Give a Dog a Name (Three Oaks Book 4)

by Gerald Hammond

  PC Peel had his pocket book in his hand but I saw him glance at the tape-recorder and give up any attempt at verbatim notes. He dropped the book back into his pocket and groped for handcuffs. ‘I must warn you,’ he said hastily, ‘that—’

  Ellingworth was in no mood to heed the customary warning. What began as a confession had become a plea for sympathy. His voice rose above the constable’s. ‘We had to bury them before it was time for the kids to come home. I told them their mother had gone away . . .’

  Even in my relief, I found the scene distressing. The details were no concern of mine. I turned away and Beth walked with me. ‘We’d better stick around,’ she said. ‘There’ll be arrangements to make about the children. Perhaps Mr Buccleugh’s daughter will look after them for the moment. I think Mrs Ellingworth had a sister in Edinburgh.’

  ‘That should give Charles Buccleugh a fresh interest in life,’ I said weakly.

  ‘As soon as we’re free to go, I want the car. The reporters will give you a lift home. They’ll need your story.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ I asked.

  ‘I want to pay a call on Aubrey Stoneham,’ she said. There was a smile of anticipation on her tired face. ‘I think I’ve earned the right to tell him what I think of him and what publicity’s coming his way. And there’s one other thing we could get out of this,’ she said.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I don’t suppose that Mr Randall knew why they wanted the fake photographs. They’ll have spun him a tale. If we can get to him while he’s feeling guilty and trying to prove that he didn’t know anything about any murders—’

  ‘He’ll exonerate me,’ I said.

  Beth waved that away as irrelevant. ‘We may be able to get Walnut’s pedigree off him,’ she said. ‘We could well argue that he’s already made us a present of her.’

  ‘More negotiation from strength?’ I suggested.

  She smiled and shook her dark curls. ‘Just plain old-fashioned blackmail. If the pedigree looks good . . . we’ll need at least one more brood bitch if Stardust won’t stand—’

  She broke off. We had arrived back at the car and, out of long habit, stooped to look in and see that the dogs were all right.

  They were more than all right. Horace had forgotten about being an invalid. He was on his feet. He was also on Stardust. He was firmly mounted and working away like any other sex maniac. Stardust was standing for him. As is normal (with bitches as with ladies, when caught in the act) she looked ashamed and yet distinctly pleased with herself.

  Beth sighed. ‘I can never get over the feeling that it’s really quite romantic,’ she said. ‘It’s silly, but there it is. Other people get soppy over weddings so I don’t see why I shouldn’t feel sentimental when dogs fall in love. Tell me, what made you choose the name Walnut?’

  ‘It just came to me,’ I said.

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