‘No? It looks very much like it from where I’m standing. You appear at the home of the Lukasz family, and you pop up here, checking on people I want to talk to.’
‘I have no intention of interfering.’
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‘I presume your superiors have given you instructions to keep an eye on me, in case I cause trouble.’
‘Nothing like that.’
‘But you visited the Lukasz family. I suppose you talked to the old man, Zygmunt. And I suppose it was you who warned M them not to speak to me.’
‘Why should I do that?’
‘You’ve had your instructions, I expect. I was disappointed that the police wouldn’t give me any help. But I never expected that they would set out to actively hinder me.’
JJ
Embarrassed, Cooper tried to edge towards his car, which was parked on the steepest part of the street. But Morrissey moved with him.
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‘Well, let me tell you something, Detective Cooper/ she said. ‘Your attempts to obstruct me will only make me more determined to find out the truth. I guess I’m just that sort of person. I’ve always been pretty awkward — I tend to go the opposite direction to the one I’m being pushed in.’
‘I wasn’t able to speak to Zygmunt Lukasz,’ said Cooper.
‘Oh, no?’
‘No.’
She hesitated, as if not sure whether to believe him. ‘You had a long chat with his family, though, I bet.’
‘I had to sec them about a few other things.’
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But even as Cooper said it, he knew it sounded weak and unconvincing. Morrissey gazed at him with something like contempt.
‘I don’t know why you bother to lie to me about it. Not when you were at Mr Rowland’s house as well. Are you going to tell me that you had to go and see him about a few other things too? That really would be a coincidence, wouldn’t it?’
‘There doesn’t seem to be much point in me telling you anything, Miss Morrissey. I can sec you’re not going to believe me.’
Cooper had almost reached his car, but Morrissey moved too quickly. She was light on her feet, and she managed to get in front of him. She stood close to him — too close for Cooper s comfort.
‘I have no reason to believe you,’ she said. ‘But I want you to know that, whatever you do, you won’t make me give up. I’m in no hurry to go back to Toronto. No hurry at all. I’ll stay right here in Derbyshire for as long as it takes. I’ll keep trying until I wear down Zygmunt Lukasz and Walter Rowland. And I wi// wear them down in the end. I’ll certainly wear jou down.’
Cooper began to button up his coat. This wasn’t what he wanted to hear, not from Alison Morrissey. He had enough to cope with from Diane Fry. Fry was good at wearing him down, too.
‘I’ve spent enough time here. I’ve got other things to be doing,’ he said.
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‘Of course you have,’ said Morrissey. ‘You’re short of resources, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, we are. That’s why the boss told you we couldn’t help. To be honest, 1 think he’ll already have forgotten about you by now. He has other things to worry about. You’re not important to him.’
‘Well, thanks.’ She looked at him searchinglv. Then the dismissive comment finally seemed to make her accept that he might be telling the truth. ‘So what then?’
‘Sorry?’
‘So why do you keep popping up asking questions wherever I go?’
Cooper didn’t know how to answer her. He wasn’t sure of the reason himself. Maybe it was something to do with his fascination tor family ties, the sense of loyalty that drove people’s lives. He sensed in himself a need to understand it when he saw it in others. He saw it in the Lukasz familv, certainly. And he saw it in Alison Morrissey, too.
Morrissev was still watching him. ‘You’re a strange cop, aren’t you? I can’t make you out.’
Cooper inclined his head, accepting the judgment. ‘You’ve nothing to worry about from me,’ he said.
‘Walter Rowland has talked to you, hasn’t he?’ she said.
‘Yes.’
‘These people will talk to you when they won’t give me the time of day. They see me as a threat. But not you. There’s something strange about that. Why isn’t a cop a threat?’
Cooper only shrugged.
‘What did he tell you?’
‘Who?’
‘Rowland, of course. What did he say to you?’
‘You don’t know what 1 was asking him about.’
‘No, but it’s a pretty safe bet it was something to do with the crash.’
