Black dog bcadf-1

by Stephen Booth

  ‘I remain hopeful,’ said Tailby.

  Harrv Dickinson was wearing his black-framed bifocals, which

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  made his eyes look distorted and out of proportion, like smooth stones lying in deep water.

  ‘And I tell you what, lass. If you see that young copper again, you can tell him if his mates are going to try to blame the Sherratt boy, they’re wasting their time.’

  Helen Milner had done some shopping for her grandmother the night before at Somerfield’s in Edendale. Things were much cheaper there than in the little village shop. Normally Gwen would be willing to catch the Hulley’s bus from the stop near the pub for the journey into town for the sake of the money she would save from her pension. But this week she had refused to do the journey, worrying about what the other women would say to her on the bus, believing that the shop assistants would talk about her behind her back, that the checkout girls would refuse to serve her. Nothing Helen could say would persuade

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  her she was imagining things. At times, she could be just as stubborn as Harry.

  ‘He was the gardener at the Mount, but Graham Vernon sacked him,’ she said.

  ‘Lee Sherratt? He was never a gardener. He can hump a wheelbarrow, but he knows nothing.’

  ‘They say he had a fancy for Laura.’

  ‘That’s as maybe. It means nowt.’

  Helen slotted tins of peas and new potatoes into the kitchen cupboards, glancing sideways out of the window, where she could see Gwen pottering in the garden, carefully deadheading roses with a pair of secateurs. She looked frail and unsteady on her feet, her skin translucent in the morning light angling from above Win Low.

  ‘Have you talked to Grandma yet?’

  Harry was deep in his morning paper. Unlike many of the men his age, who preferred the sports coverage and sensational headlines of the tabloids, Harry took the Guardian. He said he liked to know what was really going on in the world. ‘All this

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  stuff about TV celebrities and royal hangers-on. That means nowt to me,’ he would say.

  ‘What should I talk to her about, then?’

  ‘She’s upset.’

  ‘When isn’t she? The woman’s got neurotic in her old age.’

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  ‘Granddad, she’s very worried. She thinks you’re in trouble with the police. You have to reassure her. She won’t listen to anyone else.’

  ‘Ah, they’re all talking about me, aren’t they?’ said Harry.

  ‘They’ll talk. But nobody believes you’re involved.’

  ‘Why not, then?’ he demanded.

  Helen waved her hand, stumped for an explanation when challenged. ‘Well ‘

  ‘Aye, I know. It’s because I’m old. You’re just like them coppers. They haven’t questioned me, you know. Not properly, not like they ought to have done, seeing as I found the body. They think I can’t have done it, you see. Because I’m old. Well, they’re wrong, and you’re wrong too.’

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  ‘Don’t be silly, Granddad. We know you didn’t do it, Obviously.’

  ‘Oh ave. Obviously.’

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  ‘Grandma knows. And Mum and Dad and me, we know that you’ve done nothing wrong. We would know — we’re your family.’

  ‘And that’s it? just the tew of you and no more?’

  Helen felt a chill at his dismissive tone. ‘Your family has always meant a lot to you. You know it has.’

  Harry sighed and folded his paper.

  ‘Well, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Of course it has, lass. But there are other things as strong as family. Stronger even. Women can’t see it, because they’re made different — family, that’s everything for them. But there

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  are other things. Friendship. When you’ve had a bloke at your back that you trust with your life, and he trusts you the same, that’s different. That’s a bond you can’t break, not for anybody. You get so as you would do anything not to betray that trust,

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  lass. Anything.’

  Harrv was looking Helen in the face, a look deep in his eye

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  that was almost appealing, asking for her help. And she did want to help him, but she didn’t know how to. She waited for Harry to explain what he meant.

  But he stared at the front page of the newspaper, where a picture of Central African refugees with desperate eyes stared back at him.

  ‘You’d kill to help that sort of friend,” he said.

