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Chapter 93

DetectiveChief Inspector Tai-young Lee met them at Highwood at 7 a.m. She took one look at Poe and said, ‘When was the last time you slept? You have eyes like a racing dog’s bollocks.’

Poe laughed. ‘You’ve been in Newcastle too long,’ he said.

‘PD Bailey will be here soon.’

‘PD Bailey?’ Bradshaw asked, stifling a yawn. ‘What’s that?’

‘Police Dog Bailey,’ Lee replied. ‘He’s the firearms detection dog we’re using this time.’

‘Aww, I bet he’s so cute!’

‘He’s a working dog, Tilly,’ Poe said. ‘So don’t feed him any treats.’

‘I won’t, Poe.’

‘And if either of you have had a toot of something to stay awake, I advise you to say so now,’ Lee said. ‘Bailey’s also a drugs detection dog.’

‘I don’t even know what “toot” means, Detective Chief Inspector Tai-young Lee,’ Bradshaw said, ‘but neither of us takes drugs, if that’s what you mean. Poe won’t even take medicine when he’s supposed to. He’s been prescribed codeine for an abscess in his tooth and I found the unfilled prescription a fortnight ago in a book he was reading. He’d written a list of his favourite sausages on the back.’

‘Thanks, Tilly,’ Poe said.

‘OK then,’ Lee said. ‘Shall we go in? We can have a look around before PD Bailey gets here.’

PD Bailey was a cocker spaniel. His coat was blue roan and, like all spaniels, he had energy to burn. He was wagging his tail so hard that half his body was moving.

‘Can I pet him?’ Bradshaw asked his handler.

‘As long as you don’t mind getting licked to death.’

‘She doesn’t,’ Poe confirmed.

After two minutes Bradshaw stood up and said, ‘I have two favourite dogs now, Poe. Do you think we could train Edgar to sniff out guns?’

‘Guns? Definitely not.Buns?Almost certainly.’

The only room to get a positive response for firearms from PD Bailey was Elcid Doyle’s study again. The spaniel didn’t show a shred of interest in any other room in the house.

‘Are you satisfied there are no shotguns on the premises, Sergeant Poe?’ Tai-young Lee asked after PD Bailey and his handler had left for another job.

‘Dogs’ noses can’t be fooled,’ he admitted.

He was disappointed. He wasn’t sure what he’d wanted to find, only that he’d wanted to find something. If Elcid Doylehadbeen cleaning his shotguns when he was murdered, they had to have been in the house. The CPS might convince a particularly moronic jury that someone could throw a small handgun seventy yards, but shotguns were long and awkward and heavy. Poe reckoned he had decent upper body strength but he knew he couldn’t throw one more than thirty yards. Yet PD Bailey’s nose was one hundred million times more sensitive than a human’s – he wouldn’t have missed anything. The shotguns weren’t in the house. The link between Elcid Doyle’s murder and the Botanist case was looking tenuous.

His phone rang. It was Ania Kierczynska.

‘Excuse me, ma’am, I’d better take this,’ he said, stepping away. ‘Ania, thanks for getting back to me. I was going to ask you to apply for a judge in chambers, but my lead hasn’t panned out as I hoped it would.’

‘I wish you’d told me this ten minutes ago,’ she replied. ‘I’ve just emailed it in.’

‘Can you cancel it?’

‘I’ll see if we can get hold of a clerk before the judge starts working his way through his in-tray.’

‘Sorry about that. And can you tell Estelle I haven’t given up?’

‘I will do. And remember she still wants to see you.’