‘You’re right. It has to stop. I can’t carry on like this, either; it’s been a living hell. You’ve no idea.’ He glanced up at the clock, which showed half past eight.
‘They can wait a few minutes, I’m sure,’ Daniel said, interpreting the look.
Symmonds nodded. ‘It started last year. My wife, Enid, had been diagnosed with cancer. The doctors said it was inoperable and it was just a matter of time. We were devastated – we’d always been close; childhood sweethearts, married nearly forty years, and now they were saying we might only have six months. Then we heard about a treatment – a new drug, only just coming on to the market from America – but the doctors wouldn’t prescribe it. It was too expensive, they said. If we wanted it, we would have to go private, but we couldn’t afford to do that. Don’t get me wrong, I’d have done anything to raise the money, but things have been tight and the house was already mortgaged, and, with the state of the economy, my bank wasn’t keen to remortgage. Enid accepted it, but I couldn’t. I felt so helpless – useless.
‘About that time, the Boyds approached me, wanting me to supply them with drugs, dressings and suturing materials.’ He paused and looked at Daniel. ‘My first instinct was to show them the door and report the matter to the police, but Norman had done his homework, damn him! He knew about Enid and the treatment we wanted – I suppose it was fairly common knowledge around the village. We’d even had offers of help from well-wishers, but nowhere near the amount we needed. Anyway, Boyd offered me the exact amount if I’d supply him with what he needed and turn a blind eye. What was I to do? I told myself if I didn’t supply him, someone else would, and that wouldn’t help Enid, would it?’
Daniel didn’t answer. He couldn’t condone the vet’s actions, but he could sympathize with his dilemma. Who could say what one mightn’t do if put in that position?
‘It made me sick to the stomach, but I took their money,’ Symmonds continued after a moment. ‘I told Enid it was a bequest from a distant relative. I’m not sure she believed me, but by then she was too ill to care very much. She died before the treatment could start.’ His voice cracked a little, and he stopped to take a deep, steadying breath. ‘I tried to give the money back and put a stop to the whole thing, but it was too late. I had already given them one batch of stock, and Norman Boyd said if I didn’t honour the agreement, they would tell my son. And if I told the police, they would claim that I had been supplying them for years.’
‘But surely your records would show that wasn’t the case,’ Daniel protested.
Symmonds smiled sadly. ‘It’s not quite that simple. It might sound clichéd, but I’m an old-fashioned vet, in it for the animals, not the money. One or two of my clients struggle to pay from time to time, and I have been known to waive my fees occasionally, just to see that an animal gets the treatment it needs. Usually the client finds some other way to settle the debt – payment in kind, you know the sort of thing. It’s part of village life and it works very well on the whole. I never thought it would be a problem, until now.’
‘I heard you had a row with your son. Was that about the Boyds?’
Symmonds nodded. ‘Yes. He found out. Saw Taylor leaving one time with a bagful of stock and checked the records. He was furious. I couldn’t make him understand. He just wouldn’t listen. That’s when he walked out. It was a huge blow, but I couldn’t blame him. It’s what I would have done in his place, and in a way I was relieved. If anyone did find out, at least he wouldn’t be involved.’
‘What did you do with the money?’
‘I gave it to charity. To the RSPCA – anonymously. I didn’t know what else to do. I sent a note saying I hoped they might use it in their campaign against dog fighting. I even mentioned the Boyds.’
‘Did you?’
‘Yes. It made me feel a bit better, but not much. But, then, nothing’s come of it.’
‘You never know. These things take time,’ Daniel said.
Symmonds looked curiously at him.
‘So, what’s your interest in all this? I’ve given you enough information to get me struck off and yet I don’t even know who you really are.’
‘My interest is in getting these evil bastards stopped,’ Daniel stated. ‘If I can do it without dragging you into it, I will, but I can’t make any promises.’
‘I remember you were asking about the missing cats and dogs, last time you were here.’
‘That’s what initially started me thinking, but I’ve found out a lot since then.’ He paused. ‘I have to trust that you won’t mention my visit to the Boyds.’
Symmonds looked offended.
