40

‘Mataura Station.’

‘Paul Frost, please.’

‘He isn’t on duty today. Can I help you with anything?’

Ah, damn it all. I really needed to touch base with Paul. He was entitled to a break like anyone else, but it was bloody inconsiderate of him, and majorly stuffed up my plans. I wasn’t about to trust anyone else at the station.

‘No, thank you, I’ll contact him when he’s in next. Can you tell me when he’ll be on duty?’

I heard some paper shuffle. ‘He’s on duty Monday, morning shift. Can I take a message?’

Like I wanted them to know who was calling.

‘No, that’s OK, I’ll talk to him Monday.’

Shit. I really needed to know what was happening in the murder investigation and whether there had been any progress on the cattle rustling. I put the phone down, and contemplated my next move. Monday. It was too far away, but there really wasn’t anyone else at the station I felt I could convince to information share. The phone beside me started to ring and I automatically reached out, hit the talk button and raised the handset to my ear.

‘Hello.’

Nothing.

Shit, not again.

‘Hello?’

There was silence. No, not quite silence. I could just make out the sound of breath, regular and steady breath, not excited breath, not hesitant breath, just steady, measured, even breath. A click followed by the familiar beep, beep, beep broke the spell.

‘Ah, piss off, idiot,’ I muttered out loud.

‘I hope that wasn’t your boss you were talking to, otherwise you need to do some serious work on your communication skills.’ Maggie had walked into the lounge just in time to catch the end of the call.

‘You’re probably right about the people skills, but no, it was another one of my favourite hang-up callers – someone who still thinks it’s a good idea to play silly buggers.’

It didn’t surprise me. Some of the looks I’d received at the pub last night weren’t altogether charitable, and it wasn’t as if I was in a position to get the call traced and do something about it. The police weren’t about to do me any favours. The calls were majorly pissing me off though, and even more annoying was the fact I had to admit they were beginning to get to me. There was a little worm of disquiet starting to make its way into my thoughts. The shadow it cast on my mood made me regret even more the fact that in one of my darker moments I’d been the one doing the hanging up and Gaby had been the one on the receiving end.

I didn’t have time to dwell on it, and self-flaggelation would serve no purpose. I got on to the task at hand. The second phone call I needed to make was to Darryl Fletcher, the local vet whose name had featured on Gaby’s contact list. His inclusion there was an obvious choice: if you wanted to know more about a disease state, why not go straight to the horse’s mouth, so to speak. Much better than Google. He’d been helpful a few days ago when I followed up on the availability of Midazolam; I hoped he’d be as forthcoming today.

‘Hi Darryl, it’s Sam Shephard again.’

There was a slight hesitation. ‘Oh. Hi. What can I do for you?’ His voice was measured, his tone guarded. I knew what that meant. Well, I had him on the line, I may as well press on.

‘I was wondering if you’d be able to help me out with some more information regarding the Gaby Knowes case?’

Once again, the hesitation, and when he spoke his discomfort was audible.

‘I don’t know if I can do that, Sam.’

I could picture him squirming on his seat while he tried desperately to think of a polite way to get me off the phone. I’d be direct. It was a simple request really, and not one that required him to extend himself in any way.

‘I was just wanting to know some background information on bovine tuberculosis. I’m following up on some work Gaby was doing before her murder.’

‘You’re putting me in a bit of a position here. You know I’d like to help, but, well, you’re not working for the police any more and they’ve said that they don’t want you involved.’

Well, at least it clarified one point. My colleagues were doing a hatchet job on my reputation. Bloody charming. Still, if they’d spoken to him, perhaps it meant they were following up on the TB connection themselves, and that someone had bothered to read through the material they’d seized from my house. That, at least, was a good thing. The more heads trying to piece this puzzle together, the better.

The silence was getting decidedly uncomfortable. Darryl was not going to elaborate any further.

‘I won’t trouble you any more, then. Thanks for letting me know, all the same.’

‘I’m sorry I can’t help.’ He sounded earnest.

‘Yeah, I know, me too.’