Peabody advanced, grinning, as she screeched to a halt in the farmyard.

‘We’ve bagged and boxed everything,’ he said. He tapped the side of the van. ‘We’ve got enough here to do such a number on this Mahoney wanker that he’ll never forget it.’

‘Did you find the jewelled collar?’ she asked, jumping out.

‘Erm, no.’ Peabody pondered. ‘But he’s banged to rights. Photographic have only just gone, and they’ve got loads of stuff too.’

‘Any other animals?’

‘Only the ones we found before.’

‘What about the black van?’

He shook his head, frowning as he sensed her displeasure. ‘No sign of any van on these premises. We’ve been through all the outbuildings. But Luce, we’ve got him – we caught him at it.’

‘We’ve got him for dog-fighting, Malcolm – not something that’s going to see him do serious time.’ She entered the cottage via its still open door. ‘Everyone, come in here, please.’

The other officers trooped inside, joining her in a small, cluttered kitchen.

All kinds of revolting mess filled its central table and surrounding worktops. The dull lighting and low, beamed ceiling only added to the gloom and the cramped atmosphere. The door had been open for hours now, but there was still a staleness in the air, a vague odour of spoiled food.

‘How thoroughly have you searched this house?’ she asked, her gaze roving from one blank, tired face to the next.

‘We’ve had a look around,’ Peabody answered, ‘but we gathered so much evidence from the barn and the outbuildings—’

‘So you’re saying you’ve not searched it at all?’ she interrupted, visibly vexed.

‘We’ve had a look around.’

‘What does that mean, Malcom? A cursory look? You’ve checked in a few drawers?’

No one spoke, but several shamefaced glances were exchanged.

‘Come on, Lucy,’ Peabody protested. ‘We’re looking for evidence of organised dog-fighting. And we’ve found it outside. Stacks of it. What exactly could he keep in here?’

‘I found some paperwork,’ a young policewoman called Laurie Darlington chipped in. ‘It was in a cupboard in the dining room. So I put it in the van.’

‘Show me,’ Lucy said.

They went back outside and opened the van. PC Darlington rummaged among the boxes and various plastic bags before lifting a clear plastic envelope tagged LD1, containing a bundle of dirty documents stapled together. Lucy didn’t unseal the paperwork but examined what she could of it through the plastic. Though the top sheet had been scribbled on almost unintelligibly, close analysis suggested that it was a customer log, detailing names and the services provided, plus payments and the like.

‘This is good,’ Lucy said. ‘In fact, this is excellent. But just at present it’s not what we’re looking for. Inside again, everyone, please.’