The kill call bcadf-9

by Stephen Booth

  ‘Mrs Lacey,’ said Hitchens, ‘can you give us any other information that might help us to find your father? No matter how insignificant a detail, it could prove useful.’

  Lacey shook her head. ‘I don’t think there’s anything I haven’t told you.’

  Fry felt her eyebrows rise at that. She didn’t believe it for a moment.

  ‘If you could try to think back to when you last spoke to him,’ she said. ‘Didn’t he say anything about where he was going, what he was planning to do?’

  ‘No. Well, I knew that he was coming up to Derbyshire, so he would have been visiting that woman. That’s why he didn’t mention it.’

  ‘Because he knew you would have disapproved?’

  ‘I think I have the right to.’

  Hitchens leaned across his desk. ‘Mrs Lacey, we have to ask you these questions. Was your father his normal self? Or did he appear depressed, or worried about anything?’

  ‘Not when he left home, no,’ said Lacey. ‘When I spoke to him on the phone on Wednesday, he was upset about Patrick Rawson’s death, obviously. But I think there was also an element of relief, though he would never have said so. I knew him so well that I could practically read his thoughts. I think Dad was already starting to work out in his mind what Patrick’s death would mean from a business point of view. He was beginning to think about the paperwork, make calls to lawyers, all that sort of thing.’

  ‘He was planning ahead, then?’

  ‘Definitely. He’s that sort of man. Conscientious, methodical, always thinking about his work. He was almost itching to get his teeth into the business formalities.’

  Hitchens glanced at Fry. People who were busy planning ahead rarely committed suicide, as they both knew.

  ‘And one final question, Mrs Lacey: Is there anyone you can think of who might have wished your father harm?’

  Lacey shook her head again. ‘No. Except — ’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, I thank God that Dad never changed his will in favour of the Outram woman. For a gold digger, that would have been a big temptation put in her way, wouldn’t it?’

  Before Cooper could explore the Royal Observer Corps any further, Fry came back into the CID room with a disgusted look on her face. That didn’t bode well. He’d seen that look too often, and it had usually ended badly. These days, though, it didn’t seem to matter quite so much. He could survive whatever Fry threw at him.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ said Murfin, looking up and noticing the same thing. ‘What’s wrong now, I wonder?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You could ask her, if you’re feeling suicidal.’

  Cooper got up to follow Fry to her desk.

  ‘Ben?’ said Murfin, in horror. ‘I didn’t think you really were that tired of life.’

  ‘So,’ said Cooper, when he faced Fry, ‘what’s the next move?’

  She raised an eyebrow, then looked uncertain when it seemed to have no effect on him.

  ‘Back to square one,’ she said. ‘Back to Longstone Moor, and the two people on horseback caught on the hunt saboteurs’ camera. Back to the hunt themselves.’

  ‘You can’t still be obsessed with the hunt, Diane?’

  ‘I am not — ’ began Fry. Then she seemed to calm herself. ‘I’m not obsessed with the hunt. But we’re going to start again from first base, we’re going to identify the people Patrick Rawson met. Those riders were either members of the hunt, or they were seen by them.’

  ‘You’re sure of that?’

  ‘Ben, as far as I’m concerned, the hunt is all about violence. Even if the violent instincts are dressed up in red coats and following an artificial scent, it’s still about violence. Basic principle.’

  ‘There must be some way I can change your mind.’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  Cooper realized it was probably true that her mind wouldn’t be changed. But it was no reason for him to stop trying.

  ‘What about Michael Clay?’ he said.

  ‘Well, now that we know his family is local, it puts a different complexion on his possible involvement.’

  ‘Just because he was born in Birchlow?’

  ‘He must know people in the area,’ said Fry. ‘People must know him. I don’t have to tell you how it works, Ben.’

  ‘He would have been a young man when his family moved away to Birmingham.’

  ‘It makes no difference. His roots are here.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’

  ‘I am right,’ said Fry.

