LITMIR.BIZ

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very soon. He signs off for good at the beginning of next month. DC Cooper was one we had in mind for the job, wasn’t he?’

      ‘He was top of the shortlist,’ said Hitchens.

      ‘What’s your view on that now?’

      ‘Frankly, he appears to be a touch emotionally unstable. He was very moody yesterday. All over something and nothing, as far as I can gather.’

      ‘This new DC, though. Fry …’

      ‘She’s got better qualifications than Cooper. And she seems very stable, despite her past history.’

      Jepson nodded seriously. ‘Ah, the business in the West Midlands. Of course.’

      ‘A very nasty business,’ said Tailby. ‘But she’s fine now, isn’t she? Paul?’

      ‘A bit of a cold fish, but solid as a rock, sir. Totally in control, I’d say. Very professional. No ill effects, she says.’

      ‘You’ve actually discussed it with her?’ asked Jepson.

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘Good man. That’s excellent management. Good relations with the staff.’

      ‘According to her record, she had the standard counselling. There’s a note that she packed the sessions in, though, after she split up with a boyfriend. Seems he couldn’t handle it, but she could.’

      ‘I suppose that sort of experience can actually make someone a stronger person,’ suggested Tailby.

      ‘Ah, that’s right. Baptism of fire and all that. Add Diane Fry’s name to the shortlist. Let’s see how she shapes up in the interviews.’

      ‘Ben Cooper, though … He’d be a popular choice, sir.’

      ‘Mmm. Emotionally unstable, Paul says. I don’t like the sound of that. Cooper’s a bit too immature yet for a supervisory post, I think. It’s a pity, though. A local lad, wonderful local knowledge. Dedicated, hard-working, bright.’

      ‘It’s not enough,’ said Hitchens.

      Jepson sighed. ‘You’re probably right. Do I take it we’re agreed DC Cooper is not an option to replace Osborne?’ He waited while the others nodded. ‘In that case, it’d better be done quickly. I’ll see him this morning during the briefing and break the news. I’ll jolly him along a bit, try to soften the blow. Suggest a bit of lateral development.’

      The three men sat for a moment, calmly assessing a job well done. Jepson stirred and sat upright, signalling a change of subject.

      ‘What’s the progress on the Vernon enquiry, then? Stewart?’

      ‘We don’t need to expend extra resources at this stage, sir. I expect forensic results today. They could wrap the enquiry up, I think.’

      ‘You’ve got two possibles, haven’t you?’

      ‘I’m confident forensics will tie in either Lee Sherratt or the boyfriend, Simeon Holmes,’ said Tailby. ‘That will be the breakthrough we need. We could be making an arrest soon.’

      ‘That sounds like a good press release,’ said Jepson hopefully. ‘If we can get that out to the media today, they might forget about the pigs.’

      ‘I remain hopeful,’ said Tailby.

      

      Harry Dickinson was wearing his black-framed bifocals, which 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 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 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.’

      ‘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.’

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

      ‘Oh aye. Obviously.’

      ‘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 few 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 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, lass. Anything.’

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

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