Malcolm Peabody waited glumly about thirty yards from the dog-pit, halfway up one of the encircling slopes, though even there he wasn’t out of range of the choke-inducing stench. He still wore the same civvies he’d been wearing earlier, though when Lucy had popped back on her motorbike, bringing the forensics tent, she’d also, at his request, brought him a black police-issue waterproof jacket. In the end the rain hadn’t come, but Peabody was still wearing it, because, as the night drew on, the breeze stiffened.
They’d managed to erect the tent over the pit, but clumsily. It would normally be a square, boxy structure, but here it was lopsided, leaning precariously, partly because of the unstable ground surrounding the hole. To compensate, they’d deployed an extra barrier of incident-scene tape around the outside. Not that anyone was likely to come snooping out here.
Lucy had departed again on her bike a while back, in an effort to get face-time with the brass in order to beg for a full forensics team. But Peabody wasn’t quite alone. A light still bobbed inside the forensics tent, where an RSPCA vet was looking over the charred remains. She’d been in there a good hour, and even though she was clad neck-to-toe in biohazard overalls and wearing breathing apparatus with a small oxygen cylinder slung at her hip, the PC was beginning to wonder how she could stand it.
Of course, it was no more fun outside. Down here in the depression, it was difficult to see the rest of the landfill, but on the few occasions during the evening when he’d trekked up to the rim to check things out, he’d seen progressively less and less of it as dusk became twilight and twilight became night. Now, there was nothing out there but darkness, though occasional lurid glows issued from the one or two fires still burning, with skeins of greasy smoke drifting ghostlike across the shapeless terrain.
‘Fucking Mordor,’ he muttered.
Thanks to the silence that otherwise embraced this lifeless land, Peabody heard the approach of Lucy’s returning motorbike some time before she arrived. It was a red Ducati M900, an excellent road-bike but not ideal for scrambling, hence she was taking her time as she followed the rugged track. The grinding rev of the engine sounded for several minutes before her headlight speared into view and she braked on the ridge, applying the kick-stand and climbing off. Peabody scrambled uphill as she removed her helmet. She’d pulled a leather jacket over her sweatshirt and replaced her trainers with lace-up boots. Now she pulled her gloves off and jammed them into her helmet, before producing a Maglite and switching it on.
‘Anything?’ she asked.
‘Vet’s not finished yet.’
She nodded, as they plodded down the slope together.
‘Did you find a petrol can or anything?’ she asked, referring to the last order she’d given him before setting off earlier.
‘Nothing in the vicinity that might have been used to transport or deliver any kind of accelerant.’
She made no reply.
‘So … is the show on the road?’ he asked.
‘Not yet. I managed to speak to DSU Nehwal. Like Stan, she wasn’t impressed. Says she’ll see what the vet says before she can even think about sparing us a couple of examiners.’
‘She shouldn’t be long now.’ Peabody nodded at the tent. ‘Been in there ages.’
‘Yeah, but she’s not going to write her report up immediately as she comes out, is she?’
‘Probably not,’ Peabody sighed. ‘She’ll want her shower and her tea, and then to snuggle up in bed and get a full night’s sleep.’
‘Which reminds me – before I go, there’s a torch for you in the storage locker under my seat. I also went to the canteen. There’s a packet of sandwiches and a flask of coffee too.’
‘Very kind,’ he grunted. ‘But I prefer tea.’
‘Tough. We can’t have you falling asleep.’
‘I’m not bloody likely to out here.’
‘I dunno …’ They’d now waded through trash until reaching the crime-scene tape, where they halted. Lucy nodded at one of the old chairs the vagrants had been using. By the look of it, Peabody had set it up for himself a little closer to the pit, until the reek had overpowered him. ‘Looks like you were already getting comfy.’
He didn’t even dignify that with a response. ‘And what are you going to be doing all night while I’m suffocating in the stink of this place?’
‘You’re not going to be here all night,’ she said. ‘I’ve spoken to the duty officer. You’ve got uniform relief at three.’
‘Oh.’ He was genuinely and pleasantly surprised. ‘Okay, cheers.’
