beneath the rock. Chubber shook his head. Trouble. Not his business. Won’t get involved. Antler Man said he’d be watching Chubber and he’d know if Chubber told tales.
Best keep quiet then, Chubber.
Exactly.
Riley had hunkered down at the computer but he’d hardly got into his work before there was a scraping of chairs and a few coughs. All around the crime suite officers were sitting up straight and clearing their desks of detritus.
‘Hey?’ Riley tapped Davies on the shoulder. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Bloody hell,’ Davies said, sweeping his sandwich wrapping into a nearby bin. ‘It’s our tour party. Didn’t you read the memo this morning? Half a dozen councillors, the Crime Commissioner and a bloody MP who sits on the Home Office committee. Lively, Darius, or you’ll be on dog poo collection duty for the rest of your days.’
Riley straightened and smoothed his shirt as DSupt Hardin showed several men into the room. He recognised two of them as the Commissioner and the local MP. Davies pulled a tie from a drawer and hurriedly put it on.
A little while later Riley wondered why they had bothered to make any effort at all. The visiting party had kept to the other side of the room where the real action was taking place. Sheep rustling didn’t interest them.
The excitement over, Riley resumed his search. After another hour he wasn’t any wiser. He went over to Davies and fanned a sheet of printouts in front of the DI.
‘Stuff from the PNC and some bits and pieces from the internet,’ Riley said. ‘Neither of much use.’
‘No?’ Davies eyed the sheets with suspicion.
‘No.’ Riley waited for a moment. Davies didn’t look interested. ‘The PNC flagged up various incidents countrywide, which at first sight appeared to be connected to devil worship. In reality, nearly all turn out to be animals killed by natural causes or kids pranking around.’
‘Nearly all?’
‘There was a case over in Norfolk connected with child abuse. A load of chickens seem to have been slaughtered ritually in a house where three children had to be taken into care. A man and a woman were convicted. Not ponies, and the rituals seemed to be a sham designed to indoctrinate other adults. Nothing like our situation.’
‘So we’re done?’ Davies appeared disappointed.
‘Well, I’ve found someone at the university – a Professor Falk – he’s an expert in cults and that sort of thing. I’m going to set up a meeting with him to see if he can suggest any new avenues of investigation.’
‘We’re back to orgies then?’ Davies perked up again.
‘Yes.’
‘Well? What are you waiting for, Sergeant?’ Davies pointed across to a phone. ‘Get onto this Falk pronto. As in now, OK?’
Riley nodded and moved back to his desk. Ten minutes later, with the appointment made, he turned back to Davies. Before he had a chance to call across his phone trilled out. DC Denton.
‘There’s a second pony,’ Denton said. ‘A DPA ranger just called it in.’
‘DPA?’ Riley said.
‘Dartmoor Park Authority. He said it’s pretty bad.’ There was a pause. ‘Look, I can’t make it up there until later. I’m working on something to do with the first killing. I said you’d go, OK?’
Riley glanced over to the next desk where Davies had started on his post-breakfast snack; a cup of coffee and a custard doughnut. ‘Sure, mate. Be my pleasure.’
The landlord lived three streets away in a similar period property to his tenants’. It took Savage five minutes to walk there, and when she arrived DC Jane Calter was waiting for her.
‘Ma’am?’ Calter said. ‘The desk sergeant said you wanted me over here, right?’
‘Yes.’ Savage nodded up towards the house. ‘I think this guy might be just your type.’
The big brass knocker reverberated through the street and a minute or so later the door swung open to reveal a man in his thirties with close-cropped hair. Kevin Foster wore a diamond stud in his left ear and a Bluetooth microphone hung from his right. He was speaking to a caller as he opened the door.
‘Sorted, mate.’ Foster made a quizzical expression with his eyebrows and looked at Savage and Calter in turn. ‘No. Three-fifty at least. I won’t go lower and if they piss me around any more you can tell them it’s off the fucking market, understand?’
Savage produced her warrant card and held the identification out for Foster to read.
‘Right then. Be seeing you.’ Foster reached up and unhooked the headset from his ear. ‘’bout the girl, isn’t it? Worried myself, to be honest. Good-looking lass like that goes missing you can only think one thing, can’t you? So when one of your lads came round earlier and told me the bad news I was only too pleased to help. Do anything to find her killer, I would.’
‘May we, Mr Foster?’ Savage gestured inside and Foster nodded and indicated they should come in. He showed them through to the front room, which was some kind of office. To one side of the room several computers, each with multiple screens, sat atop an array of glass tables. On the other side a large leather sofa was angled towards a wall-mounted screen on which a twenty-four-hour news channel played in silence. Foster pulled out a swivel chair and sat down while Savage and Calter plonked themselves down on the sofa.
‘Anasztáz Róka was a tenant of yours, correct?’
‘Yes,’ Foster said. ‘Although she was behind with the rent. She hadn’t paid for three months.’
‘I see. But you let her stay anyway for free.’
‘Well, I’m not an ogre. Bloody nightmare now though, isn’t it?’
Ana, he explained, had come to him pleading poverty. Money she’d been expecting from Hungary hadn’t come through and she’d begged for a grace period. One month became two and then three. Foster tutted to himself.
‘I was too soft, but the lass was foreign and I felt sorry for her.’
‘And was that all you felt?’
‘Hey? I don’t get your drift?’
‘What about her, Mr Foster?’ Calter said. ‘Did she get your drift?’
‘I—’
‘“Good-looking lass like her goes missing you can only think one thing.” Wasn’t that what you just said to us, Mr Foster? Sounded a little bit like a confession to me.’
‘Don’t be bloody ridiculous. As soon as Ana went missing I was concerned about her.’
Savage pointed at the office set-up. ‘What is it you do, Mr Foster?’
‘This and that. A bit of trading, a few properties, some other stuff.’
