One Pig More

By Milly Reynolds

DI Mike Malone and his trusted partner DS Alan Shepherd are faced with a tricky problem. They are used to crimes which involve the theft of belongings, of animals, so what do they do when the local farmers suddenly find that they are the victims of giving? As they also have a local drugs operation to keep under surveillance and a friend to help, life is very busy - and interesting.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Milly Reynolds
• Release date: Jul 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005833695

Milly Reynolds

As you may have already guessed, Milly Reynolds is not my real name. Like my 'hero' Detective Inspector Mike Malone, I also hide my real identity. Having 'retired' from my job, I was a full-time teacher in a secondary school, I decided to pursue my dream of becoming a writer. So why Mike Malone? I love all things detective and wanted to create my own series. However, I decided not to go for the deep, dark thriller - I could never compete with the masters of that genre, like Jo Nesbo whose books I adore? Therefore I came to the decision that the Mike Malone series would be off-beat. I like to think that there is humour in my books; I don't want to scare people, I want to make them chuckle - there is not enough laughter in the world at the moment. As the series has progressed, I have become very attached to Mike; he is the comfortable pair of slippers that I put on at night. My husband has also become attached to Fi and I am under strict instructions not to let anything happen to her - yet. Living in Lincolnshire, I love the flat, endless landscapes and want these to be seen in my books alongside places that I know and love. Mike Malone has moved from the city to Lincolnshire and has fallen in love with the place; me, I was born here and can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be. However, although Mike was my first creation, he is not the only one. I have also created Jack Sallt, another Detective Inspector. Jack is grittier than Mike and there is not the humour in his stories that there is in the Mike Malone stories. I wanted to write a more 'grown-up' detective story. When time allows this will be developed into a series as well. With two male detectives under my wing, I also decided that it was time for the girls to take centre stage and 'Scorpion's Tale', my first novel featuring Liv Harris, a character in the Jack Sallt novels, was published in 2013. I am hoping that Liv will make another appearance at some point in the future. Not content with crime, I have also wandered into the realms of romance; my first stand-alone novel 'The Unseen Sky' was published August 2011. I'm lucky, I enjoy writing and find it just as relaxing to sit and create as it is to read, although sometimes a good book can get in the way of my writing. I read on average 50/60 books a year and always keep my blog updated with reviews. Anyway, I hope you like my novels. I have fun coming up with ideas for Mike -...

Book preview

Prologue

Fred Greengrass shut the door behind him and stepped outside into a November fog. Straightening his woollen hat, he looked up and decided that the weak sun should burn the worst of it away by lunchtime. In the house, Betty was busy sorting out the Monday morning washing; it was never a good time to be in the kitchen when she was doing that. At least, there was always plenty of stuff to do outside, especially today. Fireworks seemed to have been going off constantly for days. He could remember a time when Bonfire Night was November the fifth only. Not the week before and the week after as well. It wasn’t that he begrudged people their enjoyment, it was just the animals that he felt sorry for. Some suffered badly with all the flashes and explosions. Dilly, his five year old cat had spent most of the weekend cowering behind the sofa. He bent down and ruffled the ears of Basil, his black labrador. Stupid name, Basil, but it had been Betty’s turn to name an animal and she had thought he looked like a Basil. If it had been his turn he would have chosen something strong, like Buster, not something after a flaming plant!

He went into the barn and filled a bucket of pigswill. Now to see his little ladies; Dusty, Petula and Debbie. He had lost his Emily a couple of years ago, but these little ones were just fine, they had given him two litters this year and were taking a winter rest ready for breeding again in the spring. As for Boris, his boar, he was recuperating ready to spring into action again in the new year.

Now then, girls, he called as he strode over to the sty. Grubs up!

As he put his hand on the gate, he stopped. He put the bucket down, rubbed his eyes and looked again.

Well, blow me! Where did you come from?

One

I sat at the kitchen table with a coffee on one side of me and a hot lemon and ginger on the other. A cold! I never get colds. I had had a super weekend as Fi and I had tagged along with Alan, Cat and the kids to a firework display on Saturday. David, Alan and I had eaten hot-dogs while the girls had huddled in the warm with hot chocolate. David had shrieked with joy when the rockets exploded while little Katy, snuggled in her pram, had slept through it all.

Make sure you have your ginger and lemon before you go, Fi called over her shoulder while she finished scrambling some eggs. And take a couple of paracetamol at lunchtime. Drink plenty of fluids and you will be fine. It’s a cold, Mike. The sniffles. The same sniffles that David has had and he didn’t whinge.

I’m not whinging, I grumbled, blowing my nose loudly. I’m just not feeling very well. My head is all stuffed up and I can't breathe.

But you can find enough breath to moan, she laughed as she put the plate down in front of me. Why are men such bad patients?

Because we want our wives to look after us. I slipped my arm around her waist and squeezed.

I really want to be one hundred percent this week. Jill Farrow’s case is on Thursday and her daughter was flying in yesterday. I’m going to see them later today.

How is Jill?

Frightened. She is expecting jail.

Poor lady.

But Edna Craig is going to be a character witness for her.

You kept that secret.

I only found out on Friday and what with the fireworks, well. Mark Newland phoned me and said that Edna had approached him and asked how she could help Jill. Did you know that Edna goes to see her?

No!

Neither did I. Apparently she went to see Jill a couple of weeks after it had all happened and they have become friends. Edna has been supporting her for the past month. She even takes Rosie occasionally as well.