‘And to answer your question, I’ll probably be on the move till three as well. To start with, I’ve got to interview Sister Cassie, who told me she’d spend tonight in “Old Fred’s crib”. I think I know where that is.’
‘You really think there’s a connection?’ he said. ‘I mean, just because of a van?’
‘One part of me hopes there is, Malcolm. Because that would mean we’re closer to getting an answer. The other part of me hopes there isn’t.’
‘Why?’
Before she could reply, the vet emerged from the forensics tent. As Lucy’s light was already on, she turned her own torch off and removed her mask. She was a youngish woman with collar-length brown hair, rather pretty, though at present her face was set in a scowl.
‘That’s just about the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen!’ Her accent was cut-glass, her tone almost accusing, as though the officers themselves were to blame. ‘Who on earth is responsible for a horror show like that?’
‘Trust me,’ Lucy said, ‘we’re as eager to find out as you are.’
‘Is this some kind of ritual, or something?’
‘Do you see anything to indicate that?’ Lucy asked.
‘I don’t know … all these animals have been brutally killed, and in various ways.’
‘So they weren’t killed by other dogs?’ Peabody asked.
The vet glanced disdainfully at him. ‘I’ve never heard of canines committing strangulation before, or cutting throats …’
‘What my colleague means is: could these animals have been badly injured in dog-fighting?’ Lucy cut in. ‘And maybe put to death afterwards?’
‘None of those poor creatures were fighting-dogs. I couldn’t establish all the breeds, but there are thirteen bodies down there in total, all ages, and most of them, if not all, were once probably household pets. They could have been used as bait, I suppose, but I didn’t see any obvious indication. No, I’m sorry to say that the perpetrators of these crimes are very human.’
‘You said some of them were despatched by strangulation?’ Lucy said.
‘Four of them, yes. I’d hazard a guess that the ligature in each case was the same, or at least the same type of implement. A thin cord … something like a wire.’ She grimaced. ‘One of them, a French bulldog, had had its spine severed with a heavy, sharp-bladed instrument. An axe or cleaver, or a big knife. I’ll be honest, I can’t for the life of me work out what was going on here.’
‘I assume they were all burned afterwards?’ Lucy said.
‘Yes.’ The vet glanced back at the tent. ‘This is a deposition site. I imagine they were cluttering up someone’s garage or outside shed for a while, until the decision was made to get rid of them altogether. The smell probably became a problem. By the looks of it, whoever’s responsible used insufficient petrol. Most likely it was rain that put the fire out again. In addition, of course, flames don’t eat their way downward. Instead of throwing these remains into a hole, whoever did it should have built them into a bonfire.’
‘How recently do you think this happened?’ Lucy asked.
‘I’m not an expert, but none of these animals died more recently than a couple of weeks ago, I’d say. You’ll want something on paper, I’m assuming?’
‘And as soon as possible, if that’s okay.’
‘Tomorrow morning?’
‘That’d be great. Just email it through, if you don’t mind.’ Lucy handed over her card.
The vet pocketed it before squatting down and packing the rest of her equipment into a hold-all. Having done her job, she now seemed eager to be off. She zipped the bag closed and trudged away, nodding once, curtly, as she passed them.
‘You’ll be okay out here?’ Lucy asked, at they stared again at the darkened tent.
‘Gonna have to be,’ Peabody replied.
‘Got juice in your radio?’
‘Should have enough to get me through till three, yeah.’
‘Any real problems, call me? Doesn’t matter what time it is.’
Peabody still looked disgruntled. ‘I’ll be fine. Like you say … I can use the overtime.’
‘One thing, officers,’ a voice behind them called. They turned. The vet was halfway up the slope but had clearly had an afterthought. She walked back down a few yards. ‘I’m not sure when it was that CID began investigating animal deaths. But I’m glad the police are taking this seriously.’
Lucy shrugged. ‘Animal cruelty’s an issue we always take seriously.’
The vet smiled politely. ‘I’m sure, yes … but the main thing is, I’m an animal-lover, as you’d probably expect. But even I’m in a position where I must express hope that this thing, whatever it is, ends with the animals.’
‘I’m not following,’ Lucy said.
‘DC Clayburn … whoever’s responsible for this, I think it’s a safe bet that they’re not even close to being in their right mind.’