Chris Simms - Savage Moon

'Sorry?'

'You mentioned to me that you'd seen a leopard drag the carcass of a baby giraffe up a tree in a Kenyan game park.'

'Oh that. Yes, I've been to Kenya on three occasions.'

'Holidays?'

'And research. I stayed for a few weeks each time.'

'Does everyone speak English over there?'

'Mostly, yes.'

'What do they speak if it's not English?'

'There are a variety of tribal dialects. I'm not sure what they are.'

'You've no idea at all? Surely it helped to have a few words? Please, thank you, that sort of thing.'

'Afraid not.'

Jon regarded him, wondering if it was a mocking look he'd caught in those pale blue eyes. 'I take it you've seen the papers this morning?'

'Yes. I was surprised you released the story about the

Medlock. Won't that cause a fair amount of alarm?'

'It already has. And I didn't release that information. Someone else did.'

'By the way you're staring, I take it you think it was me?'

'Do you ever have dealings with Manchester Evening Chronicle reporters?'

'No. Other than with people in their promotions department, or if we have any interesting new births to report.'

'No one in their crime section?'

Hobson blinked, white lashes creating a haze at the edges of his eyes. 'Someone did come to visit me yesterday. She was asking about panthers. In fact, she was asking about you, DI Spicer.'

'How do you mean?'

'She wanted to know if I'd spoken to you. She seemed to have caught wind of the river theory. I suggested that she contact you directly.'

Something niggled at the back of Jon's mind. How did Carmel know he'd be there? His visit was unannounced, so Hobson didn't know he was on his way. Jon laid his palms on the table. 'When I last saw you, we spoke briefly about your relationship with Rose Sutton. I'd like to ask you a few more questions about that now.'

Hobson remained still, but Jon saw Clegg shift as he transferred his weight to the other foot.

'You're a bachelor, Mr Hobson?'

'I am.'

'Could I ask if you're romantically linked to anyone?'

'You mean girlfriends?' he asked in a patronising tone. Jon nodded.

'No.'

'Boyfriends then?' Jon watched Hobson with amusement. He'd thought that that would wipe the smile off his face.

'I'm not a… I'm not interested in other men.'

'As I mentioned before, Ken Sutton seemed to believe his wife was having an affair.' From the corner of his eye, he saw Clegg raise a hand and adjust his collar. 'Were you seeing her in that context?' he continued.

Hobson crossed his arms. 'I told you I wasn't.'

Jon tapped a forefinger against his chin. 'Thing is, Mr Hobson, some of her friends say she spoke very highly of you. Almost like she was a little bit in awe. You obviously shared an interest in panthers.'

'So therefore we were frolicking together amongst the heather?'

'She was seen once or twice crossing fields to a car park at the edge of Holme. No one was quite sure what she was up to.' Clegg fidgeted again and Jon almost asked him if he had anything to say. 'In my experience of murder cases, sex usually plays some sort of role. Especially when the victim is a woman.'

'I've had enough of this,' Hobson said, getting to his feet. Clegg extended a hand. 'Jeremy, sit down. DI Spicer? I need a word outside.'

Jon looked up, clocking the pained expression on the Inspector's face. 'OK. DS Saville, can you turn the tapes off while I consult with my colleague outside.'

Jon moved down the corridor before saying, 'You better have a damn good reason for butting in like that.'

The colour had risen in Clegg's cheeks and he struggled with his words. 'Hobson wasn't seeing Rose Sutton. I was.'

'Say that again.'

Clegg looked down, suddenly interested in the nails of his beefy hand. 'Rose and I had been seeing each other for the last few years.' He looked up. 'It was the extension of a friendship that went back ages. Far longer than Ken Sutton had known her.'

Jon stepped forward and thrust a finger into Clegg's face.

'I asked you that time at the top of Sutton's drive to come clean.'

Clegg's eyes flashed and he raised a hand to brush Jon's finger away.

Go on, you fat fuck, Jon thought, I'll drop you, whatever your size. Their eyes connected and Clegg changed his mind. He stepped back and his hand lowered. 'How could I ever have known it would escalate into this?'

'Maybe it wouldn't have if you'd been straight with me,' Jon muttered, turning away. Shit! He tried to integrate this new piece of information into the scheme of things. His immediate thought was that it placed Clegg firmly on the list of suspects. And Sutton. The farmer's suspicion about his wife were correct. Had he come across actual proof and killed her as a result? Glaring at Clegg, he said in a little more than a growl, 'What sort of a man is Sutton?'

'You mean, could he have killed Rose?'

'Full marks for intuition.'

'He didn't know about us.'

Jon slammed a palm against the wall. 'That wasn't my fucking question! Besides, how do you know he didn't find out?'

'Because he would have come for me. There's something in him. Something cold.'

Jon felt his fingers curling up. I would so love to throttle you.

'You didn't tell me this because you were afraid of what Sutton might do? Don't you think your opinion of Sutton would have been of some use earlier in this investigation? Why is he so cold? Give me an example. Did he treat Rose badly?'

'Not physically, but emotionally. There was no affection, no love. It was just a partnership. They ran the farm together, that was it.'

'Why does that make him capable of violence?'

'It doesn't. That dog he shot. The one that was worrying his sheep. He didn't shoot it once. He winged it with one barrel, then emptied the other into it at point blank range. After that, he tied it to the rear bumper of his Land Rover and dragged its carcass across the field to the couple. I could tell he'd relished it. There was something in his eyes as he described doing it, a sadistic look. I thought, you could do that to any living thing, animal or human.'

Jon also remembered the cruel delight in Sutton's voice as he'd recounted the event. 'And you approved his application for a high-powered hunting rifle. I can't believe you kept all this back. You're off the investigation, you understand? And I want a statement from you about all of this, along with your where- abouts on the night of each murder.'

'On the night of each murder?'

'Think about it, Clegg, you're right in the shit over this one. Now, where's your senior officer? You're going to tell all this to him.'

On the way back down from the Superintendent's office, Jon ran over Clegg's admission. It still didn't seal things up. Sutton had moved up on the list of suspects, true. But he'd a seemingly sound alibi for the night Rose died. In his gut, Jon didn't think Clegg could have done it either. The man had immense physical power, no doubt about that, but there was no motive Jon could think of for killing Peterson and Kerrigan too.

Hobson? Still in the picture, no doubt about it. But what was his connection to Peterson and Kerrigan? And how could he have known Danny Gordon? That would be a good place to start. He opened the door to the interview room and got an impatient glance off Rick.

'Sorry for the delay. Some new information just came to light.' He flicked the tape back on. 'Interview resuming at ten forty-six, now present in the room, DI Spicer, DS Saville and Jeremy Hobson.' He removed the photo of the Silverdale five-a- side team from his folder and slid it across to Hobson. 'The youth in the middle of the football team. Have you ever seen him before?'

Hobson regarded the photo for all of a second before looking up. Here we go, thought Jon. Never seen him. To his surprise, Hobson nodded. 'He worked briefly at the zoo.'