Page 43 of The Chapel of Bones

She crept towards the van, hoping the person in the church porch would stop to count the money. Once she was close enough to make out the number plate, she took her notebook from the pocket of her waxed jacket and scribbled it down. The van was a Ford Transit with a dent in the left-hand rear door. She noted that too. Then her heart skipped a beat as she heard barking from inside the vehicle. Bella was in there.

She saw the figure leaving the porch holding the carrier bag, so she crouched down behind the vicarage wall. The dognapper reached the van, opened the back door and grabbed hold of a piece of string; a makeshift lead for the little dog that leapt out, wagging its tail. Bella.

Trish knew that spaniels had a good sense of smell; the drug squad employed them as sniffer dogs. She only hoped that Bella wouldn’t use her canine talents to catch her scent and come bounding over, giving the game away. But luckily, by now she was far enough away to be out of the danger zone. Besides, Bella seemed quite content trotting alongside the dognapper. Her tail was still wagging, which was reassuring and meant that it was unlikely she’d been mistreated.

Trish watched as the figure looped the string around a tall gravestone and bent down to pat the dog, whispering something as they reached into a pocket. The dog sat obediently to receive what looked like a treat and another pat on the head. Trish heard the word ‘stay’ as the figure backed away before turning and walking calmly back to the van.

Once they were aboard, the van’s lights were switched on and it began to drive away very slowly, as though its occupantswanted to see what would happen next. But Trish had already made a call. All patrols should be on the lookout for the vehicle.

She returned to her parents’ car and gave a thumbs-up sign before rushing to the churchyard. There were joyous barks as she approached. Bella was safe.

An hour and a half later, she received a call from the station. The van had been intercepted on the road to Neston and the occupants detained.

28

Wesley and Pam were about to grab an hour of relaxation before making their way upstairs to bed when Wesley’s phone rang. It was Trish, who poured out the whole story of Bella’s abduction, ending with the good news. Bella was home safe and well and the dognappers had been apprehended by a patrol car and were now enjoying the custody sergeant’s hospitality at Tradmouth police station.

She apologised for keeping Wesley and the rest of her colleagues in the dark, saying her parents had insisted on secrecy. He told her he understood, wondering what he would have done in the same situation. Sometimes it wasn’t easy to do the right thing when your heart told you otherwise.

He told her he’d catch up with the details of what had happened the following morning, when, hopefully, they’d be able to charge the suspects, and went to bed relieved that at least one case, albeit not one that officially involved him, had ended happily. He felt strongly about the cruel exploitation of people’s love of their pets to make money and he hoped the law would come down heavily on the perpetrators.

As soon as he arrived at work the next day, he told Gerry about Trish’s call. The DCI’s face turned red when he heard the news. Wesley feared for his blood pressure.

‘Why the hell wasn’t I told about this?’

‘The instructions were no police, and Trish’s parents didn’t want to put the dog’s life at risk, which is quite understandable.At least we’ve got the culprits now. They’re down in the cells, so all’s well that ends well.’

Gerry was slowly calming down and he sank into his chair with a loud sigh. ‘I still would have liked to know what was going on.’ He looked Wesley in the eye. ‘It makes me feel like Trish didn’t trust me not to go in like a bull on the rampage.’

‘She didn’t confide in me either, so I don’t think it was personal, Gerry. Honestly. The Waltons just thought it was best to comply with the dognappers’ demands.’

Wesley decided to change the subject to Neil’s discovery of the human remains in the grounds of Sycamore House the previous day.

Gerry put his head in his hands. ‘This is all we need.’

‘No need to worry. Neil’s certain the bones are centuries old. None of our business.’

‘That’s a relief.’ The DCI glanced at his watch. It was time for him to deliver what he referred to as his morning sermon. But when he addressed the team, Wesley noticed that he made no mention of Bella’s return or Neil’s grisly find. Neither incident had anything to do with the murders of Aleric Donnal and Sue Potter, so as far as he was concerned, they weren’t relevant.

As soon as Wesley returned to his desk, his phone rang.

‘Hello, Inspector Peterson. This is Darren. I was doing some work on the leylandii at Sycamore House, remember?’

‘Of course. What can I do for you, Darren?’

‘My grandad spoke to you. I dropped off that briefcase he found.’

‘That’s right, thanks,’ Wesley said, wishing the man would come to the point.

‘He asked me to call you. He doesn’t like using the smartphone I gave him, you see. Says he keeps pressing the wrong buttons and weird things pop up. Grandad’s a bit old-school.’

Wesley smiled to himself. There were times when he could sympathise with Pete Wolsley. ‘I understand. What did he want to speak to me about?’

‘He’s remembered something about when he was working at Sycamore House. While he was there, that hippy bloke said something.’

Wesley took a deep breath. He knew Darren would get there eventually, but in the meantime he had to be patient or he might miss something vital. ‘What exactly did he say?’

‘It was something about a cowboy.’