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

Cooper didn’t know what to say to that. But Wilford wasn’t expecting a reply in any case. They passed several of the makeshift buildings along the track and came to the stone-built shed where the nanny goat had been on Tuesday when it had escaped.

‘The goat’s gone quiet,’ remarked Cooper.

‘Aye. Quiet enough.’

He poked his head round the corner of the goat’s shed, but it was empty. There was no sign of the animal in the paddock either. Harry had disappeared behind another shed in a wire enclosure, and emerged with the black Labrador on a leather lead in one hand and a plastic carrier bag in the other.

When they reached the Toyota, Harry sat on a wall and took off his dung-covered wellingtons and a pair of thick socks, exposing thin white feet. He took a pair of clean shoes and socks from the carrier bag and put them on.

‘I’m not over-fond of the job, you understand,’ he said. ‘But it’s only natural stuff, manure. The missus’ll moan, though, when I get in.’

When Harry got into the passenger seat of the hot car, Cooper realized exactly why Gwen Dickinson was likely to complain.

Andrew Milner drove up the gravel drive of the Mount and parked in front of the mock pillars, close to Graham Vernon’s Jaguar. He looked enviously at the sleek blue car, conscious of its importance as a symbol of the difference in status between himself and his employer. Andrew merited only a three-year-old Ford Mondeo, like any ordinary salesman.

He picked up a document case from the passenger seat, took a deep breath and walked towards the front door. There was a closed-circuit TV camera high on the front wall, pointing down towards where he stood. Andrew kept his face turned away from its lens as he approached the steps. The sun reflecting from the white walls of the house created a protective barrier of heat and glare that he had to fight his way through.

‘Excuse me. Mr Milner?’

Andrew looked around, startled. He found a dark, intense young man staring at him from the other side of the Jaguar. He looked dirty and unkempt, and for a moment Andrew thought he must have been trying to steal Graham Vernon’s car, until he recognized him.

‘Oh. It’s Daniel, isn’t it?’

‘We met once, didn’t we?’

‘Yes. Look, I’m sorry about, you know –’

‘It’s not your fault. You work for my father, but you’re not like him, are you?’ Daniel walked round the Jaguar. He was carrying a bunch of keys with a remote control device for the door locks and alarm. ‘I was going to borrow Dad’s car, but I’ve changed my mind. I think I’d rather walk.’

Andrew watched in astonishment as Daniel tossed the keys into a stone urn standing by the front steps. They vanished into the roots of a small shrub.

‘I thought somebody around here ought to say sorry to you,’ said Daniel.

‘To me?’

The young man came closer. ‘Sorry that you got involved. You and your family. I don’t suppose my parents would ever mention it. They don’t care, you see. They don’t see the effect on anyone except themselves.’

Andrew didn’t know what to say. He clutched his document case closer, searching his reserve of social small talk for a reply. ‘You’re studying at university, aren’t you?’

Daniel laughed, then looked away, as if suddenly losing interest. ‘I’m at Exeter, doing political science. A different world.’

‘Such a dreadful thing to happen,’ said Andrew, exhausting his stock of phrases.

When the young man spoke again, it was as if he was addressing the blue Jaguar, as if he had forgotten that Andrew Milner was there.

‘They had already rung me at Exeter as soon as Laura disappeared, you know. But I just thought she’d gone off with this bloke, the boyfriend, Simeon Holmes. It was bound to happen sooner or later, I thought. I intended to come back home, but only after Mum and Dad had got over the shock of finding out their daughter was a secret nympho.’

‘I see.’

‘I should have come back straightaway. Shouldn’t I? Don’t you think so?’

‘It’s not for me to judge. Really –’

‘No, not for anybody to judge but me,’ said Daniel bitterly. ‘Sorry to have bothered you.’

He set off to walk down the drive, his hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans and his shoulders hunched angrily. Andrew watched him until the young man stopped a few yards away and turned back to shout in derision.

‘Don’t just stand there, go on in! I’m sure you’ll find my mother available!’

Andrew shook his head, bewildered, but went on up the steps to ring the bell. Charlotte Vernon answered the door, looking smart in a cashmere sweater and cream slacks. She stared at Andrew for a moment, then broke into astonished laughter that carried a hint of hysteria.

‘You! What on earth are you doing here?’

Andrew flushed, pulling nervously at his tie. His forehead was creased in permanent anxiety. ‘I’m sorry, Charlotte. I’ve got some papers that I need Graham to sign.’

‘Oh, really? Important papers?’

He waved a hand helplessly, hardly daring to look at her, conscious of the sweat running down inside his collar. He suddenly remembered the car keys in the urn outside, and wondered how he could mention them.

‘Lost for words?’ said Charlotte. ‘You’d better come in, I suppose. But it’ll have to be quick.’

‘I’m sorry. Are you going out?’

‘We’ve got our big moment of fame.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

She stood close to him, touching his arm, widening her eyes instinctively as she enjoyed his embarrassment.

‘Graham and I are doing a television appeal. The police seem to think it will do some good.’

‘Oh, I see.’

Andrew clutched his document case closer to him, so that it covered his groin like a protective talisman. His eyes roved round the hallway, looking towards the doors as if hoping for rescue. He tried to sidle gradually towards where he knew Graham’s office lay.

‘I’m sure Graham will be wonderful on TV, aren’t you?’

‘Oh yes. He’s very articulate.’

‘Articulate. That’s good. Yes, he talks very well, doesn’t he? Very convincing. But what do you think, Andrew?’

He found himself almost squashed against the wall, close to an antique inlaid cabinet he had always admired. His hand slid across its lid as he groped for support, leaving a sweaty palm print on its polished surface.

‘About what happened to Laura, you mean?’

‘Yes – that, Andrew.’

‘They’ve taken Lee Sherratt in for questioning, haven’t they?’