Caught in the Web by Emmy Ellis (classic english novels .TXT) 📕

An odd sound clattered from the speakers, then the shadow man arrived from the right, which didn’t make a damn bit of sense seeing as the entry door to the room was on the left. Robin watched transfixed as the man went to Juliette’s enclosure, tried to get her out, then moved to Harry’s glass house. He picked Harry up with no problem at all and turned to the side to place him in what Robin thought might be some kind of fabric bag. Not good. Harry would hate that and become agitated.

“There. Good boy,” the man said. “It’s your turn under a different spotlight.”

He knelt and took a larger bag off his back, placed it on the floor, then lowered the smaller bag with Harry in it inside. Calm as you like, as though he had all the time in the world, he zipped it up, returned it to his back, then moved off to the right.

“We need to look at the right-hand wall, where the smaller spiders are,” Robin said.

Nathan paced. “This is insane. Some bloke has come in here and stolen a bloody arachnid. What. The. Fuck?”

“Seems that way. And I didn’t recognise his voice, did you?” Robin found the correct time then hit play.

“No. But then why would a zoo employee want to nick a tarantula? And we don’t know everyone who works here, anyway, so we wouldn’t necessarily recognise voices.”

“Shh. Here we go.”

Nathan came to stand behind him, and Robin stared at the bank of smaller spider cases, twelve in a row containing species from Australia and Northern America. Above and below them were posters and information for visitors, faint in the darkness, but during the day they were lit by overhead lights in brass casings.

Robin just made out a pair of feet appearing in the gloom at the top of the screen, in the centre.

Oh my God.

Then legs, a torso, and the shadow man dropped down to the floor with that weird clatter Robin had heard on the other file. From there, the intruder moved out of sight, making for the tarantula wall.

“He seems to know exactly where he’s going.” Hitting pause, Robin swivelled the desk chair around so he faced Nathan, who was pacing again.

“Mr Clarke is going to go mental,” Nathan said.

“I know, but it’s not like it’s our fault, is it? We’ve done everything we can for now. At least Harry isn’t loose—that’s one small mercy—but I’m worried about him. I mean, does that bloke want him for a pet or what? Will he look after him properly?”

“No idea. I’ll give Mr Clarke a ring. Then it’s just steeling ourselves for the inevitable shitstorm, I suppose.”

Robin rubbed a hand over his face then cradled his chin in the curve between finger and thumb. “I’m amazed someone could break into the zoo without any alarms going off, to be honest.”

“Yeah, well, that’s a job for the police to deal with.” Nathan picked up the phone from its dock on the desk and pushed the speed dial button for the direct extension to Mr Clarke’s mobile. “If he’s out having a rant with the elephants, there’s no point calling his office. Ah, hello, Mr Clarke? It’s Nathan from Amazing Arachnids. Um, we have a problem… Um…yeah, well… I don’t want to sound rude, but I think it’s more important than the elephants at the moment. Pardon? Oh. Yes. Right.” Nathan widened his eyes at Robin. “I appreciate that, sir, but someone’s been in here during the night and stolen Harry. We checked the camera footage, and he broke in. Came in from the roof by the looks of it. Okay. Yep. Right. Will do.”

Nathan replaced the phone in its dock and shook his head.

“Being his usual dickhead self, was he?” Robin asked.

“Of course he was. Didn’t want to know at first. Said I was wasting his valuable time.”

“Until you said what was wrong.”

“Yep. Now he’s crapping himself and coming over here.”

“Brilliant. Well, brace yourself for that shitstorm, then.” Robin leant his head back against the chair and closed his eyes for a second. “I knew I should have rung in sick this morning.”

Chapter One

Nine a.m., and Burgess stood at the mouth of the alley, cursing the bloody cold weather. Hands deep in his coat pockets, he contemplated the task ahead, his breath chundering out in staccato grey puffs. It wasn’t every morning he was called out to take a look at a body—dumped during the night, most likely—but it was something he wished he wasn’t doing. Still, the poor woman sprawled out naked a few yards ahead beneath a white forensics tent had been discovered by a rubbish collector about an hour ago. It wasn’t her fault the call had come in to Burgess.

I expect Shaw was called, too, and he ignored it like he’s ignored me. Fucker.

He sighed, not wanting to go inside the tent yet, thinking to wait for the on-scene pathologist to finish her assessment. Marla was a decent sort, lovely woman, single, so people thought, although he knew better. She was a good friend of his and told him some of her secrets. Like the fact she was shagging the DCI.

Large industrial floor-standing torches lit the scene. So early on a winter morning meant piss-poor visibility in a narrow alley like this, and with the storm clouds sluggishly drifting, it was darker than usual. Uneven rectangular cobblestones glittered with a thick frost except where footprints marred them and the heat from the torchlights had burned it away. Two wheelie bins stood against the right-hand wall next to the tent, black bags bulging out of one of them. A stack of cardboard crates with pictures of fruit on their sides looked about to topple over, undoubtedly put out by the grocer from the row of