Jon spotted the zoo's logo on its breast.
Spread out across the table was an ordnance survey map. Jon recognised it immediately as Explorer OL1, the Peak District's dark peak area. He used the reverse of the same map for Sunday rambles around Edale. The map had been marked with a smattering of red crosses with dates beside them. Jon saw they stretched from the edge of Mossley Brow, across to Holmbridge and then south right down to Ringinglow.
'Sheep-kill locations farmers have reported to me in the last few years,' Hobson explained with a tilt of his head towards the notice board. 'The photos are mine. I've made it a bit of a hobby trying to track this fellow.'
'This fellow?'
Hobson looked at him as if he was a particularly slow school boy. 'The panther.'
Bloody hell, Jon thought. I wish everyone wouldn't take it for granted there's one out there. 'Ever actually seen it?'
'Not once.'
'What about tracks or hair or — what do you call it — droppings?'
'You mean spoor. No, I haven't found definitive proof yet.' Jon's eyes went to the black cross by the edge of Holme. 'That where Mrs Sutton was found?'
'Correct.'
Jon looked at the left-hand edge of the map. It ended at Mossley Brow. He tapped the air six inches to the side of the thick paper. 'A man was discovered around here this morning. He was in a car park at the edge of some fields.' Hobson didn't seem surprised. You already know, Jon thought. Clegg has told you.
'What sort of fields? Ones used for grazing sheep?'
'Yeah, I saw sheep in them.'
Hobson began clicking his tongue as he studied the map.
'There are swathes of field to the north and south of us. That land could comfortably allow the animal access to the fields you mentioned.'
Jon pointed to a pair of red lines running past Mossley Brow.
'That's the A635 and A670. You're saying, if there is a creature, it crossed both roads looking for food?'
'It's familiar with the presence of man. I imagine it's observed cars crossing the moors at night. As long as the roads were quiet, it could have done.'
'But why should an animal that's happily been hunting sheep in some of England's wildest terrain leave it for inhabited areas and roads?'
Hobson pursed his lips. 'I really don't know. What if it's no longer hunting sheep?'
There was silence in the room as Jon digested the implications of the comment. 'Had Mrs Sutton been, you know… fed on?' Clegg closed the door. 'See for yourself. We keep this board covered up because the woman's nephew is a constable here.' He yanked the sheet off, revealing the set of photographs below.
Jon was immediately struck by how similar the woman looked to the slaughtered sheep on the neighbouring board. Like so many of them, she was lying on a patch of wiry grass, clothing around her neck shredded to tatters. Like them, her limbs were slack and outstretched. Like them her wounds gaped open, red tissue below the skin no different to that of the sheep. A sense of alarm filled him. He'd seen countless bodies in the surroundings of Manchester. On pavements, in doorways, hallways, beds and baths. He'd seen the damage inflicted by guns, knives, baseball bats, bricks, machetes and razors. But this was different. This was someone who'd been savagely torn open, someone whose rain- soaked body had then lain on a dark moor, not touched by a streetlight, car light or any electric light at all. Only the moon had illuminated what took place that night.
His eyes focused on her wounds. 'Is any of her missing?'
'Some,' Clegg replied. 'Mainly from her throat. But there had been a lot of wildlife activity by the time Mr Sutton found her.' I'm not sure if I want to hear this, Jon thought. 'Meaning?'
'Mr Sutton was initially attracted to the body's location by the squabbling of crows. We also recovered a feather that has been identified by a park ranger as that of a Peregrine falcon. We think the bird of prey found her at first light, then was chased off the, er, kill, by the crows.'
This sounded more and more like a bloody wildlife documentary. Something David Attenborough would narrate from the plains of Africa. 'So we don't know who or what was responsible for removing her flesh.'
'True,' Hobson answered. 'But if it was the panther, its fear of humans has been overcome. Was there any evidence of flesh having been removed from this morning's victim?'
'He's being taken for a post mortem as we speak. I'll let you know.' He waved a hand towards the images of partially consumed sheep. 'He didn't look like that though. The guy's throat was ripped out, that appeared to be all.' Jon watched as a glance bounced between Clegg and Hobson. 'What? How is that significant?'
Hobson placed his forearms on the table, lacing his fingers together. 'To answer your question, I'll need to describe the hunting techniques of the panther.'
This guy was itching to give a lecture. 'Go ahead, I'm all ears.'
'OK. You're aware black panthers and leopards are the same species, panthera pardus?'
Jon shook his head. 'But leopards are covered in spots.'
'Black panthers are actually melanistic leopards. That is to say, they have very dark coats in the same way as albino leopards have very white coats. The spots are just harder to see. Black panthers in their natural habitat are extremely rare, doing best hunting in the dense forests of Asia. The reason we've had several sightings of them in this country is because their exotic colouring makes them very attractive to lovers of unusual pets. It's highly likely that, in the past, individuals escaped from private collectors. Many also believe that when the 1976
Dangerous Wild Animals act made it illegal to keep them as pets, numerous animals were released into the wild.'
Sensing that the other man was only just getting started, Jon pulled a chair out and sat down. 'Any ever gone missing from your zoo?'
Hobson smiled. 'Never. The fence to their enclosure meas- ures thirty feet high and extends below the ground by another ten feet.'
'Go on.'
'A few basic facts. Leopards live for up to fifteen years and measure over two and half metres from nose to tip of tail. They're big, powerful animals.'
'So what do they prey on in the wild?'
'Gazelles, antelope, impala, monkeys, baboons, even young wildebeest. They'll also prey on snakes and peacocks if they're hungry enough. Of course, when their hunting territory overlaps with grazing land, they'll take sheep and goats too. The variety of their diet is due to the fact that leopards are highly adaptable, able to survive in almost any habitat that affords them cover. That includes savannah, forests, jungles and cold mountainous areas.'
Jon glanced at the map with its scattering of crosses. 'And how big is an individual leopard's territory?'
Hobson pulled up the sleeves of his jumper and placed his forearms on the table. Jon couldn't help noticing they were covered in white hairs. 'Anything up to forty square kilometres. They're solitary animals and very shy by nature. This reclusive- ness and their camouflage make them notoriously difficult to spot, as many disappointed customers on safari tours will tell you.'
Jon sat back, liking the sound of this less and less.
'Now, as regards hunting, they employ two techniques. First is the ambush, usually employed where cover is dense. The leopard will position itself overlooking an area used by its prey — cover could be ground foliage, rocks or the lowermost branches of a tree. When an animal comes within striking distance, the leopard pounces. If it is in a tree, it will almost always drop to the ground before attacking, though in some cases they've been observed launching themselves directly on to the back of their target. This method of attack is unique among the big cats as a result of a leopard's exceptional climbing ability.'