Page 68 of The Chapel of Bones

Gerry flopped down on his swivel chair, which creaked under his weight. For a second Wesley was afraid it might collapse, but his fears were unfounded. Gerry made himself comfortable, pushed his heap of paperwork to one side and picked up a pen and a scrap of paper for his notes.

‘One. Why was Sue Potter killed? Are we ruling out the theory that Suzy Porter was the real target?’

Wesley shrugged. ‘Probably. Although I keep thinking of that note and picture.’ He closed his eyes, trying to recall the words he’d memorised. ‘ “The Lanzani is a cruel beast who attacks any animal not of its own kind. Not even the bold lion is safe from its implacable hatred.” Nobody has ever hinted that Sue Potter was cruel or capable of implacable hatred. Suzy Porter, on the other hand, seems to be almost universally disliked. Beryl Richmond, who sent those emails, can’t be the only person who has reason to hate her.’

‘But has she any link with Aleric Donnal? Like Sue Potter, he seemed to be a harmless individual, so I’m wondering whether he was killed because of something he knew or witnessed. And what about Jim Baker and that zoo? Why kill Dale Gadson? And what did Gadson want to tell us? Was he killed to stop him talking?’ Gerry put his head in his hands. Then he looked up, his eyes filled with despair. ‘I feel we’re no closer to solving the case than we were on day one. I’m losing my touch, Wes.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Wesley quickly. ‘Jim Baker’s on the loose and he has to be our number one suspect. If he was living at StJulian’s around the time Aleric Donnal died, he’s either the killer or he knows something.’

‘You’re right, Wes. He argued with Sue Potter and he was at the zoo the morning Dale Gadson was killed. Maybe it was Baker that Gadson wanted to talk to us about.’

‘What about the lanzani connection; the medieval beasts?’

‘You’ve seen that art Baker does. It’s full of weird animals. He might as well have daubed “Hello, I’m the murderer” over the hideous things. No, Wes, I don’t think we need to look any further.’

The DCI sat back, satisfied, like a man who’d just enjoyed a good meal. Wesley knew he might be right about Jim Baker, but he still had a niggling feeling that there was something they were missing.

‘Dale Gadson told us that he took over the running of the zoo when his father died.’

‘What about it?’

‘I’ve looked online for any mention of the place, and it turns out there was a tragedy there in 2011. Carla Gadson, aged seventeen, died in February that year. She was cleaning out the tiger’s cage when she was attacked and mauled to death.’

Gerry sat forward. ‘Just like someone wanted us to think Dale had been. What relation was Carla to Dale?’

‘She might have been his sister? Or a cousin? Shouldn’t be hard to find out. The report says that Carla was helping out at the zoo because the owner, Jacob Gadson, wanted to save money by not employing outsiders. At first her death was thought to be a terrible accident. Then a suicide note was found, and the inquest concluded that she’d let the tiger in on purpose.’

Gerry shuddered. ‘Suicide by tiger. Strange way to choose to go.’

‘I’ve asked one of the DCs to check it out. It wasn’t considered suspicious at the time.’

‘I don’t see how it’s relevant to this case, Wes. We mustn’t let ourselves get sidetracked.’

‘Even so, I’d like to see the inquest report for myself. Dale Gadson and Jim Baker were friends. We’re assuming Baker only met Dale when he moved into his grandmother’s bungalow, but did their friendship go back further? Maybe as far as 2011? Could Baker have been there when Carla Gadson died? Might he have been responsible in some way, and he disposed of Dale before he could tell us what he knew?’

‘OK. Check it out. At least this one can’t have anything to do with your mate Neil’s dig.’

Wesley was about to say he wouldn’t be too sure about that, but he stayed silent.

Then the phone on his desk rang, and his uncertainty turned to excitement.

Jim Baker had been found. And he was being brought in.

41

Jim Baker sat on a hard chair in an interview room in the bowels of Tradmouth police station, carefully selected by Gerry for its spartan and intimidating atmosphere. The duty solicitor sat beside him, a young man in a cheap suit who looked as though he’d rather be somewhere else.

‘Mr Baker. Good of you to join us,’ said Gerry with heavy irony.

‘You didn’t give me much choice. I was walking down the road minding my own business when this pigmobile drew up. I was dragged here against my will. It’s a violation of my human rights.’

‘We only want to ask you some questions,’ said Wesley gently, playing good cop. ‘You’ll know that your friend Dale Gadson was found dead at his zoo yesterday.’

‘I’ve been told, but I can’t believe it. Dale was always so careful. After what he told me happened to his sister . . . He said that’s how she killed herself.’

Wesley caught Gerry’s eye. ‘We’re aware of that. At first it looked as though he’d been mauled by the lions. Then our pathologist found out that he was dead before he was put into their cage.’

‘The lions were framed,’ said Gerry. ‘They didn’t do it. Unless they’ve taken to strangling their victims.’