  Ben Cooper sighted along the barrels, shifted his grip on the wooden stock and breathed in the scent of the gun oil as his fingers felt gently for the trigger. The shotgun fitted snugly into his shoulder, and the weight of the double barrels swung smoothly as he turned his body to test their balance. With that effortless movement came an eagerness to see the target in his sights, a desire for the kick and cough of the cartridge. He was ready.

  ‘Pull!’”

  The trap snapped and a clay flashed across his line of vision. As

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  if of th<“‘r own Accord, the barrels swung up and to the right to follow its trajectory, and his finger squeezed. The clay shattered into fragmcnts tnat curved towards the ground.

  ‘Pull!’

  The second clay flickered overhead. Cooper carefully increased the pressure on the trigger, timing the extra squeeze as the target’s line steadied and the clay shattered like the first.

  ‘What do you think of it, Ben?’

  ‘Nice,’ he said, lowering the shotgun and breaking it open. He laid the gun across the bonnet of the Land Rover, and his brother walked across from the trap gun they used for practising. Matt was six years older than Ben, with the barrel chest and well-muscled shoulders and torso of a working farmer. He had the same fine light-brown hair and chose to hide his receding hairline under a green tractor driver’s cap with a long peak like a baseball cap and the words ‘John Deere’ on the front.

  ‘Those were two good shots, Ben. Who were you picturing when you hit the clays?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘From the expression on your face, you had someone you really hate in your sights. Did it help to let it out?’

  ‘Yes, a bit.’

  Matt studied his younger brother. ‘It’s really getting you down, isn’t it? We don’t often see you like this. We will get Mum sorted out, you know. Wait till you see her this afternoon — I bet she’ll be more like her old self, and you’ll feel a whole lot better about it.’

  ‘Maybe, Matt. But it isn’t only that.’

  ‘Oh. Woman trouble, by any chance? Not Helen Milner, is it?’

  Cooper stared at his brother in amazement. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘It’s obvious you must have bumped into her on this Vernon case. I put two and two together when I read about it in the paper. Her dad works for Graham Vernon, doesn’t he? And the old man, Harry Dickinson — that would be her grandfather, right?

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  If you’ve been hanging around there, I guessed you must have renewed old acquaintances.’

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  Matt grinned as his brother looked at him, lost for words. ‘What do you reckon, then? Should I have been a detective?’

  ‘I don’t know how you worked all that out.’

  ‘Mmm. Helen Milncr, eh? I always thought she had a bit of a thing about you, little brother, a few years back.’

  ‘All water under the bridge. She’s different now. You should see her.’

  ‘Oh, but I have seen her. She’s a teacher at Amy and Josic’s school now. We talked to her at a parents’ evening not so long ago. I hate to give away my secrets, but that’s how I know about her dad and all that. We talked for quite a long while, actually. Some of it was about old times, some about the Vernons too.’

  ‘Well then. You know what she looks like. She’s probably got half a dozen blokes she’s sleeping with. Why should she bother with me?’

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��Do I detect a hint of bitterness? Is it a case of a heifer in heat and too many bulls to choose from?’

  ‘People aren’t like cattle, Matt.’

  ‘It’d be better if they were sometimes. Come to think of it, it’s a pity you can’t put raddle on people like you do on rams, then you’d know straightaway who was tupping who.’

  Matt looked at his brother expectantly, raising his eyebrows, but saw he hadn’t even raised a smile.

  ‘But there’s more still, isn’t there? Problems at work, is it?’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right. I’ve made a couple of bad cock-ups in the last few days.’

  ‘They’ll understand you’re under a lot of stress, though, won’t they?”

  Cooper fished the keys of the Toyota out of his pocket and looked at his watch. It was past the time he should have been setting off for Edendale to start his shift. But the chance to try Matt’s new shotgun had been too much of a temptation.

  ‘You’ve told your bosses about Mum, haven’t you?’

