‘Yes. They should.’ Vaughn scratched under his collar.
‘Is there a problem, sir?’
‘No, not really. I mean, ninety-nine per cent of the time everything’s shipshape and above board, but sometimes, well, human error can creep in.’
‘Even in something as important as fallen stock records?’
‘People don’t like to admit it, of course, no more than the police like to admit they make errors, I’m sure.’ Vaughn smiled, but neither Winsome nor Gerry Masterson returned it. ‘But it happens sometimes,’ he went on. ‘Records don’t always match the numbers.’
‘Why would that be?’
‘Oh, perhaps another animal has died after the list was made up and before pickup. Caleb and the other drivers would usually change it on their copies of the commercial documents, even though they’re not really supposed to.’
‘There’s no black market in fallen animals, is there?’ Gerry asked. ‘No profit to be made?’
Vaughn looked puzzled. ‘No. How could there be? I don’t understand.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps food produce? You know, like the horsemeat in the burgers.’
Vaughn laughed. ‘No. That horsemeat business was a direct result of the banning of DSM in meat products.’
‘DSM?’
‘Desinewed meat. It’s what’s left when all the good cuts have been taken. It’s used in processed meats.’
‘The nostrils and eyelids?’ Gerry said.
‘It might include them, but that’s not the point. When its use was banned, producers had to find other sources of cheap meat products to make up the shortfall. Hence the horsemeat business.’
‘What about wild animals, game?’
‘The law’s complicated on that subject. You can blame the EU for that, too, of course.’
‘Why?’ Gerry persisted.
‘It’s a matter of disease, infection. Wild animals can carry disease, even though they haven’t been tended or fed by humans. Often it’s best to make sure. But in many cases, you can’t, and if it’s apparent the animal has died of natural causes, it’s permissible to bury it without calling us. On the other hand, there’s a requirement to carry out BSE/TSE tests on all fallen cattle over forty-eight months. That’s mad cow disease to you. The rules are stringent on most matters.’
‘Do you get many infected animals?’
‘We’re not approved for over-forty-eight-month cattle sampling and testing. Too much hassle. It was mostly stillborn lambs. At least that’s what it would have said on the labels. But now we know different, of course. I’m still finding this hard to believe.’
‘Getting back to how these human remains could have been added to the load,’ said Winsome. ‘Would it have been possible for someone to add them to Mr Ross’s van, say while he was having his lunch?’
‘Officially, there’s supposed to be someone with the van at all times.’
‘Only officially?’
‘Caleb usually took his own lunch, just a sandwich and a flask of tea, but he liked his giant Yorkshire puddings. He might have stopped off in Swainshead for a quick bite at the White Rose, if the disinfectant or dead animal smell didn’t clear out the whole pub. It depends on the kind of day he’d been having. But he wouldn’t have had anything to drink. He was strictly TT, was Caleb.’
A tox screen on what was left of Caleb Ross would soon determine whether he had enjoyed a jar or two with his giant Yorkshire. ‘It sounds as if there’s a great deal of laxity with the “official” requirements around here,’ Winsome said.
Vaughn seemed unconcerned by the criticism. ‘It’s not much different from any other business in that respect, I should imagine. We accept that biosecurity is essential. We also have some very strict controls on the incinerator. But if you obeyed all the rules handed down by the EU, Trading Standards and Health and Safety to the letter you’d hardly be able to breathe, let alone run a profitable business.’
‘So it could have happened that way? Someone could have added the body parts to his load while he was having his lunch?’
‘It’s possible. If they could gain access to the van. But if his paperwork was in order, it could also easily have happened anywhere on the route. Even if we were obeying all the rules.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that Caleb wouldn’t open any of the bags to check their contents, and they’d go straight into the incinerator here when he got back. Nobody would want to open… well, you can imagine. The idea is to dispose of fallen stock as quickly as is reasonably possible and, as I said, we don’t do any testing here. If the farmer wrote down “two dead lambs”, then Caleb would assume that was what was in the bags and the commercial document would bear this out. He’s not going to open them and make sure that’s what in.’
‘Assuming they were already bagged.’
‘Yes, of course. That is usually the case.’
‘And that’s also assuming that one of the farmers Caleb visited must have known what was in the packages and passed them off as fallen stock?’ Gerry added.
‘Yes. Highly unlikely, wouldn’t you think? They’re all regular customers. All above board.’
Winsome didn’t necessarily agree, but she nodded as she watched Gerry scribbling away. In fact, it seemed to her that the whole business was lax, and that it would have been unbelievably easy for someone to have slipped Morgan Spencer’s body parts in with the load. ‘Someone could have made an exchange at one of the farms, if the fallen stock had already been bagged and listed. Swapped a couple of bags and labels. Then no one would have been the wiser, would they?’
‘I suppose not,’ said Vaughn. ‘I really don’t know. It’s not something I’ve thought much about. It’s not something that happens every day.’
‘How do you know?’ Gerry asked.
Vaughn looked at her, open-mouthed. ‘Well… I… I mean…’
‘If you incinerate the bags without checking what’s in them when they’ve been listed on the paperwork, it could have happened any number of times.’
‘Yes, strictly speaking. But you’re splitting hairs.’
Winsome thought so too. They were hardly trying to make out that Vaughn was running a murder victim disposal service. One body was enough. She gave Gerry a curious glance and picked up the threads again. ‘I suppose it would make more sense if someone sneaked the body parts into Caleb’s load while he wasn’t looking. Most of the drivers are worried about theft, but we have the opposite here.’
‘You have a list of all the farms Caleb visited on his rounds before the accident. That’s about all I can help you with. It’s possible that someone invited him in for a cup of tea, and he left his load unguarded for a short while. None of us is perfect. If you can find out where he had lunch – if he did – you might get lucky there.’
Winsome smiled. Nice of the public to tell them how to do their jobs, she thought, but she thanked him anyway. ‘If the other possibilities sound remote, is it likely that Caleb Ross loaded the body parts himself?’
‘Caleb? You’re suggesting that Caleb had something to do with this?’
‘Well, he was driving a van containing several plastic bags of human remains.’
‘But like you said before, someone must have added those while he was away from the van, or at one of the farms. It’s ridiculous to think Caleb—’
‘Is it?’ Winsome asked. ‘Is it, really? Mr Vaughn, we think this murder is linked with a spate of rural crime in the area, involving not only livestock but expensive farm equipment. The latest victim was John Beddoes, who had a valuable tractor stolen over the weekend.’
‘Yes, I heard about that.’
‘Do you know Mr Beddoes? Was he a client?’