  Cooper knew she was right, but it was interesting to hear her argue the significance of someone’s roots. Fry had always seemed to him to be a totally rootless person. She’d been taken away from her parents when she was very young, moved from foster home to foster home, separated from her sister, then finally washed up here in the Peak District, a hundred miles from anywhere that she knew.

  ‘Some connections might emerge from the family history,’ he said. ‘Did you happen to ask Pauline Outram about the jewellery box?’

  ‘Yes. She said it was her mother’s. The only thing Pauline inherited from her.’

  ‘And her uncle’s briefcase?’

  ‘She has no idea.’

  ‘So how do you fit the Eden Valley Hunt into this picture?’ asked Cooper.

  ‘Patrick Rawson was staying at the Birch Hall Country Hotel, and had arranged to meet someone near Birchlow. During that encounter, he was killed, and the hunt were right in the middle of it. Given Michael Clay’s origins in Birchlow, you can’t tell me that’s a coincidence.’

  ‘No. So, what? Some kind of old family feud that Rawson stumbled into by accident? Could Clay have been the real target?’

  ‘That,’ said Fry, ‘is what we should be trying to find out.’

  Hesitantly, Cooper continued to hang around Fry’s desk until there was no one within earshot. After a moment, Fry looked up at him again. She seemed uneasy, probably because she wasn’t sure what Cooper wanted, or what he was going to say. Silence unsettled her, he’d noticed.

  But Fry had no reason to be uneasy. As soon as he’d seen her enter the room, Cooper had been overwhelmed by an impression that she was going through a difficult time. She’d looked so alone and vulnerable.

  ‘Was there something else you wanted to say, Ben?’ she asked.

  Cooper took a deep breath. ‘Just that… I’m concerned about you, Diane. I know it’s difficult going through a stressful time without any support…’

  She stared at him. ‘Is that it? Is that what you felt you had to say?’

  ‘You can feel very isolated. If it were me, I’d be glad of all the support I could get.’

  Fry was lost for words for a few moments. ‘Support? From you? What kind of support do you think you can give me?’

  Cooper was deterred only for a second. He glanced around the room, made sure there was no one near, moved in front of Fry as she seemed to be about to get up and walk away. There were times for walking away, and this wasn’t one of them.

  ‘Just talk to me, Diane.’

  ‘Talk to you?’ she said. ‘Ben, we’re different people, you and me. You have support from your family, you’ve been surrounded by it all your life. I’m sure that’s lovely and warm and fuzzy, and all that. But some of us have grown up without the need for support. We’re strong enough to look after ourselves. So your concern isn’t necessary.’

  ‘You know, if we’re going to get a forced shake-up in this department, we should stick together.’

  ‘Are you the shop steward all of a sudden, Ben? I didn’t even know we’d got a trade union.’

  ‘I’m not suggesting we work to rule or anything. Just — you know, support each other.’

  Fry hissed, a sound low enough that no one else in the office would hear it, but piercing enough for Cooper to get the message loud and clear.

  ‘Ben, I don’t need your support, OK? I’ll be just fine. Go and give your support to someone else.’

  ‘Think you’ll get s
upport from Superintendent Branagh? It would be like Dracula becoming a vegetarian.’

  Fry stood up and began to stack the files back together.

  ‘I’ll do that, if you like,’ said Cooper.

  ‘I can do it myself.’

  She grabbed her phone off the desk, flicking it open as if to check whether she had any messages, though they both knew it would have rung if she had. He was perfectly familiar with her ring tone. No downloaded pop tunes for Fry, just a few unobtrusive electronic notes like something from the opening of The X Files. Nothing to upset a bereaved relative.

  In fact, a strange silence had descended on the CID room. Cooper turned, and saw Detective Superintendent Branagh standing in the doorway. She said nothing, but looked at Fry and raised one eyebrow.

  ‘Coming, ma’am,’ said Fry.