‘Of course I won’t. I want this stopped as much as you do.’
‘But you have a lot to lose if the truth comes out.’
The vet shook his head. ‘I made my decision when I told you the truth. I won’t go back on it now. I’ll just have to take my chances. Whatever the outcome, whether the truth comes out or not, it’s time for me to retire.’
Watching the man closely, Daniel was inclined to believe him.
EIGHTEEN
‘Don’t you trust me?’
Daniel stopped, his hand on the door handle of the drivers’ lounge, and listened. It was Monday evening and he’d finished work a good half-hour before but had called in at the farmhouse on his way past.
The voice he’d heard was Dek’s, and he waited with baited breath for the answer.
‘It’s nothing personal.’ The reply, as he’d expected, came from Taylor. ‘We don’t trust anyone with that kind of information; it’s the only way to be sure. All I can tell you is that it’ll be soon, and I shouldn’t even be telling you that, so keep it under your hat, OK?’
Dek’s next remark was muted, but Daniel heard Boyd’s response.
‘Ricky? Christ! I don’t know. Sometimes I think he must have been swapped at birth. The bloody cottage and now this. And to make matters worse, the dog’s dead. Got bitten through the neck, apparently. I mean, he wasn’t anywhere near pit-weight. The old man’s spitting fire! He had plans for that dog. It was supposed to breed some size into the Butchers’ strain. Any fool could see it was going to be a late starter – any fool except my fucking brother, that is. He’s a loose bloody cannon! He could have blown the whole operation.’
Once again, Dek’s reply was inaudible. Boyd’s tone became placating.
‘I know you wouldn’t. Personally, I’d sooner trust you than him, but he’s family, and family means a lot to the old man. Look, I’m gonna get going. I’m gagging to see this new machine he’s bought. It’s fuckin’ massive, by all accounts. Wanna come?’
His voice grew louder as he approached the door, and Daniel was startled into action. Moving swiftly to the outer door, he opened and then slammed it shut, so that Boyd’s first sight of him was walking towards the lounge. His quick thinking worked. Boyd looked mildly surprised to see him but not alarmed.
‘You’re late,’ he commented.
‘So are you,’ Daniel countered.
‘Been cosying up to the boss again?’
‘That’s right.’ Daniel wasn’t going to rise to the bait.
‘Good luck there, mate. She’s got another admirer now, so I hear.’ With this parting shot, Boyd was gone, with Dek on his heels, leaving Daniel to wonder how it was that McCreesh’s visit had become common knowledge.
Thursday was a half-day for the Summer Haulage drivers, the afternoon being set aside for Gavin Summers’ memorial service.
The numbers at Great Ditton parish church were good, most attending, Daniel suspected, out of respect for Jenny, whose family were well known and well liked in the area. From what he could gather, Gavin had made few real friends during his time at the farm.
One surprising member of the congregation, as far as Daniel was concerned, was Jenny’s neighbour, Liam Sellyoak, whose presence caused a stir among the younger football enthusiasts attending.
Drifting to Jenny’s side during the reception afterwards at The Fox and Duck, Daniel q
uizzed her on it.
‘I don’t know. I had no idea Gavin even knew him. I was as surprised as you.’
‘Perhaps he’s trying to win brownie points with you,’ Daniel suggested wryly.
‘Well, he’s wasting his time. But whatever the reason, it’s made Harry’s day. He’s going round with stars in his eyes.’
Daniel looked through the window to where the children were amusing themselves on the mini adventure playground in the pub’s garden area. As far as he knew, Drew had never shown any sign of worshipping sporting heroes. He seemed to have been born without a sporting gene in his make-up, for which Daniel wasn’t overly sorry.
‘I thought I saw George and Marian at the back of the church,’ he said then. They had slipped in unobtrusively just as the service was about to begin.
‘Yes. I was hoping to have a word with them, but they seem to have gone,’ Jenny said, looking round the room.
Daniel felt he could make a shrewd guess as to the reason for that but he said nothing. His gaze tracked across to where Taylor, Dek and Terry MacAllister were taking full advantage of the hospitality. Reg stood a little apart, looking morose and depressed, as he had ever since the loss of his dog. Of Summer Haulage’s former drivers, Mal Fletcher and Dean Stevens, there was predictably no sign.
