Chris Simms - Savage Moon

Rick gulped back his tea. 'Well, good to see you, Alice. We'll have to get Jon to baby-sit so we can go out. How about the cinema?'

She glanced up. 'Maybe in a while. I couldn't leave Holly for that long yet.'

'Course. When you're ready.'

Shocked by his wife's rudeness, Jon stood. 'Right, we'd better be going. I'll ring you. Hopefully it won't be a late one tonight.'

'OK,' she said. The word was full of casual cheer but she didn't meet either of their eyes.

As they walked to the car, Jon clicked on the message.

'Fucking hell.'

'What?'

'The hairs found on Rose Sutton and Derek Peterson? They weren't from the panther shot this morning.'

Rick's mouth fell open. 'That means there's another one out there.'

'Who fucking knows. We need to get back to the station though.' As he started the engine he looked at Rick. 'She isn't right, is she?'

'No. My sister wouldn't admit it, not for months. You need to have a talk with her. I think she knows something's up.'

Jon's eyes were checking the rear view mirror as he pulled out. 'Yeah mate, and when the hell am I supposed to find the time to do that?'

Summerby was waiting for him back in the incident room. After updating his senior officer, Jon called everyone round the centre table. 'OK, let's see where everyone's at. First bit of news I have is that the DNA of the panther killed this morning does not, I repeat not, match the DNA from the panther hairs recovered from Peterson and Sutton.'

He watched as the information sank in. DC Gardiner was the first to speak. 'So not only is there a second animal out there, it's the one forensically linked to our victims.'

Everyone looked at Jon for his response. He gestured towards Gardiner. 'Forensically linked is the correct choice of words. That's all the link is. It doesn't conclusively prove a panther killed Peterson and Sutton.'

Murray gave a tentative cough. 'The PM on both victims talks about their injuries being caused by the same type of weapon. A multi-pronged implement. Now we have an actual panther carcass. It's indisputable this animal was living up on the moors. Doesn't that massively increase the possibility there's a second animal out there too?'

'Theoretically, yes. But I'll say again, this is a murder investigation. And we have a prime suspect called Danny Gordon.' He saw the door to the incident room open. McCloughlin stepped through, moving silently along the wall and taking up a position at the edge of Jon's vision.

'Don't mind me.'

Jon tried to resume where he'd left off, but his mind was suddenly blank.

Summerby uncrossed his arms. 'Any word from Aberdeen yet?'

The office manager spoke up. 'They rang in half an hour ago.'

Looking down at a piece of paper, he continued. 'Michael Close is on a week's climbing holiday on the Isle of Skye. Up in the Cuillins apparently and not contactable by phone.'

'Hang on,' Jon said. 'The local nick were meant to check he was available for questioning.'

The other man was still looking down at the message. 'A mix up of dates. He's due back day after tomorrow. Rhea and Ashford are wondering what to do.'

Jon looked away. A day to drive back down, only to then turn round and head straight back up. Shit. Two of his Outside Enquiry Team out of action. 'Tell them to book into a hotel and see if you can send anything up there for them to do. Even if it's just typing up reports for entering into HOLMES. Right, what about Lee Welch?'

Murray opened his notebook. 'Reckons he bumped into Gordon a maximum of four times since their days in the Silver, as he called it. He wasn't the most willing of people I've interviewed, but he claimed they had nothing more than casual chats.'

'Did he have anything to say about Peterson?'

'Not a lot. Said he kept contact with the screws to a minimum.'

Jon wanted to laugh at Welch's choice of words. His whole life had been a rehearsal for his inevitable progression to adult prison.

'Gordon's probation officer?'

'Yes, boss,' Gardiner replied. 'He signed Gordon off last year and hasn't had cause to see him again since. When he had him on his books Gordon was living in a squat in Openshaw. We called at the address, it's still being used as a doss house today. There were a few in there. They hadn't seen Gordon for a few days, said he sometimes hung around with a black guy called Jammer. Medium height, dreadlocks.'

'How's the name spelt?'

Gardiner's shoulder rose and fell. 'They weren't sure. He was just known as Jammer.'

'Anything on the PNC?'

'Nope.'

'OK, what else?'

DC Collins spoke up. 'I had this Jammer person mentioned to me too. I dropped by at the soup kitchen that parks up behind the Piccadilly Tandoori.'

Jon knew the restaurant, a crooked white building that stood marooned on a patch of waste ground opposite the station. He'd fallen in there once after a drinking session round town. Never again. Behind it was a smattering of benches and clusters of bushes. Not near any shops, it had been colonised by a collection of drunks who could be found there at most times of the day, lolling around in various states of oblivion. 'What did the piss- heads have to say?'

'No one had seen him for a few days either. Someone thought Jammer had got hold of some cash, so they'd be getting off their heads at his place.'

'Which is?'

'They didn't know.'

Jon felt no more than a pang of irritation. The net was closing round Gordon. He'd circulate his photo to the entire police force. It shouldn't take long before they hauled him in.

'What about computers?'

Jon turned to Rick. 'What's that?'

'Any sign of a computer in that squat?' Rick asked Gardiner.

'Computers? They didn't even have electricity.'

'If he was tracking Peterson's movements through Swinger's Haven, he needed access to a computer. Perhaps we should start asking round the internet cafes and local libraries.'

Jon nodded to the allocator. 'Get that actioned. And everyone add this Jammer character to your list. We need him traced and interviewed. Next, Rose Sutton's associates. How's that going?' Gardiner consulted her notes again. 'Thrived on the farm life. Content and cheerful. Seemed like a lovely marriage.' She looked up. 'More comments like that. She appeared to have found herself a happy role in life.'

Bollocks, thought Jon. 'Never be taken in by public personas. There must have been a downside, there's always at least one.' Images of his despondent wife, crying baby and abandoned dog vied for position in his head.

'One person mentioned seeing her crossing some fields to a car park near Holme once or twice. The lady said there was a guilty look about her. The only other thing that seemed worth noting was the issue of losing sheep to the mystery panther. But even then, she viewed it very pragmatically. She would report anything to Hobson, reckoning he was the only person capable of catching it.'

Hobson's name again. It was cropping up too much. 'Ken Sutton suspected his wife of something. The officer at Mossley Brow, Adam Clegg, was holding back on me too. I want to know if Jeremy Hobson and Rose Sutton were having an affair. Let's check him out properly. Is he married? Where does he live? He's an authority on big cats. Where did he study? Now, switching back to Peterson, I don't suppose the door-to-door provided much?'

Adlon shook his head. 'He was regarded as a bit of a recluse. Would nod hello and that was it. Never had any visitors.'

Thought as much, Jon thought. 'OK, you and Paul can have Hobson. Dig around a bit, but keep it discreet. DS Saville and myself talked to James Field. He hadn't seen Gordon in years, but he did provide us with enough information to suspect Peterson was using his capacity as a supervisor in the care home to abuse Gordon and a number of other boys. I have some surnames here. Once Gordon's in custody we'll need to trace these people. As far as I'm aware, none ever made a formal complaint against Peterson, but I bet a few drank a toast to the man's death. Right, let's get going.'