Hopefully, the judge will take that into consideration. Edna Craig has a good heart.

I’m interested in meeting the daughter.

Ah, the blonde bombshell.

I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks. I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.

Alan told me. He said you went all googly eyed when you talked to her on Skype.

Did not! I made a mental note to tear a strip off the lad when I got to work. I just commented that she was an attractive woman, but not a patch on you, my love.

Flattery gets you everywhere. Fi planted a kiss on my cheek and then sat down to her own breakfast of yoghurt and granola.

As if on cue, my phone rang and stuffing a forkful of eggs into my mouth, I pressed speakerphone.

Yes.

Grayson, Sir. Sorry it’s early. Fred Greengrass has asked if you can pop in on your way to the station. He has a bit of a conundrum.

A conundrum?

His exact words, Sir.

Ok, just give Shepherd a ring will you and tell him he’ll need his wellies when I pick him up.

Looks as if your visit to the blonde bombshell will have to be delayed, Fi grinned. Conundrums must come first.

If you say so.

I decided that the best response was just to carry on eating.

The fog was beginning to thin when we pulled into Fred Greengrass’ yard where the overnight rain had created a stepping stone path of puddles. Fred lumbered over to meet us, his face full of jovial good humour as always.

Morning, Mr Malone. I hope you’ve got your thinking cap on. This is gonna take a bit of fathoming out, I can tell you.

I can try, Fred, I said as I pulled a tissue from my pocket and blew my nose again. Sorry, I’ve got a bit of a cold.

A tot of hot whisky and honey before you go to bed will soon send it packing. Now come here and tell me what you think of this.

We followed Fred across the yard to the pigsty and looked inside. Four pink pigs were snuffling into the feeding trough. I looked around and was at a loss to see what Fred was wanting me to see.

Sorry, Fred. What am I looking at?

The pigs, of course. My ladies.

I raised an eyebrow at Shepherd and we leaned over and looked again. Four pigs, each with the correct amount of trotters, the correct amount of tails and the correct amount of ears. All were pink, albeit a bit muddy in places, but no one had splashed them with paint and none of them seemed to be injured in any way. I was stumped.

It must be my stuffy head, Fred, but they look perfectly healthy. What’s the problem?

There’s four of them.

Yes. There’s four of them.

I have three pigs, Dusty, Petula and Debbie.

The penny dropped. So where has the fourth pig come from?

Exactly, Mr Malone. Where has this little intruder come from? How did she get here? Did she fly?

She wasn’t here last night?

Fred looked at me as if I had just stepped out of a spaceship. If she had been here last night, I’d have phoned you last night, wouldn’t I?

Sorry, Fred. Have you examined her, has she got any markings to help identify where she came from?

Clean as a whistle. She’s a friendly little’un and I think younger than my beauties. It’s a conundrum, Mr Malone. A real brain teaser.

There doesn’t seem to be any tracks or anything around the sty, Shepherd commented as he studied the ground around the sty. But then it did rain overnight.

Exactly, Mr Malone. No trotter prints, so how did she get into the sty?

It’s a mystery. So, Fred, if she is ok staying with you while we ask around and see if anyone is missing a pig?

You can hardly take her into custody, can you? Fred laughed. Course she can stay here.

That’s good. We’ll be in touch. Regards to Betty.

Take care, Mr Malone and hope the cold is soon better. Remember, hot whisky.

I’ll remember. See you, Fred.

We left Fred looking at his little ladies and headed back to the car, jumping the puddles once again.

Any flashes of inspiration, lad? I asked.

Someone with too many mouths to feed has decided to off load a surplus animal?

Maybe, or maybe some kids having high jinx over the weekend. At least they didn’t harm her.

Two

Heather Creasey sat with her mother watching Lily play with the dolls house.

I can’t believe you kept this, Heather said. I used to make up stories all the time when I played with it.

You did. It was your favourite thing in the whole world.

Heather looked at her mother. How are you really, Mum?

I’m frightened, love. What am I going to do if they send me to jail? What am I going to do if I can’t talk to you everyday?

I should never have gone to Canada.

It’s not your fault, Heather. Your place is with your husband. It’s me. I’ve let my life revolve around you so much that I can't function without you. It’s silly. Other women manage. Some only see their daughter once a month and certainly don’t talk to them every day like I do you. They manage, why can’t I?

It’s because you were a single mum, it was always just you and me. You never had to share me, I suppose. I know it’s something we’ve never talked about, but what happened to Dad? You’ve never talked about him and I’ve never asked. It just never seemed important, you were always all I needed.

He divorced me. After my third miscarriage he decided that he would never have a son with me so he packed his bags and left.

So you were on your own when you fostered me? I never realised. For some reason I always thought that he had been there then and I just didn’t remember him.

No, darling. You came to me when I was at my loneliest. You saved me.

And I’ll be here for a while too, Mum. We’ll get you over this. I’ll make us another coffee.

Heather picked up the mugs and left her mother playing with Lily. For some reason her mother’s words had disturbed her. She switched the kettle on and leaned back against the sink, trying to put her thoughts into some coherent order. Her mum had snatched Rosie because of her crippling loneliness after she and Josh had gone to Canada. Her mum fostered her to cure her loneliness when her husband left her. She had never asked to see any official paperwork and her mother had never shown her any. But what if there wasn’t any? What if she had been snatched all those years ago, just like Rosie? The kettle boiled and Heather ignored it.