Cooper and Fry Crime Fiction Series Books 1-3: Black Dog, Dancing With the Virgins, Blood on the Tongue

‘It’s a little early to be back at university, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Surely August is still the summer holidays for these students, isn’t it?’

‘Of course.’ Suddenly, Vernon looked as though he might be losing patience. ‘But there are always things to do before the term starts proper. Summer schools, revision, settling into new digs.’

Tailby nodded. ‘Tell me again about Lee Sherratt.’

‘Again? Surely you know enough about him already? I don’t think there’s any more I can tell you that will help you to find him, if you haven’t managed it already.’

‘We’re looking as hard as we can, sir. I’m hopeful we’ll locate the boy soon. But I’d just like to get the alleged circumstances clear in my mind.’

‘The alleged circumstances?’ Vernon looked a little red in the face.

‘His relationship with Laura.’

Vernon sighed. ‘He’s a young man, isn’t he? Twenty years old. You know what young men are like. Laura was a very attractive girl. Very attractive. You could see by the way he looked at her what he was thinking. I had to get rid of him in the end. It never occurred to me when I took him on – I blame myself for that.’

‘So he looked at Laura,’ said Tailby. ‘Anything else?’

‘Well … he took any excuse to strip off his shirt when he worked in the garden. Whenever he knew she was watching him. I thought of telling him not to, but it would only have drawn attention to the fact.’

‘It’s not what I’d call a relationship,’ said Tailby.

‘It was obvious that he wanted to go further. I don’t need telling about young men like Sherratt, Chief Inspector. I had to nip it in the bud. I couldn’t have him pestering my daughter.’

‘Did she say he was pestering her? Did she complain?’

‘Well, in a way.’

‘Mmm. Yet from what you say, it sounds as though Laura was equally interested in the young man.’

‘For God’s sake, she was only fifteen. That age is … difficult. They’re easily influenced, in the full flush of adolescent hormones. Surely you understand that.’

It was obvious to them both that Vernon was floundering.

‘So you sacked him.’

‘Yes. Last week. I told him we didn’t need him any more. He wasn’t very pleased, I can tell you.’

‘You tend to deal with these things yourself, do you, sir? Rather than your wife.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, you’re away all day on business. Sometimes you work long hours, no doubt. You arrive home late in the evenings. But your wife is at home most of the time, I gather. She would have had more contact with a gardener. Yet you would do something like that yourself, rather than letting your wife do it.’

‘Yes.’

‘I just thought, it might have been difficult to find the opportunity to speak to Sherratt, if you weren’t at home during the day.’

‘I made a point of it on this occasion, Chief Inspector.’

‘I would also have thought it might be difficult for you to get the chance to observe the boy.’

‘Observe him? You’re losing me.’

‘I’m going on your description just now. You described him looking at your daughter and showing off to her while she watched. That suggests to me, sir, that you must have spent some time observing him. Perhaps I should say, observing them both.’

Vernon was pacing towards the windows with his whisky. His hands were moving again now, touching his lips as if he feared his mouth might react of its own accord. ‘I don’t know what you’re getting at. It’s quite natural. Are those men of yours finished up there yet?’

‘Shall we see, sir?’ suggested Tailby.

Sheila Kelk’s gaze passed over Daniel’s shoulder to the doorway from the main hall. The tall policeman stood there, smiling politely, raising a slightly quizzical eyebrow. She wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there.

Daniel turned and stared at him. ‘And who exactly are you?’

‘Detective Chief Inspector Tailby, Edendale CID. Here with Mr Vernon’s permission, of course.’

‘Oh, sure.’

There were more footsteps in the hall behind Tailby.

‘Daniel?’ Graham Vernon looked tired rather than impatient now, the conflicting pressures starting to wear him down. He looked from Tailby to his son. ‘We didn’t expect you quite so soon.’

‘Mr Daniel Vernon, is it? I’d like to have a chat with you sometime, sir, when it’s convenient.’

Sheila looked at Daniel and received a glare so venomous that her mouth shut suddenly, and she began to drag the Dyson towards the dining room, away from the scene of confrontation.

‘Of course, Chief Inspector.’ The young man walked towards the policeman, staring up at him with an expression of undisguised fury. ‘I’m absolutely dying to tell you a few things you may not know about my parents.’

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‘Where to next, then?’ said Cooper.

‘What’s up with you? Eaten too much cheese at lunch?’

‘I’m fine. Where to next?’

‘Thorpe Farm,’ said Fry, consulting the map.

‘That’s one of the smallholdings. There’s another one at the end of the same lane. Bents Farm. We’d better make sure we don’t miss it out.’

Cooper had to wait while two women on horseback passed them, the horses walking slowly and elegantly, their muscled hindquarters shining with good health. The riders nodded a greeting and looked down into the car to study them, as if motorists were unusual in Moorhay. Someone appeared at the door of the bar at the Drover, wedged it open and propped a blackboard outside. From the tiny shop and post office came the sound of laughter.

Across the road, a workman was playing a transistor radio as he repointed the wall of a cottage. An old lady emerged from the open doorway to speak to him on his ladder, probably asking him if he wanted a cup of tea. She saw the Toyota and said something else to the workman, who turned round to look. Cooper had already visited the old lady, who had seemed to know more about everyone in the village than was good for her. But she had known nothing about Laura Vernon. Nothing at all.

It seemed to Cooper that there was more life about the village of Moorhay today than ever before when he had been there previously. It was as if the murder of Laura Vernon had given it a new vitality, had brought its inhabitants together in the face of adversity. Or maybe it had just given them something to talk about.

He turned the Toyota confidently into a rutted lane overshadowed by trees, with a tall border of grass growing up the middle that brushed along the underside of the car. The trees were mostly beech, with some huge horse chestnuts creating a dense canopy overhead. In the autumn, the children of the village would be drawn to this track with their sticks and stones to knock down the conkers.

‘Who lives out here, then?’ said Fry. ‘I suppose it’s your Auntie Alice or something, is it? It’s bound to be someone who greets you like the prodigal son. Some second cousin or other. Have your mother and father got big families? Inbreeding affects the brain, you know.’