‘Not directly.’
Morrissey fixed him with her grey eyes. ‘You could help me,’ she said.
‘Could I?’
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‘I mean, if you’re not here to hinder me, like you say, then there’s no reason why you shouldn’t help me. These people won’t talk to me, but they’ll talk to you. You could get them to tell the truth.’
‘My Chief Superintendent has already told you, Miss Morrissey —’
‘Yeah, yeah. No resources to spare. His officers don’t have the time, blah, blah. But you’re already putting in the time here. For what reason, I don’t know. But if you’re already putting in the time with Lukasz, and with Rowland, then I’m not using up your Superintendent’s precious resources, am I?’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t help you.’
‘Your boss said he n-ou/Jhclp me, if he could,’ said Morrissey.
‘No. I’m sorry. You’ll get me into trouble.’
‘And I wouldn’t want that, would I?’ she said.
Cooper felt he ought to get in the car and drive away, but something kept him. He knew she hadn’t quite finished what she wanted to say. After a second, she took a small step closer and put her hand on his arm.
‘At least give me a chance to tell you why it’s so important to me/ she said.
Cooper hesitated. He wanted to say ‘yes’. He wanted to hear her explain it, to know what was driving her, to share her passion for finding the truth. Instead, he finished pulling on his gloves.
‘I don’t have the rime,’ he said.
Diane Fry and Gain Murfin drove into the Buttercross area and parked in front of one of the antique shops. A vanload of uniforms as due to meet them at Eddie Kemp’s house, which they would be going over hoping for some sign of Baby Chloe.
Fry had chosen to stop by Decker and Miller Purveyor of Antiques and Collectibles. From here, she could see Ben Cooper’s red Toyota halfway up a steep, cobbled street, which was still covered in a sheet of compacted snow. Her Peugeot would never make it up there. It had never occurred to her when she bought it that she might have need of a four-wheel drive.
And there was Ben Cooper himself, standing at the top of the street in his thick-soled boots and ridiculous poacher’s coat. He vas talking to a woman Fry didn’t recognize. She was wearing a
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reel jacket and black jeans, and her dark hair was pushed behind her ears. Fry could tell by Cooper’s posture and manner that the woman was nothing If) do with the enquiry he was supposed to be on. She could see his ears glowing pink even from here. The-woman was probably some old flame he had bumped into at least, that was the most charitable assumption. If he had arranged to meet her when he was supposed to be on duty, he d crucify him. lie was wasting enough time as it was.
Fry slammed her door and set oil up the street. But the shoes she was wearing weren’t made for walking on frozen snow. She felt herself slithering as soon as she set foot on the slope, and she had to hang on to the iron rail fixed to the wall to pull herself up. She was concentrating so hard on keeping her teet
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that, when she looked up again, the woman had gone. Cooper was standing in front of his car, waiting tor her to reach him.
‘Who was that you were talking to?’ she said.
‘Nobody in particular.’
‘Well, you’ve no right t
o be talking to nobody in particular, Ben. Damn it, you’re supposed to be interviewing potential witnesses.’
‘Yes, I’ve clone that.’
‘And? What did they say?’
‘“We don’t know nothing, and if we did, we wouldn’t tell you.” If you want the expletives, they’ll be in my report.’
Fry took her hand away from the rail to make a gesture at him, but she didn’t quite complete it. The movement shifted her balance and she felt herself beginning to slip backwards. She grabbed at the nearest object, which happened to be the wing mirror of Cooper’s Toyota. It folded in towards the car, but was enough to save her from plummeting headlong down the slope into the road. Cooper stepped forward as if to help her, but she glowered at him, and he dropped his hand.
‘You need to get yourself some shoes with a bit of grip in the soles,’ he said. ‘If you’re not careful, vou’ll be joining the bad back and twisted ankle brigade. We can’t have that. How would we cope?’
