A Stone's Throw

3

3

Nathan was halfway through the best cottage pie he had ever tasted when someone stopped at his table, casting a shadow over his meal. He looked up and found that the owner of the shadow was a young man of about twenty.

“Mr Stone?”

Nathan nodded. “That’s right, I’m Nathan Stone,” he said after swallowing the mouthful he was chewing on. “How can I help you?”

“Actually, I’m here to help you, Jenny said you’re interested in the local wildlife. Floyd Mantle, mind if I join you?”

“Not at all, please do.” Nathan gestured to the seat across from him. “Thanks for sparing the time.”

Floyd grinned. “No problem, I’m always happy to talk about the local animals, it’s my favourite subject. And as Jenny probably told you, I know as much as anyone about them. So, what is it you’re interested in?”

“Wildcats,” Nathan said after taking a sip of his cider. “I think I saw one this afternoon.”

Floyd’s grin broadened. “Did you manage to get a picture?”

Nathan shook his head. “Not a decent one anyway. The best I could manage was a blurry image of moving colour that could be just about anything.”

“That’s about all most people seem able to manage. The cats are too quick for them, especially when they’re caught by surprise and not expecting to see something like that out there.” Floyd reached into the pocket of his shirt and took out a photograph. “Is this the creature you saw?” he asked, setting the photograph down next to Nathan’s plate.

Nathan chewed thoughtfully on a fresh mouthful of cottage pie while he examined the photo. “Yes,” he said finally. “That looks like the cat I saw, what is it? And how did you manage to get such a clear picture of it?”

Floyd put down the pint of lager he had been sipping at and accepted the photo back. “It’s an ocelot,” he told Nathan. “I haven’t been able to prove it yet, but I believe there’s a trio of them living in the woods on the edge of the moor, two males and a female. I don’t have a clue where they came from, they’re not native to the UK, never have been — ocelots are from South America. Mind you, nothing makes sense about these cats. Ocelots usually aren’t overly social, nor do they tackle large prey, but there have been several dead horses and deer found over the past six months that have clearly been the work of wildcats.

“As for the picture, it took me several lengthy sessions of waiting patiently in the same spot to get. I don’t mind telling you, I was ready to give up and forget all about it when this chap came strolling down to the stream I had staked out, casual as you like, for a drink. He was there for several minutes and then he disappeared back into the trees. I tried following but he was gone.”

“You say you don’t have a clue where these ocelots came from, what about theories?” Nathan felt compelled to ask. He was a curious person and couldn’t accept that these non-native creatures had just magically appeared in Devon. “You must have some thoughts about how these cats ended up here.”

Floyd shrugged. “Who can say. Personally, I think they’re from an illegal private collection; either they escaped or were released because the owner can’t maintain it any longer. It’s not something that’s talked about openly, but I know it wouldn’t be the first time that someone who owns an illegal collection of animals just let them go, either because they couldn’t afford to run it anymore or because they were close to being caught. Most such animals die pretty quickly because they’re not equipped to survive in the wild, even when the wild is as benign as it is here in the UK, but some manage to survive alright for a while.”

It saddened Nathan to think that people would traffic in such animals, just to cage them for their own pleasure, and would then release them without a concern for whether they could survive when they no longer wanted them.

“Is anything being done to help the cats?” he asked.

Floyd looked bemused. “Like what? Right now, there’s no need to do anything to help them, they’re managing to look after themselves okay. Sure, they’ve killed the occasional horse or deer, but it’s all been wild animals they’ve killed, and mostly rabbits and squirrels and other small things. So long as they’re not attacking people or owned animals, there’s no reason to do anything other than leave them alone.

“A few people around here, those that believe the cats exist, which isn’t everyone, have suggested that something should be done about them — they either want them hunted down and killed, or they want them caught and put in a zoo or something. Nobody takes such suggestions seriously, though, and I doubt they will so long as most people aren’t even willing to admit that the cats are really out there.”

“Is there anywhere in particular that gives the best chance of seeing the cats? Are you more likely to see them on the moor or in the woods around the river?” Nathan asked.

“Why do you want to know where you can find them?” Floyd wanted to know, suspicion and concern in his voice, which Nathan couldn’t blame him for.

“I’d like to see the cat again,” Nathan told him honestly.

Floyd relaxed a little after studying the man across the table from him for a short while. “I hope you appreciate that these are dangerous animals. Under normal circumstances they’re more likely to run away than attack, but if they’re cornered or they feel threatened, or they’re disturbed while feeding or mating, they will do some serious, perhaps even fatal, damage.

“Ocelots might not be as big as tigers or lions, but they can still be dangerous, especially if there’s more than one.”

“Don’t worry, I have no intention of disturbing them. I just want to see the cat again, all three if I could, and maybe get a picture that actually shows what I’m looking at, so when I tell my friends I saw an ocelot, I’ll have proof. Not only that but one of my friends runs a news and information website, I think she’d be interested in these ocelots, especially if she had an account from someone who saw them first-hand. Better yet, an account from someone like you, who knows about them. Would you be interested in speaking to her?” The website Louisa ran focused mostly on news and crime stories, but she was always looking for interesting or unusual stories to post, anything that might draw attention to her site.

“Sure. I’d be happy to speak to your friend about the ocelots,” Floyd said with unbridled enthusiasm. “Obviously, I can’t tell her anything about where the cats come from, but I’ll tell her what I do know, both about ocelots in general and about the ones we have here in particular.”

“That’s okay, knowing Louisa, she’ll make up a story about where they come from that will be better than whatever the truth is, either that or she’ll leave it as a mystery. The readers of her site love a mystery, and the appearance of three ocelots on Dartmoor is definitely one. She’ll get people interested enough to read whatever you do know about them, especially if you’re able to provide good quality pictures to go with the story.” Nathan knew people would be interested in the story because he was.

Why the story of three ocelots should interest him so much, he couldn’t have said. He liked nature and animals as much as the next person, but it wasn’t like him to go out of his way to interact with it. The only answer he could come up with was his love of mysteries and the unknown, the love that had led to him joining the police force and then becoming a detective. In the absence of any other mystery to puzzle out the solution to, how three wildcats came to be on Dartmoor was all he had.

His wife had always said that he was happiest when his brain was occupied by an enigma.

“I’ve got four good, clear photographs, including this one.” Floyd tapped the pocket that again held the picture he had shown to Nathan. “And about half a dozen others where you can make out the subject is an animal, but not what sort of animal it is. Have you got anything planned for the rest of the evening?”

The question caught Nathan by surprise. “I’ve got a phone call to make, but other than that my evening’s free, why?”

“If you’re really interested in seeing the cats, I can take you to where you’re most likely to see them.”