Ivor Symmonds approached, patently ill at ease and just as obviously trying to avoid catching Daniel’s eye.
‘Jenny, my dear. I must be going. Patients to see, you understand. I’m so sorry for your loss. If there’s anything I can do.’
Jenny took his hands in hers. ‘Thanks for coming. It means a lot. I know how busy you are.’
The vet muttered something about old friends being more important than work, kissed her cheek and hurried from the room.
‘He looks tired,’ Jenny said with concern. ‘It’s such a shame he and Phillip fell out. It’s a busy practice for a man of his age to cope with alone.’
‘It must be hard,’ Daniel agreed.
Eight o’clock on Friday evening found Daniel and William sitting in William’s car in the shady lane outside Boyd’s Salvage Spares once more, watching the image transmitted by the spy camera to Daniel’s laptop. They had been there for half an hour, and so far there had been no movement on the screen to lift the tedium.
‘Even a stray cat wandering past would be something,’ William complained. ‘I can’t believe I let you talk me into sitting here again after last week, and especially with that hairy creature of yours breathing hot doggy breath down my neck.’ He looked over his shoulder to where Taz was sitting on the back seat and was rewarded with a wet nose thrust at him. For some reason, the shepherd seemed to have developed a fondness for him. ‘As if it wasn’t warm enough in here without him fugging it up,’ he added.
‘Jenny’s taken the kids out this evening, and I didn’t want to leave him on his own for hours at the farmhouse,’ Daniel explained. ‘Anyway, you never know when he might come in handy.’
‘What for? Blowing out candles on a birthday cake?’ William replied dryly.
Daniel ignored him, and after a few more uneventful minutes, the young editor closed his eyes and gave all the appearance of being asleep.
Forty minutes later, Daniel was fighting the urge to follow suit when a movement on the monitor brought him wide-awake in an instant. He shook William’s shoulder.
‘What? What is it? Have we got a stray cat at last?’ he asked, stretching his back muscles and sitting up.
‘Better than that. Norman Boyd. In fact, all the Boyds and Dek.’
‘Who’s Dek?’
‘One of the drivers at work. Remember, I told you – very pally with Taylor Boyd.’
‘Do you think there’s going to be a fight tonight, then?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Daniel answered abstractedly, his eyes glued to the screen. ‘Now, what’s going on here?’
The slightly distorted image provided by the camera showed the back of Norman Boyd’s head and the front view of the three other men, with Dek standing between and slightly in front of the two Boyd siblings. Although there was nothing overtly threatening about Ricky’s or Taylor’s body language, something in the positioning of the three made Daniel’s eyes narrow. Dek didn’t appear to notice anything amiss; he looked relaxed and was apparently listening closely to what Norman was saying.
Moments later, the mood had totally changed. Norman turned and pointed up towards the camera lens.
Dek looked bewildered and then deeply alarmed as he realized the significance of the device and what he was being accused of. He shook his head and protested vehemently. Behind him, the two brothers closed in, Taylor’s face grimly intent, Ricky’s wearing an unpleasant grin. Norman then held up a small device towards the camera and the picture fizzed into oblivion.
‘Oh, shit!’ Daniel muttered.
‘What did he do?’
‘Scrambled it. Jammed it.’
‘But they think this Dek character planted it,’ William observed with amusement. ‘So, that’s all right, isn’t it?’
‘It’s not good news for him.’
‘Why does that matter?’
Through the open window of the car, they heard a crash of metal and a sudden outbreak of shouting. Daniel couldn’t hear what was said, but it wasn’t hard to guess what had happened. Faced with the evidence against him, false though it was, Dek had decided to cut his losses and run for it. The trouble was that the salvage yard was a secure premises with the gate the only way in – unless you knew of the hole in the fence that Daniel had engineered. Unfortunately, Dek wouldn’t, and if the Boyds had blocked his exit, it would only be matter of time before they hunted him into a corner.
