Savage Moon

'It's Detective Inspector, Sir, and I'm afraid we can't wait. You'll come with us now.'

Hobson's pale eyes shifted to Jon's side as Rick stepped forwards too. The bluster disappeared from his voice. 'What's this about?'

'Guess.'

Hobson turned to his young assistant. 'Martin, get Mr O'Brien to feed Mara and Mweru.' He handed the empty bucket over. 'Don't forget their vitamin supplement.'

Once they were out of earshot of the crowd, Hobson said,

'Am I under arrest?'

'No,' Jon replied. 'But you would have been if you didn't agree to come with us.'

'I don't understand. This is to do with the attacks, isn't it?'

'Let's just leave it until we get to the station.'

With Hobson in the back of the car, they set off for the A624, aiming for the motorway back into Manchester. Jon kept an eye on Hobson in the rear view mirror. The man was silent. Too silent. He's thinking through his options, thought Jon. Suddenly he wanted to get the interview going. A traffic bulletin announced big delays on the M67 so Jon turned towards Mossley Brow instead. Ten minutes later they were escorting him into the station's reception.

'Is Inspector Clegg here?' Jon asked. 'We need an interview room.'

Clegg appeared seconds later, shock showing on his face when he spotted Hobson. 'DI Spicer. You need an interview room?' He glanced at Hobson again.

'Yes, thanks. Where can we go?'

He led them through into the corridor and opened the first door they came to. Jon ushered Hobson inside then said to Rick,

'Stay with him, I'll be two minutes.'

Once the door was shut, he turned to Clegg. 'We'll need blank tapes.'

Clegg looked at the door. 'Why have you brought him in?'

'There's a lot of circumstantial evidence tying him in with this whole mess.'

'He's a suspect?'

'More than that. I think he could be our man. I'm keen to get the interview started as quickly as possible.'

Clegg lumbered off to his office, returning with two blank tapes. 'Mind if I sit in?'

'Be my guest,' Jon replied, peeling the cellophane off. Once the machine was recording, Jon explained to Hobson he wasn't being formally charged with anything but, in the interests of the investigation, it would be helpful if he could clarify a few points.

Once Hobson gave his assent, Jon leaned forward. Rick was sitting on one side while Clegg leaned against the wall in the opposite corner. 'Where were you between six and ten last night, Mr Hobson?'

'At home.'

'What were you doing?'

'Watching telly.'

'What did you watch?'

'The usual stuff. A few soaps. There was a film on with Sean Connery. The one about the prison where he has a white wig.' Fine, Jon thought. You've got last night's television schedule worked out. Doesn't mean you weren't up on that moor with a tape recorder. 'And the morning of Trevor Kerrigan's death?'

'That was yesterday?'

'Correct.'

'I was opening the zoo up.'

'At dawn?'

'Well, I usually get up at six-thirty and sign for the food delivery at the main gates at seven-thirty.'

'Anyone help you with that?'

'Yes, Mr O'Brien. He is often there before me.'

'You saw him yesterday morning?'

'Yes, he was there.'

'And that was when?'

'I said. Seven-thirty, maybe just after.'

Kerrigan was found just before seven. Could Hobson have made it from the Brookvale golf course to his zoo in half an hour? If the roads were quiet, yes. But he would have also needed to remove a lot of blood from his person before signing for any deliveries of meat. 'Tell me a bit about your time in Kenya.'

'Sorry?'

'You mentioned to me that you'd seen a leopard drag the carcass of a baby giraffe up a tree in a Kenyan game park.'

'Oh that. Yes, I've been to Kenya on three occasions.'

'Holidays?'

'And research. I stayed for a few weeks each time.'

'Does everyone speak English over there?'

'Mostly, yes.'

'What do they speak if it's not English?'

'There are a variety of tribal dialects. I'm not sure what they are.'

'You've no idea at all? Surely it helped to have a few words? Please, thank you, that sort of thing.'

'Afraid not.'

Jon regarded him, wondering if it was a mocking look he'd caught in those pale blue eyes. 'I take it you've seen the papers this morning?'

'Yes. I was surprised you released the story about the

Medlock. Won't that cause a fair amount of alarm?'

'It already has. And I didn't release that information. Someone else did.'

'By the way you're staring, I take it you think it was me?'

'Do you ever have dealings with Manchester Evening Chronicle reporters?'

'No. Other than with people in their promotions department, or if we have any interesting new births to report.'

'No one in their crime section?'

Hobson blinked, white lashes creating a haze at the edges of his eyes. 'Someone did come to visit me yesterday. She was asking about panthers. In fact, she was asking about you, DI Spicer.'

'How do you mean?'

'She wanted to know if I'd spoken to you. She seemed to have caught wind of the river theory. I suggested that she contact you directly.'

Something niggled at the back of Jon's mind. How did Carmel know he'd be there? His visit was unannounced, so Hobson didn't know he was on his way. Jon laid his palms on the table. 'When I last saw you, we spoke briefly about your relationship with Rose Sutton. I'd like to ask you a few more questions about that now.'

Hobson remained still, but Jon saw Clegg shift as he transferred his weight to the other foot.

'You're a bachelor, Mr Hobson?'

'I am.'

'Could I ask if you're romantically linked to anyone?'

'You mean girlfriends?' he asked in a patronising tone. Jon nodded.

'No.'

'Boyfriends then?' Jon watched Hobson with amusement. He'd thought that that would wipe the smile off his face.

'I'm not a… I'm not interested in other men.'

'As I mentioned before, Ken Sutton seemed to believe his wife was having an affair.' From the corner of his eye, he saw Clegg raise a hand and adjust his collar. 'Were you seeing her in that context?' he continued.

Hobson crossed his arms. 'I told you I wasn't.'

Jon tapped a forefinger against his chin. 'Thing is, Mr Hobson, some of her friends say she spoke very highly of you. Almost like she was a little bit in awe. You obviously shared an interest in panthers.'

'So therefore we were frolicking together amongst the heather?'

'She was seen once or twice crossing fields to a car park at the edge of Holme. No one was quite sure what she was up to.' Clegg fidgeted again and Jon almost asked him if he had anything to say. 'In my experience of murder cases, sex usually plays some sort of role. Especially when the victim is a woman.'

'I've had enough of this,' Hobson said, getting to his feet. Clegg extended a hand. 'Jeremy, sit down. DI Spicer? I need a word outside.'

Jon looked up, clocking the pained expression on the Inspector's face. 'OK. DS Saville, can you turn the tapes off while I consult with my colleague outside.'

Jon moved down the corridor before saying, 'You better have a damn good reason for butting in like that.'

The colour had risen in Clegg's cheeks and he struggled with his words. 'Hobson wasn't seeing Rose Sutton. I was.'

'Say that again.'

Clegg looked down, suddenly interested in the nails of his beefy hand. 'Rose and I had been seeing each other for the last few years.' He looked up. 'It was the extension of a friendship that went back ages. Far longer than Ken Sutton had known her.'

Jon stepped forward and thrust a finger into Clegg's face.

'I asked you that time at the top of Sutton's drive to come clean.'