Read Rough Justice for Free Online Page A

three-feet-by-eight cell.
    ‘How long have they been here?’ he asked the middle-aged woman who had escorted him into the block.
    She indicated the occupant of the first cell. ‘He’s been here two years,’ she said. The Alsatian-Labrador cross growled softly and wagged its tail. ‘He’s six years old and most people want a puppy.’
    ‘What do you think, Liam?’ asked Shepherd. ‘Do you see anything you like?’
    ‘I like them all, Dad,’ said Liam. He bent down and pushed his fingers between the bars. The dog licked them, its tail swishing from side to side like a metronome. ‘We can really have one? Really?’
    ‘I promised you, didn’t I? I said we’d get a dog after I’d finished the job I was on.’ The investigation into Alex Grimshaw and his gang of armed robbers had taken the best part of two months and for most of that time Shepherd had been in the West Country. He’d managed a few weekend trips back to Hereford but he knew he hadn’t been spending enough time with his son.
    He’d arrived back in Hereford just as Liam was waking up and had realised he hadn’t brought him a present. He’d been promising to let his son have a dog for months, so he’d offered to take him to the local RSPCA kennels. The dog was a bribe, Shepherd knew, to make up for him being such an absentee father, but it was clear from the look on Liam’s face that it was more than acceptable.
    ‘What happens to the ones you don’t find homes for?’ Shepherd asked the woman. She was dressed in a tweed suit and sensible shoes, and had her RSPCA identification hanging on a long chain around her neck. ‘Do you . . .’ He left the sentence unfinished.
    ‘Oh, these days it’s quite rare to put down a healthy dog,’ said the woman. ‘If a dog is very old or sick or has an impossible temperament then we might be forced to, but generally they just stay here until a home becomes available. The local paper is very good. Whenever we get close to capacity they run a story with photographs of our more appealing animals and that always gets results.’
    Liam had moved on to the next cage, where a small beagle wagged its tail and made a fuss of him. ‘Look, Dad, it’s Snoopy.’
    ‘She’s a pure beagle,’ said the woman. ‘That’s quite unusual for us – generally we get the Heinz 57 varieties. She’s probably from a good home and just got lost. But we’ve had her for two weeks and no one has claimed her so we’ve put her up for adoption. She’ll go quickly – pedigrees are always popular. You’d pay several hundred pounds to buy a dog like that from a breeder.’
    Liam scratched the animal behind an ear. ‘It’s so cute, Dad,’ he said.
    ‘Beagles need a lot of exercise,’ said Shepherd.
    ‘You have a house and garden?’ asked the woman.
    ‘Quite a large garden,’ said Shepherd. ‘And we live close to a lot of open space. Liam here has promised to walk the dog at least once a day.’
    ‘And you’re married, are you?’
    Shepherd frowned. ‘Why’s that important?’ he asked.
    ‘We don’t want the dogs left on their own for long periods,’ she said. ‘We need to know that there’s someone around for them.’
    ‘We have an au pair, and she’s home all the time,’ said Shepherd.
    ‘That’ll be fine,’ said the woman. ‘We’ll need to do a home visit, of course.’
    ‘A home visit?’
    ‘To check that it’s the sort of environment that’s suitable for a dog. A lot of our dogs have been mistreated and we need to know that their new home will give them the stability they need.’
    ‘It’s probably easier to adopt a child than a dog,’ said Shepherd.
    ‘Sadly, Mr Shepherd, that could well be true. But we do our bit by making sure that our dogs only go to good homes.’
    ‘Can we have this one, Dad?’ asked Liam. The beagle was scrabbling at the cage door, trying to get to him.
    ‘You remember the rules?’ asked Shepherd.
    Liam sighed theatrically. ‘Walk her at least twice a day,