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

‘Now, Mr Vernon. Shall we start from the beginning? What would you like to tell me about Lee Sherratt?’

The mood in the briefing room was subdued. Though they had followed up all the available leads, many officers felt that they still didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. It was the start of a feeling that the enquiry might be running out of steam. Cooper recognized it, and knew that Tailby would too. It was the DCI’s job, as Senior Investigating Officer, to keep the troops motivated.

‘OK,’ said Tailby. ‘We have traced and interviewed both Lee Sherratt and the boyfriend, Simeon Holmes. But to eliminate one or both from the enquiry, we still need evidence, and that’s what I’m not getting. Forensics have given us very little so far. I remain hopeful of the bite mark, but we’re still waiting on the odontologist in Sheffield. We’re told tomorrow for a preliminary report on the bite – but comparisons with the moulds that Sherratt and Holmes have provided will take longer.’

Ben Cooper looked around the incident room, but saw no sign of Diane Fry, or of DI Hitchens. He concluded that the party of hikers had been located, and that the two of them were already somewhere to the north, following a lead that he himself had reported from Moorhay.

‘Holmes’s story of Laura Vernon being sexually experienced is backed up by the postmortem findings,’ said Tailby. ‘Also by her own brother’s statement. So if Holmes is right about the victim’s sexual inclinations, can Lee Sherratt be believed when he says he had nothing to do with her? As Holmes stated in his interview, “You don’t say no, do you?”’

Tailby shuffled his papers. There was a diminishing number of officers in the incident room tonight. It looked as though the enquiry was already starting to be scaled down. Most of the TIE actions had been completed. Many of the individuals peripherally involved had been discounted. Traced, Interviewed and Eliminated.

Now, though, the leads that were being followed up were more focused. A shortlist of individual subjects were being targeted. Mr Tailby had sifted his priorities and chosen his lines of enquiry. He had to feel fairly confident of the avenues that were worth pursuing. There was an underlying belief that the forensic scientists would produce the evidence that would seal the case.

‘We also have the rest of Daniel Vernon’s story,’ said Tailby, ‘which may be totally irrelevant. But if he is telling the truth, then it indicates that Sherratt is lying. And we might ask ourselves – if Sherratt was willing to conduct an affair with the mother, why not with the daughter? We remain to be convinced on that. Until Holmes’s alibi is satisfactorily checked out, we have to consider that either of these youths could have been the one seen talking to Laura earlier that evening. On the other hand, it could have been someone else entirely. So we’re struggling without the physical evidence. There’s a weapon out there somewhere, but there’s also a second trainer belonging to Laura Vernon. Both are crucial, but the trainer is going to be easier to identify.’

The DCI paused and tried to look at each officer individually. Some of them met his eye, but others were busy reading notes or staring at the photographs and maps on the wall.

‘So here’s what we do,’ he said. ‘We go round the houses in Moorhay again. With all the publicity and activity in the village, no one’s going to want to hang on to evidence like that – and I’m reckoning it will have been disposed of in the area. So we check out streams, ponds, ditches. And we look for signs of recent digging or burning. That would be the most obvious way to dispose of something like a trainer. Burying or burning. Someone must have been doing that in the last few days.’

Tailby pinned another blown-up photo on the wall behind him. ‘This is Holmes. We’re asking questions about both him and Sherratt now. But don’t overlook other possibilities, of course.’

Ben Cooper sat up with a sudden lurch of excitement when he saw the photo of Simeon Holmes. He had seen him already, and in Moorhay too. Not only that, but at the time, the youth had been digging. And a friend with him had been burning something. Cooper hesitated for a moment. It seemed bizarre – but he knew he had to speak now, not later.

‘I’ve seen him, sir,’ he said. ‘Earlier today. In fact, he must have come straight from the smallholding to be interviewed here.’

All eyes turned on Cooper. Hesitantly, he told them about the vast compost heap that had been taking shape at Thorpe Farm that morning. He told them about seeing Simeon Holmes himself tipping barrowload after barrowload of fresh manure on to the heap, and about the old men carefully covering it over and treading it down. He told them about the unidentified youth with his small bonfire, and about what could have been a deliberately distracting conversation as he himself had stood in front of the heap.

As he spoke, he could sense the officers in the room pulling faces and drawing away from him as though they could actually smell the manure on his clothes.

When he had finished his story, he waited for a reaction. He was thinking of the words repeated by Sam Beeley and Wilford Cutts – ‘blood and bone’, they had said. And again: ‘blood and bone’.

Tailby stared at him, and groaned.

‘Oh Jesus,’ he said. ‘We’re going to have to dig it up.’

A hastily assembled team arrived at Thorpe Farm an hour later in a variety of vehicles, which parked on the track between the jumble of outbuildings. A Task Force sergeant in a boiler suit and wellington boots walked up to the house, where he found Wilford Cutts and Sam Beeley waiting outside, astonished at their sudden arrival. He served the search warrant on Wilford.

‘You want to search my house?’ said Wilford. ‘What for?’

‘Not the house,’ said the sergeant. ‘The outside property.’

‘Outside –?’

‘Starting with the field over there.’

Officers were gathering on the track, fastening their boiler suits and pulling on wellingtons and gloves as spades and forks were issued from a van.

‘You’re never going to dig my field up,’ said Wilford.

Sam waved his stick and started laughing as he saw where the policemen were heading.

‘Look at their faces,’ he said. ‘They’re not digging the field up, they’re going to dig up the muck heap.’

The sergeant’s expression told them he was right.

‘What do you think you’ll find?’ called Wilford, but the sergeant walked away without answering.

A Scenes of Crime officer was raking through the remains of the fire and bagging the ashes as Tailby and Cooper came up from their car to the field. The two old men were standing by the top gate to watch the operation, and Cooper could feel their eyes on him as they approached.

‘It was built by craftsmen, that heap,’ said Wilford accusingly. ‘Your bloody coppers are going to ruin it.’

‘Some of them buggers look as though they’ve never used a fork in their lives,’ said Sam, gazing in wonder at the boiler-suited diggers.

‘Mr Cutts, I believe you had a young man by the name of Simeon Holmes working here earlier today,’ said Tailby.

‘Oh aye,’ said Wilford. ‘Young Simeon and his mate. Good lads, they are. Hard workers. They mucked out the pig shed for us.’

‘And helped you build the compost heap there.’

‘Well, they did the heavy work, the barrowing and that.’

‘What’s in the compost heap, Mr Cutts?’

‘Here now,’ said Sam. ‘We told your lad there exactly what was put in it. Didn’t we, Wilford?’

‘We explained it very carefully, as I recall.’

Sam’s attention drifted back down the field. He couldn’t believe what he saw. ‘Some of them’s shifting it, and some of them’s just standing looking at it. What do they think it’s going to do? Dance the hokey cokey?’

‘And there was some burning, I believe? What were you burning, Mr Cutts?’

‘Some old straw. Some dead branches. General rubbish.’

‘Did you allow Simeon Holmes to put any extra items on to the fire or into the compost heap?’

‘You what?’

‘The other lad looked after the fire, in between barrowing,’ said Sam.

‘And who was he?’

‘Name of Doc, that’s all. A mate of young Simeon’s.’

‘A nickname?’

‘I suppose so. Never seen him before.’

‘How did they happen to be working for you, Mr Cutts?’