Daniel wrenched the car door open. ‘I’m going in,’ he told William.
‘What?’ He was astounded. ‘Are you mad?’
‘It’s my fault they’re after him. Call the police. Get them out here as quickly as you can.’
‘But what do I tell them?’
‘I don’t care, just get them here!’ Daniel said, shutting the door in Taz’s eager face. ‘No, Taz. Not this time, mate. It’s too dangerous. Stay there.’
‘You’re not taking the dog?’
‘There’s too much sharp metal,’ Daniel explained. ‘Call the police, then wait here. I’ll try and get Dek out this way, if I can.’
‘But I don’t understand. Why?’
‘Tell you later.’
‘Daniel!’
Ignoring him, Daniel sprinted the short distance up the lane to the hole in the fence, bent the corrugated panel back and squeezed through, scraping his back painfully. As he straightened up on the inside and looked round at the maze of heaped metal and alleyways, he wondered if he’d been overprotective in leaving Taz behind. His tracking ability might have come in very useful before this business was over. However, it was an injury sustained while searching a scrapyard that had ended the dog’s police career, and although he had eventually made a full recovery, it had been a close run thing for a while. Daniel wasn’t prepared to put him at that kind of risk again if he could help it.
Running down the clearway between two heaps of scrap, Daniel was aware that this time the CCTV cameras were likely to be fully operational. He could only hope that there was no one free to man them and his presence would remain undiscovered for as long as possible.
At the junction between alleyways, Daniel paused, straining his ears to make out what was happening from the sporadic shouts and sounds of metal shifting. Someone shouted away to his right, and then Daniel jumped as there came the boom of a shotgun, shockingly close and quickly followed by a second.
‘For fuck’s sake, Ricky, are you mad?’ That was Norman’s voice, away to Daniel’s left.
‘I saw Edwards,’ came Ricky’s reply.
‘Did you get ’im?’
‘Nearly.’
‘Nearly’s not good enough! Keep that bloody thing quiet till you’re sure, or we’ll have the fuzz down on us,’ came the furious retort. ‘Go and
cover the gate like you were told.’
Daniel hesitated. Should he head in the direction that he’d heard the shotgun, on the basis that Dek must have been nearby? But surely, if he had any sense, he’d now be heading the opposite way, as fast as he could. The salvage yard was a maze of piled-up metal junk and interlinking passageways. He could, potentially, bump into Dek around any corner, but he could also just as easily bump into one of the Boyds, which was not a prospect he relished.
It was a sobering revelation that Papa Boyd’s only worry about his son shooting someone was that the police might have heard the gun. And what kind of man would let a borderline psycho like Ricky loose with a firearm in the first place?
Moving cautiously, Daniel made his way to the end of the alleyway he was following and paused. The air was still and humid, and he could feel perspiration trickling down his back under the grey T-shirt he wore. Grey was a lucky choice, for although the sun had slipped below the horizon, covering darkness was still a fair way off, and grey blended reasonably well with the background mass of metals, painted, rusty and bare.
He had come to a crossroads. Glancing quickly to right and left, he crossed the broader alleyway and continued in his original direction, keeping his ears open for any tell-tale conversation between Dek’s pursuers.
Suddenly, closer than was comfortable, Daniel heard the jingle of a pop song on someone’s mobile and a voice answered, ‘Yes?’
He froze, listening, and after a moment or two Norman Boyd said ‘Is he now?’ then raised his voice and called out, ‘Hey, lads. Whelan’s in here, too. Melody’s just seen him on the cameras.’
Daniel cursed silently. How much had she told her father? Did Norman know where he was? He glanced around but could see no covering CCTV. As he waited, he could hear Boyd’s heavy footfalls continuing up the adjacent clearway and decided to backtrack.
Reaching the junction once more, Daniel paused, half-hidden behind a pile of rusting oil drums, to scan the available options. As he did so, he caught sight of Taylor Boyd approaching down the alleyway to his right. His heart rate stepped up a notch. There was a one in three chance that Taylor would choose to turn left at the crossroads, and those were odds he didn’t especially like, but it was too late to move.
No Holds Barred Page 22