Fry bit her lip. ‘Ben, if by any chance you’ve finished chatting
J1 j j’ J O
up every passing female, perhaps you could shift your snow shoes
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and your four-wheel drive and get yourself up to Kemp’s house. Then I’ve ^ot another job.’
Fry tried to turn, slipped, and had to cling on to Cooper’s car even harder. She stared at the uneven slope ahead of her, which ran down towards the antiques shop and her own car parked on the road below. She felt as though she were facing a two-thousand foot ski slope without any skis.
‘Maybe you should just hang on to the car,’ said Cooper, ‘and I’ll tow you down.’
Vicky Kemp looked like a woman who was never surprised to see the police on her doorstep. She greeted the sight of the detectives’ IDs and the uniforms behind them with a weary gesture of her hand across her face, followed by an invitation to stand in her hallway so that she could shut the door and keep out the cold.
‘He’s not here, of course,’ she said.
‘Your husband?’ said Diane Fry.
‘I haven’t seen Eddie since yesterday morning.’
‘Where has he gone?’
‘All he said was that he was getting out of the way for a bit. He said you lot would be coming back to make trouble for him
yo
again. He was right, wasn’t he?’
‘We’re not the ones causing trouble, Mrs Kemp,’ said Fry.
‘What? You’ve taken his car away. How is he supposed to keep his business going? How is he supposed to earn a living for us? It’s bad enough as it is. He has me stuffing envelopes all day tor one of those home-working things. I hate it. But there
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wouldn’t be much housekeeping if J didn’t do it.’
‘Do you have a family?’
‘One boy, Lee. He’s twelve years old.’
‘He’ll be at school, then.’
‘Probably.’
Fry raised an eyebrow. ‘You might have heard that we’re looking for a missing baby,’ she said.
‘It was on the local news last ni^ht,’ said Mrs Kemp. ‘Baby Chloe. Only a few weeks old, isn’t she? Poor thing. You never know what’s going to happen to your kids these days.’
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‘Do you have any idea of the whereabouts of that baby?’ said Cooper.
‘Me? Why should 1?’
‘The name of Chloc’s mother is Marie Tenncnt. We understand that your husband lived with her for a while.
‘Oh.’ Mrs Kemp’s eyes flickered from side to side uncertainly, as if she weren’t quite sure how she was supposed to react. ‘It’s her, is it? I thought it might be. It’s a bit of an unusual name for round here.’
‘You know about your husband’s affair with Miss Tcnnent?’
‘We went through a bad patch about eighteen months ago and Eddie left me for a bit. I know it was her he lived with. People aren’t slow to tell you things like that in this town. But he came back to me, and we’ve been back together for nearly six months. He knew it was best for Lee if he came back. Eddie is very fond of his lad. So it’s all sorted out now.’
‘Nearly six months?’
‘Last July.’
Fry and Cooper both watched Mrs Kemp. She stared at them curiously, until a slow realization came over her face. ‘You reckon that Eddie is the baby’s father? Is that what you mean?’
‘It seems a possibility,’ said Cooper.
‘The bastard,’ she said. ‘He never told me anything like that.’
‘Has he never mentioned a baby? Have you seen no signs of a baby?’
‘Not here,’ said Mrs Kemp. ‘He never brought it here. Eddie? Why would he?’
‘If the child was his …’
‘Not here,’ said Mrs Kemp firmly. ‘I’d soon have shown him the door again. Believe me on that.’
‘We’re going to have to take a look in the house/
‘I suppose so.’
‘And arc you sure you’ve no idea where your husband has gone?’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Is there anywhere you might expect him to go? To a friend’s? A relative’s?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said.
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‘And who did he go with?’
‘It would be one of his friends,’ she said, ‘lie went down to the pub to meet them. The Vine, that’s where they all go. Kill not telling you any more.’
‘He’s in breach of hail, Mrs Kemp. Are you sure you can’t give us the names of any of his friends?’
