Cooper nodded. For the unwanted, the end was pretty brutal. If not a bullet, then a steel bolt into the side of the brain. Then their butchered carcasses loaded on to refrigerated lorries and driven to France.

‘Why thoroughbreds, though?’

‘It’s what the trade wants. Thoroughbreds make good, lean meat. You might think the shire types would be better, but they have too much bone, and too much fat in the carcass. And those overweight ponies that some child has ruined – they’re no good, either.’

‘There must be dealers who find the horses to send to the abattoirs,’ said Cooper.

‘Yes, of course. The animals that come here are sourced in a variety of ways.’

‘Horse auctions?’

‘That would be one way.’

‘You take horses from dealers like Patrick Rawson, don’t you?’

‘I knew Rawson,’ said Hawley. ‘He died, didn’t he? It was on the TV news. I thought that must be what you came about. You being from Derbyshire Police.’

‘Your number was one of the last that Mr Rawson called before he died,’ said Cooper. ‘Did you speak to him yourself?’

‘Yes, I talked to him on Monday.’

‘What time?’

‘Oh, during the afternoon some time. He sounded as though he was in his car. But then, he was almost always in his car when he called. That was the way that Patrick did business.’

‘On the move, yes.’

‘Exactly.’

‘And this was a business call?’

‘Oh, yes. I wouldn’t say I was on social terms with him exactly.’

‘What was the reason for his call?’

‘The usual,’ said Hawley. ‘He expected to have some stock to bring in. He was calling to make sure we could take them.’

‘Stock?’ said Irvine.

Hawley turned to him. ‘Horses. Horses for slaughter.’

‘Did he say how many?’

‘Up to a dozen. He wasn’t sure on the number.’

‘Which suggests that he hadn’t actually bought them at that stage,’ said Cooper.

‘I suppose so.’

Hawley walked with them towards the car park, away from the nervous horses and the smell of blood.

‘Mr Hawley, if a buyer went to a horse auction, what would he be bidding on?’

‘Horses from riding stables, some from private punters.’

Cooper thought about Patrick Rawson’s Mitsubishi 4×4 parked by the field barn near Longstone Moor. He recalled that it had a tow bar, but there was no sign of a trailer, let alone anything that would be big enough to accommodate a dozen horses.

‘How would Mr Rawson have transported the animals that he wanted to bring to you?’ he asked. ‘Would he bring them himself?’

‘Sometimes, if it was just one or two. But if there were bigger numbers involved, he would use a local haulier. He had contacts in every area.’

‘You would keep records of each delivery, I suppose?’

‘Are you kidding? There are mountains of paperwork. The drivers hate it.’

Cooper produced his card. ‘Would you do something for me? Check your records for hauliers that Mr Rawson has previously used in the North Derbyshire area. Then give me a call with their names.’