Justine and the Catling Catastrophe

by Ruth Hay

  I longed to say, I can help you, but that would divert from the present situation into questions I preferred not to answer. Instead, I went for an alternative idea.

  “Dr. Hudson, is it possible for you to find an assistant who could take over caring for my Catling for two days? I would pay for the time. I have an idea that might help to uncover evidence for you.”

  “Oh, I can’t send you into possible danger, Miss Dixon. This is a money-making scheme and these people can be ruthless.”

  I took a deep breath and pumped confidence into my voice. He had no idea of the dangerous circumstances I had survived. Ruthless criminals were no deterrent for me.

  “Look, I can’t go into details, doctor, but you can trust me to act sensibly. I will leave my request with you. Please call me if an assistant can be found, and please do this quickly before more helpless creatures suffer the same fate that was meant for my Catling.”

  I put my phone down. I had done everything I could. I tried to think of alternative ways to be free from responsibilities for two days but I could not impose further on the goodwill of Pauline and her husband. No ordinary person could take over the schedule of feeding and caring for Catling. It might even require two trained vet assistants for safety.

  After another restless day of waiting, I got good news by phone.

  “I have thought long and hard about your request, Miss Dixon. I contacted the Veterinary College in Plymouth and they are willing to send me two students to care for your kitten.

  I am still uncomfortable about your idea to go to Exeter but there is no other choice I can see. If we wait too long, it could be disastrous.

  I expect to send the students to your house in Perranporth within the week. One of my own assistants will stay with them for a couple of hours or more, to make sure they are up to the task. Good luck to you and thank you.”

  Within the week!

  I began at once to make plans. I called the hotel in Exeter and made a booking. I packed a bag and checked that the students would have sufficient supplies for their stay.

  I spoke to Catling and explained my mission. I told her I would return as soon as possible and she was not to worry about my absence.

  I went next door, and told Pauline about an urgent matter that needed my attention in Exeter. I explained about the students and said she could check on them any time she wanted.

  Then, I waited and slept as much as I could, and fed Catling, and waited some more.

  The two young women and the vet’s assistant arrived mid-morning of the fourth day. I stayed until I heard the assistant’s accurate summary of the situation, and the type of attention Catling would need.

  When the two girls cooed over Catling and marvelled at her size, I knew they were a good choice for her care.

  I left then, and drove fast in my little red car all the way cross-country to Exeter without stopping.

  As soon as I checked into my hotel room, I made my way to the shopping gallery and Crawley’s Cuties. My plan was to find out who Crawley was.

  I wore a slouch hat pulled down over my hair and changed my voice to a higher register. I wandered into the shop and expressed interest in the puppies bouncing around in the front window.

  “Oh, how lovely they are!” I enthused. “But I really wanted an all-black pup for my niece to replace her dog that just died recently.”

  The man behind the counter who was older, and not too clean, in my estimation, practically rubbed his hands in glee at the thought of a sale. I did not like either his looks or his manner. Neither was I impressed by a grungy smell that pervaded the shop, but I disguised my feelings.

  “Well now,” said the man, “That’s not a problem. Crawley’s Cuties has more pups in the back area of the shop. Just you wait one minute and I’ll see what I can find for you.”

  He was off like a shot and I had a chance to look more closely at the puppies in the caged window. Most were active but one, curled in a corner looked thin and sick, while another, scratching away with his rear foot, definitely had the start of a skin problem. Seeing this confirmed my belief that Crawley’s Cuties was the right place from which my Catling and her birth mates had come. I nosed around behind the counter with one eye on the back door and found a pile of cloth bags with the initials CC intertwined on them. I shivered at the sight and did not touch them.

  “Right you are Miss! I found just what you wanted. These two beauties will please your niece for certain.”

  In his arms were two black Labrador puppies. They were a little older than the pups in the window cage. They were both adorable, although I thought they may have been awakened from sleep as they did not show much enthusiasm about being brought into the shop.

  I left him holding onto the pups.

  “Are all your animals vet certified? Do they have papers and are they chipped?”

  Apparently, this kind of question was not what he expected. I got the feeling most of his customers were so diverted by the sight of the young animals, they did not ask for much beyond the price.

  My suspicion was confirmed by his next words.

  “Oh, we have access to a vet, for sure. Our prices are very competitive and you will be able to afford identity chips if that is what you want.”

  “I see. Are you Mr. Crawley, by any chance?”

  Again, he seemed uncomfortable and his hold on the puppies tightened, to their obvious discomfort. Making him stand there, was a part of my plan. If he was put off his game, I had a better chance of getting the information I needed.

  “Ah, well, no. My Aunt Joan is the Crawley owner. I just work here.”

  “Could I speak to your aunt about the pups?”