  She went almost eagerly, and Cooper began to wonder whether he was completely wrong, and everyone else was wrong too, about Fry going through a bad time. Maybe it was something else entirely. Perhaps it was quite the opposite.

  Before they left, Cooper looked at Superintendent Branagh again. Who would want to hitch their wagon to that kind of horse?

  29

  ‘So,’ said Branagh when Fry had settled in a chair in her office. ‘DS Fry, do you think you have the full support of your team?’

  Fry felt herself grow tense. She’d tried to prepare herself before she came into the superintendent’s office, but this wasn’t the question she’d been expecting. Branagh might look like a bruiser, but this was surely fighting dirty.

  ‘Has someone said — ’

  Branagh shook her head. ‘Whatever discussions might have gone on with other members of staff, they’re confidential. Just as our discussion is this afternoon.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘DS Fry, I know you came here after a distressing incident in Birmingham, when you were with the West Midlands force.’

  Fry swallowed. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘The management team here were impressed with you. Hence the quick promotion. But since then…’

  ‘I’ve worked very hard for this division,’ said Fry. ‘I hope my work has been appreciated.’

  ‘Indeed. But to go back a few steps… After the incident, you began the standard counselling process. But there’s a note here that you abandoned the counselling sessions before they were complete. A personal matter.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Yet the earliest reports on you said that you were suffering no ill effects from the incident. Your supervisor even suggested that the experience might have made you a stronger person. “Baptism of fire” was a phrase used. He described you as “solid as a rock”.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Of course, that report was written by a man,’ said Branagh.

  ‘I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t understand.’

  ‘My own view,’ said Branagh, ‘is that no one is strengthened by an experience like the one you went through.’

  And then the superintendent did something even worse. She leaned forward and smiled. A friendly, understanding smile that made Fry’s heart sink.

  ‘Diane, I do appreciate that it must have been very traumatic. Impossible just to put it behind you and forget all about it.’

  And suddenly it was first-name terms. Fry steeled herself. There was no doubt about it now. Something horrible was about to happen.

  Liz Petty phoned Cooper on his mobile in the office. He glanced around, but there was no one near enough to overhear.

  ‘How did it go with Diane Fry?’

  ‘Not good. In fact, she told me to keep my nose out of her business and stop trying to interfere in her life.’

  ‘She was a bit cool on the idea, then?’

  ‘You might say that.’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Liz doubtfully.

  Cooper wondered what that sound meant. ‘She doesn’t really have a private life, you know. She talks about work all the time.’

  ‘Does she really never talk about anything properly? Anything that matters?’

  ‘No. Well, not to me.’

  ‘What happened to that sister?’

  ‘Angie? She was here for a few months, then she disappeared again. Besides, Angie was always bad news.’

  ‘Diane must need to talk to someone, some time.’

  ‘Maybe it’s just me, then.’

  ‘Yes, Ben.’

  He sighed. ‘I really thought we were starting to get on a bit better, too. When she first transferred to E Division, I made an effort to be her friend. But something went wrong, and I’m not quite sure what. Now she only seems to see me as a threat.’

  ‘It’s all about control,’ said Petty.

  ‘Control?’

  ‘For some people, control is very important. More important than anything else. They’d rather give things up than feel they’ve let somebody else take control from them. It makes people very defensive.’

  ‘Well, it’s too much for me. How do I get myself into these situations?’

  ‘By being you, I guess, Ben.’

  ‘Who’d be me, then?’

  ‘You have to get her out of the office,’ said Liz. ‘She can’t relax while she’s at work. You can see it in her face, all the time. What does she do when she’s off duty?’

  ‘I don’t really know,’ admitted Cooper.

  He heard an exasperated sigh on the other end of the phone. ‘Why not? What do you talk about in the office, apart from the job?’

  ‘Well, it’s usually Gavin doing the talking,’ said Cooper. ‘So — football, telly, the problems with teenage children… Food.’

  ‘Does Diane never mention what she’s done the night before, or at the weekend?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I despair.’