  ‘No, I didn’t think they needed to know.’

  ‘But you have got time off this morning to go to the hospital?’

  ‘I just told them I had a doctor’s appointment.’

  ‘Bloody hell. They probably think you’re going to see a

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  psychiatrist or something, the way you’ve been these last few days.’

  ‘I’d rather keep the police force out of Mum’s life, that’s all.’

  “I see. Things arc a bit bad, then.’

  Cooper sighed. ‘Let’s put it this way — I’d much rather stay here shooting rabbits with you, Matt, than go into the office this

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  Matt walked back with his brother to his car, parked in the crewyard. ‘I take it the Vernon case isn’t sorted out yet, then?’

  ‘It feels as though it’s running into the ground, Matt. We always dash round like mad at the beginning, of course. We collect masses of information, do dozens of witness interviews, house-to-house surveys and TIE enquiries, getting background detail. God, there’s so much in the computer after the first few days. Usually you get some clear lines of enquiry opening up that you can follow. But sometimes every one seems to be a blind alley and you get nowhere. Once a murder enquiry stalls, you can be looking at months and months before you get a result. If ever.’

  ‘And this is one of those, is it, Ben?’

  Cooper paused with his hand on the car door. ‘I don’t know, Matt. Maybe it’s just me. But don’t you ever get the feeling that you’ve been banging your head against a brick wall and didn’t realize it?’

  ‘It’s a tragedy about the young girl. There’s a bloke somewhere who shouldn’t be running round loose.’

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  ‘That’s what keeps us going, I suppose.”

  He got into the driver’s seat and lowered the windows. The interior of the car was already warm, though the morning had hardly begun.

  Matt rested a brawny forearm on the door. ‘Still, the Vernons are no example to anybody, are they?’

  ‘They’re not my idea of good company.’

  ‘More than that,’ said Matt. They create trouble for themselves, with what they get up to. Those orgies and things up there. I’m all for a bit of fun, but that’s just sick.’

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  Cooper looked at his brother, frowning, wondering what on earth he was talking about.

  ‘Oh, I sec. Well, if you don’t believe me,’ said Matt, ‘you just ask Helen Milner.’

  8v the lime Cooper reached the outskirts of Edendale, he knew he was going to be late for the second time in a week. Another black mark. But he found he didn’t really care. There was a dull pain throbbing at the front of his head, just behind his eyes, like the warning of an approaching thunderstorm.

  At eight o’clock in the morning it seemed as though every few yards along the road there was someone clutching a dog lead. Their pets were nose down in every clump of grass, stopping to examine every lamppost and tree. It would be a rash murderer who tried to hide a body in this neighbourhood. The search parties were out permanently.

  The first person he saw on the second floor of Divisional HQ was Diane Fry. She was heading for the briefing room with three other DCs. They were laughing at something, and Cooper began to flush immediately, not doubting that it was him they were laughing at. Fry, though, saw him corning and stopped to let him catch up.

  ‘You’re late again, Ben. You’ll be up on a charge if you’re not careful.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘Have a good trip to Yorkshire?’

  ‘Not particularly. I’d rather have been here.’

  ‘Waste of time, then?’

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact. There was no need for anyone to go, let alone two of us.’

  Cooper sneered before he could stop himself. ‘What a surprise. Still, I suppose you had a good time together.’

  Fry’s nostrils flared. ‘I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I’ll ignore it just this once.’

  He inclined his head, his shoulders slumping. ‘Sorry, Diane. I shouldn’t have said that.’

  ‘Are you all right, Ben? You’ve got some funny ideas, but you’ve managed to restrain yourself from the snide comments so far.’

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  ‘Yeah. I’m fine. It’s this endless heat, it’s wearing me out.’

  ‘Only I’ve been hearing something about some pigs …’

  ‘Yeah, veah, don’t tell me.’