Mrs Kemp paused, maybe picturing Marie Tcnnent and the missing Baby Chloe. I’ll think about it,’ she said.
Within a few minutes, Dianc Fry began to get restless as she watched the uniformed officers examining the Kemps’ house and garden. Vicky Kemp showed no interest in the proceedings, except to follow round straightening cushions and rubbing invisible fingerprints off cupboard doors. Fry gestured Hen Cooper outside the house, while she phoned in and reported Kddic Kemp’s breach of bail conditions. He was supposed to reside at his home address so that they could find him easily when they wanted him. Now, he would be arrested again when he was found.
‘Ren,’ she said. ‘Do you know of an aircraft museum at a place called Leadenhall?’
Cooper was startled. ‘Where did you say?’
‘Leadenhall.’
‘Leadenhall?’ he said.
‘Are you going deaf or something? Has the snow got in your ears? Apparently, there was an old RAF station in Nottinghamshire called Leadenhall, but now it’s an aircraft museum.’
‘I only heard of it for the first time recently,’ said Cooper. ‘Not the museum, but the airfield.’
‘Oh? Heard of it in connection with what?’
‘It was where Sugar Uncle Victor was based. The aircraft flown by Pilot Officer Danny McTeague and his crew.’
‘Ah. You’re talking about Miss Alison Morrissey again,’ said Fry.
7)
Yes.
‘I can’t believe this. Why docs everything seem to come hack to that in your mind?’
195
‘I can’t help it. You asked me about Leadenhall, and that’s where I heard of it, from Alison Morrissev and her journalist friend, Frank Baine. McTeague’s Lancaster bomber was flying from Leadenhall to an airfield in Lancashire when it crashed on Irontongue Hill.’
‘Ben, I’m working on a line of enquiry which relates to an aircraft museum. I’m talking about here and now, not something that happened half a century ago. You’re obsessed with the past.’
‘Surely that’s what a museum is all about — the past? Anyway, don’t forget the baby. The fact it was found at the crash site makes a connection worth considering, doesn’t it?’
She sighed. ‘All right. Where is this Leadenhall place? I expect you’ve located it precisely, with your usual attention to detail when something interests you. You can probably give me the exact map co-ordinates and the course directions your World War Two pilot was sup
posed to be following.’
‘It’s near Newark, in the Trent Valley area of Nottinghamshire.’
‘Think you can find it?’
‘Of course. Why?’
‘That’s where we’re going this afternoon.’
‘What about Eddie Kemp and the baby?’
‘Gavin and the search team can cope here. It’s obvious they’re not going to find Baby Chloe being cared for by Vicky Kemp. Her darling husband will be picked up somewhere in due course. You know there’s no point in us chasing our backsides over that.’
‘I suppose not. But Leadenhall …’
Fry waved his protests aside. She wasn’t going to be put off her chance to go somewhere and do something at last.
‘We’re going to follow the footsteps of the Snowman,’ she said.
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18
1 he Leadcnhall Aircraft Museum opened on some days during the winter months, but it was obvious that hardly any visitors came. Diane Fry and Ben Cooper found the gates open and a few volunteers taking the opportunity of the lull to carry out restoration and maintenance work on their aircraft.
The main hangar was gloomy and cavernous. Inside, a Spitfire had been roped off and the armour plating round its nose had been dismantled. A man in blue overalls was doing something with a wrench deep inside the engine. The clink of metal against
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metal echoed in the hangar like a pebble rattling at the bottom of a deep well.
A twin-engined Vickers Wellington seemed to be the central exhibit. Cooper edged towards the information board under its nose. This wartime bomber had been recovered from a remote Norwegian fjord where it had crashed in 1941 after bein^ damaged by a German fighter. Its canvas fuselage had been torn away in large sections, exposing a metal grid-like structure underneath and ottering glimpses of the flight cabin and the navigator’s table. The aircraft’s upper surfaces were painted a camouflage green, but underneath it was black, where it would be seen only against the sky.
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