILL FREEMONT.
They drove in past empty cages towards a hut with a sign saying OFFICE.
A woman came out to meet them. She was in her mid-thirties with two wings of fair hair hanging on either side of a thin face. She was wearing a shabby navy sweater over a grey shirt and jeans tucked into Wellington boots.
“Mrs. Freemont?” asked Hamish.
“I’ll say one thing for you. You’re quick,” said Mrs. Jocasta Freemont. “I just phoned ten minutes ago.” Her voice was upper-class.
Hamish turned and surveyed the cages. “Someone let them all out?”
“Exactly. Damn animal libbers.”
“You say you’ve just discovered the vandalism,” said Hamish. “Didn’t you notice first thing this morning?”
“I’ve just got back from Edinburgh with Bill. That secretary of ours was supposed to open up.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t get your call,” said Hamish. “Annie Fleming has been murdered.”
“What! You’d better come into the office.” She went ahead of them, shouting, “Bill! Something awful has happened.”
A small man with a shock of grey hair was sitting at a desk. He rose when they all walked in. He was quite small in stature and wearing a grey flannel suit, silk shirt, and blue silk tie. Hamish wondered cynically whether the trip to Edinburgh had been to see some bank manager. He wondered why Jocasta was wearing working clothes.
“What’s up?” he asked. “I mean, what’s mair awful than some loons robbing us?”
“Annie’s been murdered,” said Jocasta.
“She can’t be!” said Bill. “Who’d want to murder Annie? How did it happen?”
“A letter bomb,” said Hamish. “I’ve a few questions to ask you but we’ll concentrate on your missing beasts first. What did you have?”
“We hadn’t much because we were really just starting up. Let me see, a pair of minks, a snowy owl, two parrots, a lion-”
“A lion!” exclaimed Hamish. “What on earth were you doing with a lion?”
“I got it from a circus. It was old. I think it’ll come back round for food.”
“What else?”
Bill gave a dismal little catalogue. Then he said, “I’m waiting for the SSPCA, and the zoo in Strathbane is sending some people up wi’ tranquilliser guns.”
“Look,” said Hamish, “we’ll need to put out a warning that a lion’s on the loose.”
He went outside and phoned Daviot. “I’ll mobilise some men,” said Daviot, “and tell the newspapers and television.”
“Thank you, sir. I’d best get back to the Annie Fleming investigation.”
Hamish hesitated before going back into the hut. It was an odd marriage, surely. Jocasta looked as if she came from a moneyed background whereas Bill was definitely lower down the scale and, from his accent, came from the south of Scotland. He wondered whether it was Jocasta’s money that had set up this dismal excuse for a wildlife park. It was not on his beat-being covered by Strathbane-but despite the missing wildlife, he was sure the air of failure that hung over the place had been there from the start.
The sky above had turned a bleached white colour heralding rain to come.
There came a screech of tyres. First on the scene were officers from the Scottish Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. They’ll never get their park back, thought Hamish. Even if all the beasts were found, those officers would take one look at the mangy cramped cages and shut the place down.
Then came Detective Sergeant Andy MacNab with two policemen. “I’ll take over, Hamish,” he said.
“I’d like to ask them about Annie Fleming.”
“It’ll need to wait, Hamish. Daviot’s got his knickers in a twist about thon lion.”
Hamish called Josie out of the office. “We can’t do anything more here today. We’d best be getting back to Braikie.”
He drove up the drive and turned off on the road leading back towards Braikie.
Josie felt hungry. “Could we stop somewhere for lunch?” she asked.
“We’ll get something in Braikie. Heffens above!”
He screeched to a halt and Josie let out a scream of terror. A lion was standing in the middle of the road.
“I’ll chust see if I can be talking to it,” said Hamish.
“Are you mad!”
Hamish got out and went to the back of the Land Rover, where he had a haunch of venison given to him by a keeper the evening before. It was wrapped in sacking. He took it out and waved it at the lion. The great beast approached cautiously. Hamish tossed the haunch into the back of the Land Rover. The lion jumped in and Hamish slammed the back doors.
He climbed back in the front. “We’ll chust be taking the lion to that zoo in Strathbane. I am not having the beastie returned to that dreadful park.”
Josie wrenched open the passenger door and jumped out on the road. “It’ll kill us.”
“It’s locked off in the back.”
“I’m not getting in there.”
“Suit yourself,” said Hamish. He did a U-turn and sped off in the direction of Strathbane.
The zoo in Strathbane, he knew, was well run, unlike most of the rest of that dismal town. He wondered why he hadn’t been met on the road, feeling sure that Josie would have phoned to say he had a dangerous animal in the back of the Land Rover. He did not know that Josie had found the batteries in her phone had died. He stopped briefly on the road to phone Daviot and say the lion had been caught.
At the zoo, the head keeper cautiously opened the rear doors of the Land Rover. The lion was asleep.
“I don’t think the poor lion needs a tranquilliser gun,” said Hamish. “I should guess it’s awfy old. It came from some circus so it’ll be used to folks.”
Daviot had phoned the local papers, and several reporters and photographers were gathered.
“No flash pictures,” ordered Hamish. “It’s waking up. Let me see if I can get it out. Come on, boy. It’s all right.”
The lion blinked at him and slowly rose to its feet. The remains of the haunch of venison were lying beside it. “Now then,” cooed Hamish. “That’s the ticket. Slowly now. Just one wee jump. There we are.”
The lion stood beside him. The keeper said, “Maybe if you follow me to the cage, it’ll follow you.”
“It had better be a good big cage,” said Hamish.
“Och, it leads onto a bit of a field and a big auld tree,” said the keeper.
Hamish followed him and the lion followed Hamish. Once at the cage, Hamish walked into it with the lion behind him. The keeper opened a sack he had been carrying and threw a lump of meat into the cage.
The lion fell on it and Hamish slowly exited the cage. “Turn those lights off,” snarled Hamish at a television crew, “and give the lion a bit o’ peace.”
Hamish drove back to the wildlife park. The rain had begun to fall. Josie was standing outside
