Monty and Me: A heart-warmingly wagtastic novel!

‘Can you explain how your fingerprints ended up on Salt’s wine glass? Huh? The same one he’d been using just before he died,’ demanded Leach.

‘They can’t be my fingerprints.’

‘Give it a rest, Larry,’ said Pearl. ‘We know you were there.’

Larry crossed his arms. ‘I’m not saying another word till you get me a lawyer.’

Leach gave Pearl a got-him-by-the-short-and-curlies look. ‘Come on, Larry. You’ve been caught red-handed. Why don’t you tell us where you hid Salt’s laptop and iPhone? You know it’ll be better for you if you cooperate.’

Nice stared at his stained old trainers in sulky silence.

‘You probably didn’t mean to kill him, right? Did Salt grab you or something? Did you panic?’

Nice’s only response was, ‘Lawyer!’

Leach stood, followed by Pearl. ‘Okay, we’ll get you one, but he won’t save you, Larry. Confessing could make things easier for you. Think about it.’

They left the interview room but Rose continued to observe Nice through the video feed. She’d watched and listened with every ounce of her concentration and hadn’t experienced a moment’s tingling. Not even a minor itch. As far as she was concerned, Larry was telling the truth. But it was obvious her superiors thought differently. Was she the only one to think this was all too easy and way too neat?

She left the observation room and found Leach and Pearl in the corridor.

‘We’ve got the little prick,’ said Pearl, ignoring her.

‘But no bite marks,’ Leach said.

‘That we know of. Could be somewhere else on his scrawny body.’

Leach shook his head. ‘I need a confession, or a DNA match from the dog’s teeth.’

‘But, boss, the wine glass puts him at Salt’s house and he’s got Salt’s gear in his lock-up. It’s a burglary gone wrong,’ said Pearl.

‘Not sure. It seems all too …’

Rose interjected, ‘Easy?’

Leach shrugged. ‘Perhaps.’

Pearl raised his eyes in frustration.

Rose persevered. ‘Sir, this doesn’t feel right. Larry has been in and out of here for the last ten years and it’s always been about dealing in stolen goods. Not even an assault, let alone murder. And he’s never actually committed a robbery before. He might be a creep but he’s not stupid, so why would he leave the silver in a lock-up he knows we know about? That really is too dumb. It feels like a set-up to me.’

Leach squared up to her, his body filling most of the width of the corridor. Rose made a mental note not to get stuck behind Leach if the fire alarm went off. He didn’t move as quickly as he used to.

‘Rose, I’m an old-fashioned plod and I’m all for a bit of gut instinct, but it’s not looking good for Nice. We find a DNA match, he’s going down for murder.’

She could feel Pearl standing close behind her; she was caught between them like meat in a sandwich.

‘Rose, it’s not enough to feel he’s innocent,’ Pearl mocked. ‘Feelings can let you down, as you well know. You didn’t pick up on Ray Summers’ lies, did you?’

‘Shut it,’ Leach snapped, surprising Pearl just as much as Rose. His rebuke encouraged her to go on.

‘What if this isn’t about a robbery?’ Rose persevered. Pearl would never listen to her. At least Leach might hear her out. ‘What if it’s about something more complicated, like what the Professor knew? Like what’s on his laptop?’ Her voice had gone high-pitched and squeaky with nerves. ‘The silverware theft could be a smoke screen.’

Leach folded his arms. ‘Go on.’

She cleared her throat. ‘I find it odd that Professor Salt was our leading expert in apiculture …’

Leach looked blank.

‘Bees, sir.’

‘For crying out loud, just say bees then,’ he growled.

Rose nodded. ‘He was trying to understand why the honey bee is dying out. So, isn’t it a bit odd he’s murdered just when he’s about to announce a major breakthrough?’

‘What breakthrough?’ Pearl challenged. ‘His department head never said anything about a breakthrough.’

‘I checked academic journals and media on background. He was highly regarded and there’s lots of support for his theories. His work is sponsored by Flay Bioscience, and their PR department has been whipping up a frenzy over a cure for whatever is killing bees. The big launch is in two weeks’ time.’

‘Oh, come on,’ said Pearl, ‘you don’t seriously think someone is going to commit murder over sick bees?’

‘Why not? Flay Bioscience is big money. It’s in the Footsie 100 and makes hundreds of millions in profit each year. People have killed for far less.’

Leach ground his teeth as if he had marbles in his mouth to contend with.

‘Look, Rose, if there’s a choice between a conspiracy and a cock-up, I’ll bet on a cock-up every time.’ Leach tapped his chin with his pudgy finger. ‘Is it likely that a high-profile corporation orders a hit-man to kill their star researcher? I don’t think so. However, Larry-the-loser cocking up a burglary? Now, that I can believe.’

‘But, sir …’

Leach held up his hand. ‘Dave, has Flay Bioscience given us permission to see Salt’s files and emails?’

‘No, sir. The company won’t allow access, claiming confidentiality and patent issues.’

‘Have you gone after a warrant?’ asked Leach.

‘Not yet.’

‘Get one. We should cover all angles.’ Leach directed his next order to Rose. ‘Talk to the neighbour, Francis Grace. He was muddled when we spoke to him on the night. He might be clearer today.’