  This was most definitely not what he wanted. He pushed the lab pups into the cage in the window where they were quickly jumped upon by the other puppies. I noticed that the lab pups did not respond much, and it made me think they were used to being confined for far too long and were possibly unable to move well, even to defend themselves.

  My anger was rising again. Had I been confronted on this day with kittens, instead of puppies, I doubt I could have restrained myself. I badly wanted to jump over the counter and attack this man. It was a real effort to smile and speak calmly.

  “If you don’t mind me saying so, Miss, you ask a lot of questions for a person who is given exactly what she asked for. I can offer you an excellent price if you take the two pups. You won’t find a better deal anywhere.”

  “I am sure you are right about that. Mr. Crawley. I need to think about two pups. I will be back tomorrow to let you know my decision.”

  His face fell. Clearly, he had an excess of ‘product’ on his hands and he was anxious to sell.

  I made a quick exit and walked at speed to the end of the shopping gallery. I was fuming, but I consoled myself with the fact that I had managed to gain some information.

  I expected the gallery shops had tradesmen’s entrances in a rear alleyway so I circled around until I found the door marked with the CC logo. I stood as close as I could to the door and listened.

  Not much noise inside.

  I suspected there were more cages stored in there containing more of the unfortunate animals waiting for a buyer. I tapped on the door and a wild noise of barking and miaowing arose at once. The door was locked tight and although I badly wanted a photograph as evidence, I had to move away fast in case the man saw me.

  This incident disturbed me more than I could say, but it had confirmed everything I suspected.

  I took a back exit away from the gallery and went to my hotel.

  Now I had to find a location for a Joan Crawley.

  And …………….. I did not have much time.

  Twelve

  I poured over the telephone book but in the end, I had to call the phone company.

  They had an old listing for a Joan Crawley, but could not assure me it was still in service.

  “How do I find the address? She’s a distant relative who I am trying to find. She has been out
of touch for some time and we are worried about her health.”

  The answer was to try the police department. I might need to do this at some point but I preferred to gather more information first.

  I made a final attempt to persuade the operator to help me. I used my power to infuse my voice with genuine concern. “I am afraid Aunt Joan will be found dead. Please, please help me!”

  “My dear lady, it’s not worth my job to give out that information but all I can say is you need to look outside of Exeter toward the Dartmoor area.”

  This was my nightmare come true. I hated Dartmoor and all such barren and lonely places where the wind scoured the soil, and rocks from ancient times reared their heads above the land like prehistoric monsters. Many evil things had been found, or been done, in these remote places, over the ages, and now I must go there, alone, and without a clear idea of what I was seeking.

  I had very little time to find Joan Crawley.

  I had Catling waiting at home for me.

  I had the burden of suffering animals on my mind.

  In spite of the pressure of these demands, I decided I must first be properly rested before taking on this search in daylight hours.

  After a huge meal in the hotel restaurant, and a sound sleep in the hotel’s comfy bed, I set out in the first of the morning light with a snack and a coffee to sustain me.

  I drove fast until the high ridges of Dartmoor came into sight. There was no way to cover the entire area in one day, so I combined GPS and Google to get a list of the farms and other buildings spread out in the vicinity. I could repeat the process, if necessary, as I moved further into Dartmoor but I hoped that would not be required. Already there were dark clouds forming in the sky and I was afraid I might be stranded by bad weather, somewhere far from help.

  My only available shortcut in this search for Joan Crawley, was to engage my deeper senses with the map and try to discern which buildings were legitimate farm holdings and which might be unoccupied or suspicious in any way.

  This was difficult work at the best of times. In my present anxious state, it might be impossible.

  I pulled off the road in a forested dell and drove deeper in until I was sure no one would interrupt me.

  I calmed my mind with techniques I had learned, and sat back with eyes closed, holding in my hand my phone with the list of Dartmoor buildings.

  I began with the ones that had farm in the name, in hopes these were legitimate operations.

  The first three gave no indication of trouble. These were sheep farms.

  Next, I tackled private homes in some of the most remote locations. In one home, I sensed horses in stables, one was vacant, and another was broken down and deserted.

  This was not going well for me.

  I now had to widen the search.

  I took a drink of the coffee and called up the next batch of names: two farms and a single private home much further into the moors. Why anyone would choose to live in this god-forsaken place was impossible for me to understand. The whole world knew that this was where infamous Myra Hindley had buried the bodies of her child victims.

  As soon as this memory crossed my mind, the strength of my power was gone.

  Worst possible timing!

  I opened up the car door and went outside to walk in the woods and try to restore my focus.

  Already the rain had started and the clouds were so low on the horizon that it might as well have been twilight instead of mid-morning.

  I forcibly emptied my mind of all distracting thoughts and returned to the car and my mission; Find Joan Crawley.

  Focussing on the person, rather than on the buildings, seemed to help. The dim light around my car, and the sound of raindrops on the windshield also helped to eliminate distractions.

