Stephen Booth – Lost River (страница 9)
Fry had only come into the office to clear her desk. She watched Cooper get up and leave the CID room as nine o’clock came round. He was off for his appointment with Branagh.
‘Gavin,’ she said, ‘did Ben meet the family of that girl who drowned? Has he mentioned it to you?’
‘Well, he hasn’t, as it happens,’ said Murfin. ‘He hasn’t talked about it much. But, yes – I hear he went to the hospital in Derby. Even drove the family home afterwards.’
Fry sighed. ‘He’s getting personally involved.’
‘I couldn’t say.’
‘Very loyal, Gavin.’
She dumped some files in her ‘out’ tray. They weren’t all dealt with, but someone would pick them up when she’d gone.
‘This family. I suppose they’re another lost cause of his.’
‘No. A nice, respectable middle-class family, from what I hear. You should try reading the bulletins.’
Fry scowled. ‘How can you tell when a family is nice and respectable?’
‘When the kids are well behaved. Respectful. I like that.’
‘Oh?’
Murfin seemed to sense the way she was looking at him.
‘What?’
‘Oh, nothing.’
‘Anyway – compared to my lot, some middle-class kids are a marvel. I wish somebody would write a parenting manual telling us how to turn out teenagers like that.’
Fry looked up as Cooper came back from the Super’s office.
‘Acting DS?’ she said.
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I suppose…’ said Fry, struggling to find the right words to camouflage her doubts. She wasn’t sure what she supposed. And she wasn’t sure whether she cared, really.
‘I’ve got the experience, Diane,’ he said, defensively.
‘Gavin has more than you.’
Fry knew it was a ridiculous thing to say, even before the sentence had left her mouth. The prospect of Gavin Murfin as Acting Detective Sergeant was so bizarre that it made the choice of Ben Cooper seem all the more preferable, even to her.
‘Well, look after the kids, won’t you?’ she said.
‘Of course.’
And she supposed he would. In fact, Cooper would probably ruin them for anything worthwhile in the course of a week. He’d pollute their minds by encouraging them to empathize, improvise, trust their instincts. Some nonsense like that. She’d have her work cut out to undo the damage when she came back from Birmingham. It might take her years to get them back in shape.
Fry sighed. Oh, well. God had sent Ben Cooper to her as a challenge, there was no doubt about that.
‘I need to hand over this case to you. The drugs enquiry on the Devonshire Estate.’
‘To me?’
‘Yes, to you. Acting DS Cooper.’
‘Right. That would be Michael Lowndes?’
‘He’s our initial suspect. But we believe he’s low level. We haven’t pulled him in because we want to identify the main players. We had an abortive surveillance operation yesterday. You heard about that?’
‘Yes, Diane.’
‘Our information was that he was due to meet up with his bosses yesterday to make one of his regular payments. But we slipped up, and lost him on the estate. He could have had somebody waiting to pick him up, we don’t know. You’ll need to see if you can get another shot at it. Okay?’
‘Fine, I’ll give it a go.’
Fry handed him the file reluctantly. She felt as if she was handing her purse to a mugger, and advising him how to spend the money.
‘Diane, is it true you’re going –’
‘To Birmingham, yes.’
‘I hope it goes well.’
‘Thanks. Whatever that means.’
‘Yeah.’
Fry turned away. The trouble was, no matter how clumsily he did it, Ben Cooper was always sincere.
Before she left the office, Fry relented and went over to give him some advice. Tips on how best to handle the team while she was away. Cooper nodded politely, even made a few notes. As if he actually thought she knew what she was doing.
‘And don’t worry about the thing yesterday,’ she said. ‘I know what you’re like, Ben. But it was an accident, pure and simple. Not your responsibility. Don’t get involved. Turn in your statement, and forget about it.’
‘Right, Diane,’ he said. ‘Understood. Have a good trip.’
When Fry had picked up her things and left, Cooper called Murfin over. He was munching on a chocolate bar – what he called his second breakfast.
‘Yes, new boss. What can I do for you? Pick up Michael Lowndes and give him the old rubber hose treatment, or what?’
‘No, Gavin. I want you to get PNC print-outs for all the registered sex offenders in the Ashbourne area.’
Murfin stopped chewing. ‘Are you looking for someone in particular?’
‘Yes,’ said Cooper. ‘And I’ll recognize him when I see him.’
To reach the A515 from Edendale, Cooper had a circuitous drive across Tideswell, Miller’s Dale and Blackwell. One of the pleasantest drives in the Peak District, but he barely noticed it. The A515 was the road south, down out of the White Peak to Ashbourne.
Three-quarters of an hour later, Cooper was sitting down on a rather chintzy sofa in the Nields’ lounge, facing a fireplace with a polished oak surround containing a living-flame gas fire – one of those things that were supposed to provide the impression of an open fire, but without any of the mess. Photographs of the family stood on a display mantel. At one end of the room, double doors stood open into a dining room with another bay window overlooking the rear garden. And, in the distance, he had another view of Thorpe Cloud.
‘Have you lived here long, Mr Nield?’ he asked.
‘About two years.’
‘But you’re local, aren’t you?’
‘Oh, yes. We lived in Wetton before we came here.’
Cooper nodded. Wetton was a small village about ten miles northwest of Ashbourne, close to Dovedale itself.
‘And you’re a supermarket manager, is that right?’
‘Yes, I manage an independent here in Ashbourne, called Lodge’s. Do you know it?’
‘I’ve heard of it, I think,’ said Cooper.
‘Well, that’s something. A lot of people don’t even realize there
‘It’s good to have independent businesses. Ashbourne is lucky.’