  He saw Fry studying him. Her eyes travelled from his dull eyes to his hastily combed hair and down to his badly shaved cheeks, his crumpled shirt. lie was suddenly aware of the smell of stale sweat from his body, and the way his hand shook when he rubbed his temples where the pain was beginning to throb again.

  ‘Ben — what I said about your father. I did apologize. If there’s anything else I can say …’

  ‘I told you then — if one more person calls me Sergeant Cooper’s lad … Just let me forget it, can’t you?’

  Fry stood back, shocked by the venom in his voice. ‘Fine. Oh, and there’s a message for you. The superintendent wanted to see you straightaway, as soon as you got in.’

  ‘What about the briefing?’

  ‘Straightaway. That was the message. Trouble, is it?’

  ‘Bound to be.’

  ‘Hey, you haven’t forgotten our date tonight, have you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re taking me to your dojo. I’m looking forward to that challenge bout. You’re going to teach me a few things, remember?’

  The walls of the superintendent’s office were lined with photographs, some of them going back many years. The faces of stiff, upright men with high collars and large moustaches seem to glare at Ben Cooper, judging him. It was as if they were saying that he did not come up to their standards. That was certainly the message that Superintendent Jepson was trying to put across.

  ‘So basically, I’m saying it’s just not your turn this time, Cooper. Be patient, and your turn will come, I’m sure. Give it a bit more time, and we’ll look at things in a fresh light. There’s always hope in the future. Think about a bit of lateral development.’

  Jepson studied the DC for his reaction. Hitchens was right — Cooper did look a little stressed and nervy. The dark patches under his eyes made him look older than twenty-eight, and he

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  didn’t seem to have shaved properly this morning. His hands were shaking slightly, even belore he had been told the news that he would not he on the shortlist for the OS’s job. Jepson wondered whether Ben Cooper had a drink problem. He would have to ask DI Hitchcns.

  ‘Does it come as a shock to you, Cooper?’

  “I suppose I had wondered about it, sir. 1 had a psychological assessment done, you see.’

  ‘And what did it say in your psychological assessment report, Cooper?’

  ‘It said I’m not assertive enough, sir. Too inclined to interiorize and empathize in inappropr
iate circumstances.’

  ‘Mmm. And do you know what that means?’

  ‘Not a clue, sir.’

  ‘It means you’re too bloody nice, Cooper.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘And we can’t have nice cops, can we? Not any more. Oh aye, we’ve every other kind of police now, Cooper. They’ve all got their place in the modern service. We’ve got black cops, women cops, gay cops, even psychic cops.’

  Cooper took the last to be a reference to a story that had appeared in the local paper about a section officer who was a prominent member of the Spiritualist Church and had recently confessed to clairvoyant tendencies.

  ‘Nothing can surprise me now,’ said Jepson. ‘Next we’ll have transvestite cops, you’ll see. Some bugger in Vice Squad will turn up in a skirt one day, and then it’ll be anything goes. We’ll have midget cops, zombie cops, blue-skinned cops from the Planet Zog. Who knows? Maybe we’ll have genetically manipulated PCs with muscles like King Kong and brains like turnips. No, scrub that, we’ve got those already. But God forbid we should discriminate against any of them, Cooper. The one thing that won’t be tolerated is a prejudiced cop.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Cooper, and tried a tentative smile, assuming Jepson was trying to cheer him up.

  The superintendent looked at him suspiciously. He liked his junior officers to laugh at his jokes, but only when he was actually joking. ‘I suppose you think there’s no reason

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  why we shouldn’t have nice cops, don’t you, Cooper? No reason at all.’

  ‘No, sir. Just not as a sergeant, perhaps?’

  ‘Well, who wants to be a bloodv sergeant? It’s the dosj’s arse

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  of a job, believe me.’

  They both listened for a moment, trying to catch the echoes of the insincerity from the plasterboard walls. Jepson tapped his hands on his desk to break the moment, glaring at Cooper until he was forced to speak.