  I fell into a deeper trance.

  I was floating over the landscape as a disembodied spirit. I met other sprits in ghost form but moved away from them. Such ghosts seek to steal energy from the living.

  I thought of the buildings on my list and found myself close to one of them. I could now see through walls. I saw a cozy family scene with farmhands and a woman, eating their midday meal together. The feel of the atmosphere here was all positive, so I moved away rapidly. I knew I could not safely maintain this spirit state for too long.

  Joan Crawley became my mantra. Joan Crawley …………..

  I opened my spirit eyes again and saw before me an old stone house and an adjacent barn that had seen better days. The house was empty but there was smoke from a fireplace in the air.

  I almost passed over the barn until I received a huge surge of energy that almost tore me out of my floating state.

  The cries of cats and dogs and possibly other small animals, was bombarding my ears.

  This must be the place I was seeking!

  Joan Crawley must be here!

  Thirteen

  I was thrown back into my body with such force that I could not grab a deep breath for a few seconds. Once that was over, I found I had the shakes for a minute more, as I adjusted to the new reality.

  Yes, I believed I had found my quarry.

  Yes, I must go there as soon as possible to find evidence the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals would accept.

  Yes, I had a vehicle to take me there and it was only just after the noon hour.

  But, I was required to now enter a zone of fear in order to do so.

  No, I had no choice in the matter. One thought of Catling and I drew on all my remaining strength.

  I ate the snack and sucked on the coffee as I drove.

  The rain was now falling heavily, and there was even the sound of thunder in the sky.

  All of this combined to make it the most daunting search I had ever been on, alone, without comrades.

  My destination was several miles into Dartmoor on a high ridge that overlooked most of the countryside. I set the GPS for the site and gave my full attention to the road. Sliding off into a stone wall, or encountering another car on a narrow section of roadway was not the distraction I needed.

  The bad weather helped. I saw no other cars as I climbed higher. I saw no other buildings either.

  It felt like I was climbing into the sky. My little red car forged onward and the sky seemed to descend onto my head accompanied by rain and wind and thunder.

  I was not enjoying this endless search when in an actual flash of lightning I caught a glimpse of my destination. The house was almost invisible against the rocky soil. It was small, and very old, and sunk down into the earth. If not for the tall barn drawing attention, a passerby would miss the house entirely.

  A thread of smoke from a chimney alerted me to an occupant. Surely, on a wild day like this, Joan Crawley would be sitting by the fireside.

  I drove slowly off to the side of the house, knowing she would not hear the sound of the car’s engine in this noisy weather. I parked near the barn doors and went forward to lift the wooden bar that gave me entrance. I was anxious to close the door before it blew wide with the wind and alerted the woman inside the house, so I did not notice anything about the interior of the barn until I turned around.

  The light was dim at best. Spaces around the old hayloft exit high up near the roof, let in a little light and air.

  I was to be very glad I did not see everything at once as it would undoubtedly have been overwhelming.

  There were five seconds during which I heard nothing. Then the wave of sound hit me like a brick. Barking, high pitched squealing, low growls and lower moans.

  I gasped at this flood of animal sounds and was immediately sickened to my core by the accompanying smells.

  For a few seconds I reeled and could not think. The impact of all this coming at me at once, was both frightening and disorienting.

  Cages were stacked up to the second level. I could see more above that in the loft, reached only by a wooden ladder. Each cage held four to six animals. Along the opposite wall were smaller cages holding a female with pups or
kittens and a few large dogs and cats that were there for breeding purposes.

  Worst of all was my awareness that, even in the dim light, I could tell that many of these creatures were not in good shape. Water bowls were empty, food bowls were licked clean down to the metal, straw bedding was filthy with refuse. Cats stood on their hind legs and tried to climb out to get to me.

  I felt their distress through every pore of my body.

  I had to turn away to gather up my strength.

  This was unbearable. What I saw was neglect of the worst kind. In a back corner of the barn, I thought I could see a pile of small bodies, but I could stand no more so I chose to ignore that sight for now.

  Instead, I allowed my righteous anger to suffuse me and give me energy. Then I held up my hands and in an act of pure desperation, never before tried by me, I lifted up my voice and sang an ancient lullaby in an even more ancient language. The shocking sound in such a place was beyond weird but it had the desired effect. The cats reacted first. They curled up together and fell asleep.

  The dogs took longer to react but they stopped barking and stood stock still watching me with glittering eyes.

  I repeated the song once more, then backed slowly to the barn doors. The soporific effect I had created inside the barn would not last long. When I was out of sight, it would gradually dissipate.

  The cold rain lashed my face and brought me back to the present.

  Under any other circumstances, I would be unable to move for several minutes after such an immense effort, but these were not normal circumstances.

  I ran to the house door and pushed against it with all my remaining strength. The door burst open with the sound of a shattered lock.