  ‘It’s not my fault.’

  ‘You have to show an interest, Ben.’

  Cooper thought back to when Fry had first arrived in Edendale as the new girl. He’d done his best. One game of squash, which had gone OK — except that he’d won, which hadn’t pleased Fry. And one visit to the dojo, which had gone very badly indeed.

  Since Fry’s promotion, there had never been any question of them socializing. He’d always assumed that she didn’t want it, that she deliberately kept a distance between herself and the rest of the officers in CID. But what if there was a different reason?

  He could see it was true that she was having a hard time. If it had been him, if he was going through a really bad week at work, he would have taken a long walk on the moors, whatever the weather. There was nothing like a good blow to clear the mind and make you feel better. There wasn’t any point in suggesting it to Diane Fry, though. Or was there?

  ‘So what do I do?’ he asked.

  ‘I told you, Ben. Get her out of the office.’

  ‘I’d better go now. She’s back.’

  When Fry came out of her interview, she found herself looking at her colleagues differently. Who had said what to Superintendent Branagh? Where did the disloyalty come from?

  First, she eyed Gavin Murfin. Murfin grumbled, but would never stick his head above the parapet. DC Becky Hurst and DC Luke Irvine were young, they hadn’t been here too long, but they might be intimidated by Branagh into blurting out whatever she wanted them to say.

  Of course, it might have been another DS on the division. Rivalry wasn’t unknown in E Division, though she couldn’t think who she’d offended. Not recently, anyway.

  She looked further down the room. Cooper was the man who’d actually offered her his support, made quite a point of it, in fact. Had he been feeling guilty, trying to deflect suspicion? Or was he actually biding his time, waiting for her to slip up, looking for a chance to take the credit for himself? She knew he resented the fact that she’d gained promotion ahead of him. Maybe he’d never got over it, and had been seething ever since. Fry wondered if Cooper was really that devious. When he offered support to her face, was he stabbing her in the back at the same time?

  She drew in a
deep breath. A bit of extra oxygen could make the brain sharper, keep her alert. And she needed to be alert right now, more than ever. Fry had never felt so isolated. And she didn’t know where the threat might come from.

  Perhaps she was being left to handle this suspicious death on the assumption that she’d mess up and strike another black mark on her PDR. But responsibility didn’t work like that in the police service — she was supposed to be supervised by more senior officers, and if things went monumentally wrong, they would be expected to take a share of the blame. The best thing she could do would be to refer upwards as often as she could, ask advice, consult her DI on the most minor decision, make sure he was fully informed at every stage. And record it. That was important. Keep a log of every action, and who she’d discussed it with.

  But wait. Was that what they wanted her to do? Were they hoping that she would lose confidence, that she would prove herself incapable of taking responsibility, devoid of initiative, unable to take the smallest decision on her own? Hitchens couldn’t have planned that, it was too clever for him, too devious. But Branagh…

  On the other hand, she could just be getting paranoid. And, if she was, did that mean that they weren’t all out to get her?

  Fry sat at her desk, watching everyone else leave the office to go home, back to their families, off to meet their girlfriends, get drunk, or watch TV. They all sounded like alien activities that she was excluded from.

  What the hell was going on? Right now, her week couldn’t get any worse than it already was.

  When Fry finally got back to her flat in Grosvenor Road later that evening, her answering machine was blinking. When she pressed the ‘play’ button, there was the briefest of messages. And from that moment, things did get worse, after all.

  ‘Di — call me as soon as you can. It’s important.’

  The caller didn’t need to leave a name. It was Angie.

  There was no mistaking death when you saw it. Cooper had seen two dead bodies already this week, but it was so much worse when it was personal.

  The cat had curled up in his usual spot by the central heating boiler in the conservatory. He looked so relaxed and peaceful that he could have been asleep, at first glance. But the stillness was too unnatural, the lack of even the slightest stirring of the fur as he breathed.