Read Online Death of an Innocent by Sally Spencer - Free Book Online

Nothing he could have let slip at an unguarded moment?’
    â€˜Mr Woodend is the best boss I’ve ever worked for,’ Paniatowski said passionately. ‘He’s very good at his job, is straight with the team working under him, and is as honest as they come.’
    â€˜As far as you know.’
    â€˜As far as anyone can ever really know anything.’
    â€˜But everyone is capable of making a mistake about the people they work with. And if I were you, Sergeant, I really would keep that in mind from now on. In other words, what I’m saying is that there’s a distinction between being
wrong
and being
rotten
, and if you have to choose between them, it’s always better to be seen as wrong. Do you understand what I’m telling you here, Sergeant?’
    â€˜No, sir,’ Paniatowski said. ‘No, I’m not sure that I do.’
    Evans’ sigh had just a hint of exasperation in it. ‘Give it a little time to settle, and I’m sure you’ll get the point, Sergeant,’ he said. ‘All right, you can go now.’
    Monika stood and walked towards the door. It was only as she reaching for the handle that she realized she was trembling.

Seven
    T he barking of the dogs cut through the empty moorland air like the wail of a demented banshee. There was nothing warm or welcoming about it. It was not even a fair warning that the animals would defend their territory if they were forced to. It was, instead, a declaration of war – a solemn promise that if they once escaped from behind the high chain-linked fence, they would wreak a terrible destruction on any living thing they could find.
    As Woodend parked his ten-year-old Wolseley in the shadow of the Moorland Village, the dogs came loping purposefully toward the fence. There were four of them. All Dobermanns. All with powerful shoulders and thin, half-starved bodies. As he stepped out of his car, the Chief Inspector was more than conscious of the fact that their wild eyes were fixed so intently on him that they almost seemed to be burning their way into his skin.
    Woodend lit up a cigarette, and returned their gaze. The dogs had come to a halt a few feet from the fence, and their lips were curled back to reveal their razor-sharp teeth. The leader of the pack tensed, then took a flying leap at the wire. Several feet away – and knowing logically that he was perfectly safe – Woodend felt himself flinch and take a sudden step backwards.
    The dog hit the wire with a force which would have knocked even a heavy man like him to the ground. The wire bulged dangerously outwards for a split second, then sprang back, catapulting the dog to the ground. A second dog, undeterred by his leader’s failure, flung himself at the wire with the same determination, and with the same result. The remaining two, seeing the pointlessness of their repeating the attack, contented themselves with adopting a menacing crouch from which it would be possible to spring should the fence miraculously disappear.
    The barking all but stopped, and was replaced now by low growls, primeval enough to turn the blood cold. Woodend took a drag on his cigarette. The Dobermanns were not so much animals as trained killing-machines, he decided, and, given the opportunity, they would rip out his throat – or anybody else’s – without a second’s hesitation.
    He turned to look at the scene behind him. The council snowploughs had been out working since first light, and now the snow itself was banked up at the sides of the road, forming a cold, glistening palisade which separated the civilized man-made world of the asphalt from the savage beauty of the moors.
    The dogs were still emitting their low growl, but there was no accompanying noise of machinery. The weather had put a temporary stop to work on ‘the excitingly original concept in rural living from T. A. Taylor and Associates’.
    And a good thing, too! the Chief Inspector thought.