police station...’
‘You mean Ben Lindley?’ Linda said, interrupting him.
Jason looked at her; it never ceased to amaze him the way that nothing ever seemed to escape her. He could not remember ever telling her about how Ben was giving him information from within the local police force and had been for years. Yet she knew.
‘Yes, Ben,’ he said, still confused. ‘He says that they found the guy who went missing’s car yesterday out on Maltham Lane. He said it was smashed to shit.’
‘A car accident?’ Linda said.
‘No. He said it looked like someone had taken a lump hammer to it, and the paint work was covered in scratches.’
Linda looked at him and frowned.
‘Please tell me you don’t think it was Altman’s tiger?’ she said.
Jason sighed. It seemed it was impossible to mention Charles Altman without people thinking you were talking nonsense. Altman just had that reputation as a kook, the mad man looking for monsters. Jason had to admit that he had felt the same way the first time he had met him, but the more he had spoken to him the more he found out how knowledgeable and intelligent he was. Yes he was odd and a little pompous, but his theories were solid.
‘Big cat,’ Jason said. ‘Altman never specified which species. It’s not that ridiculous either, there are plenty of sightings every year. Just look at the beast of Dartmoor. The government believed in that enough to send the Royal Marines in to search for it in 1982.’
‘Did they find it?’ she said with a wry smile.
‘Well, no, but that’s not the point. Anyway, apparently Pearce turned up while Ben and his partner were checking out the car. Ben said he was acting really weird. He wanted them to get the car out of there as quickly as possible and refused to let them search the nearby fields. Surely that would be standard procedure wouldn’t it?’
Linda shook her head.
‘I don’t know,’ she said, ‘but it’s not evidence that there’s some wild animal stalking the countryside killing people.’
‘No, but it shows that at best Pearce is incompetent, and at worst he’s deliberately perverting investigations.’
Linda walked away, shaking her head. He could tell that she didn’t want to hear anymore. He sat down at his desk, trying to think of what to do. There had to be some way of proving that Pearce was doing these things on purpose. If he could prove it, he could confront the detective. He would offer Pearce the choice; either he tells him what he is covering up, or he prints the story of his cover up.
Perhaps if he put a little pressure on him, this week he would print a story about Phil Morgan’s disappearance and how his car was found, put in a few little hints that he knew more than he should, and let Pearce sweat a while. He needed some photographs of the place the car was found.
He got up and walked over to Linda’s desk.
‘Could you send Rob Murray out to Maltham Lane to take some pictures of the site where they found the car? It should be easy enough to find, apparently there’s still a lot of debris on the verge.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Rob’s on holiday for the next three weeks. Australia, I think.’
‘Jesus,’ Jason said. ‘We’re paying these freelance photographers far too much. What about Bill Taylor?’
‘He’s retired.’
‘So we have no photographers?’ Jason asked.
‘Only Harry Mills, but he’s over in Lincoln covering that little girl who’s getting the bravery award.’
‘I don’t suppose you could nip out there and take some snaps for me this afternoon could you?’
‘I’m on my bike,’ she complained.
‘Perfect,’ Jason said with a smile. ‘It’s near enough on your way home. Take the afternoon off, go by there on your way home and bring me the pictures in tomorrow.’
‘If it gets me the afternoon off I suppose I can do it. You’ll have to hold the fort here yourself then.’
Jason shook his head.
‘No, set the answer phone,’ he said. ‘I’m
‘You mean Ben Lindley?’ Linda said, interrupting him.
Jason looked at her; it never ceased to amaze him the way that nothing ever seemed to escape her. He could not remember ever telling her about how Ben was giving him information from within the local police force and had been for years. Yet she knew.
‘Yes, Ben,’ he said, still confused. ‘He says that they found the guy who went missing’s car yesterday out on Maltham Lane. He said it was smashed to shit.’
‘A car accident?’ Linda said.
‘No. He said it looked like someone had taken a lump hammer to it, and the paint work was covered in scratches.’
Linda looked at him and frowned.
‘Please tell me you don’t think it was Altman’s tiger?’ she said.
Jason sighed. It seemed it was impossible to mention Charles Altman without people thinking you were talking nonsense. Altman just had that reputation as a kook, the mad man looking for monsters. Jason had to admit that he had felt the same way the first time he had met him, but the more he had spoken to him the more he found out how knowledgeable and intelligent he was. Yes he was odd and a little pompous, but his theories were solid.
‘Big cat,’ Jason said. ‘Altman never specified which species. It’s not that ridiculous either, there are plenty of sightings every year. Just look at the beast of Dartmoor. The government believed in that enough to send the Royal Marines in to search for it in 1982.’
‘Did they find it?’ she said with a wry smile.
‘Well, no, but that’s not the point. Anyway, apparently Pearce turned up while Ben and his partner were checking out the car. Ben said he was acting really weird. He wanted them to get the car out of there as quickly as possible and refused to let them search the nearby fields. Surely that would be standard procedure wouldn’t it?’
Linda shook her head.
‘I don’t know,’ she said, ‘but it’s not evidence that there’s some wild animal stalking the countryside killing people.’
‘No, but it shows that at best Pearce is incompetent, and at worst he’s deliberately perverting investigations.’
Linda walked away, shaking her head. He could tell that she didn’t want to hear anymore. He sat down at his desk, trying to think of what to do. There had to be some way of proving that Pearce was doing these things on purpose. If he could prove it, he could confront the detective. He would offer Pearce the choice; either he tells him what he is covering up, or he prints the story of his cover up.
Perhaps if he put a little pressure on him, this week he would print a story about Phil Morgan’s disappearance and how his car was found, put in a few little hints that he knew more than he should, and let Pearce sweat a while. He needed some photographs of the place the car was found.
He got up and walked over to Linda’s desk.
‘Could you send Rob Murray out to Maltham Lane to take some pictures of the site where they found the car? It should be easy enough to find, apparently there’s still a lot of debris on the verge.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Rob’s on holiday for the next three weeks. Australia, I think.’
‘Jesus,’ Jason said. ‘We’re paying these freelance photographers far too much. What about Bill Taylor?’
‘He’s retired.’
‘So we have no photographers?’ Jason asked.
‘Only Harry Mills, but he’s over in Lincoln covering that little girl who’s getting the bravery award.’
‘I don’t suppose you could nip out there and take some snaps for me this afternoon could you?’
‘I’m on my bike,’ she complained.
‘Perfect,’ Jason said with a smile. ‘It’s near enough on your way home. Take the afternoon off, go by there on your way home and bring me the pictures in tomorrow.’
‘If it gets me the afternoon off I suppose I can do it. You’ll have to hold the fort here yourself then.’
Jason shook his head.
‘No, set the answer phone,’ he said. ‘I’m
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