Secrets of Death (28 page)

At the top of the high street, he turned left at the lights into Clappergate, away from the pedestrianised area. He passed the front of the railway station and the spire of All Saints parish church. He found himself thinking about people who threw themselves off tall buildings. You needed about fifteen storeys to be sure you wouldn’t survive the fall and leave yourself with massive injuries instead.

There were no buildings tall enough for that in the town. Well, unless you could get to the top of the
spire at All Saints. That would do it, he supposed. He’d never heard of anyone attempting it and he hoped he never would.

There was another thing that had changed in Edendale. And it was one that Ben Cooper regretted. For many years, he and other officers based at E Division headquarters had been calling at May’s Café, just down the hill from West Street, for a mug of May’s coffee and a meat pie. It had been a tradition, deeply ingrained in the working practices of the police station.

But the café had closed when May Hobson became ill and no one could be found to run it in her place. It was empty now and awaiting a confirmed buyer. Rumours at West Street said it was going to be a hairdresser’s or a tattoo parlour. Whenever Cooper walked past it, he still seemed to detect the aroma of coffee and baking – familiar and comforting, like May herself. It was a lesson everyone had to learn. Some traditions passed, because their time was over.

Cooper walked past the door of the CID room towards his office, automatically glancing in to see which of his team were present. At first, he didn’t notice anything unusual. He’d reached his desk and was taking off his jacket when he stopped and frowned.

‘No, it can’t be,’ he said.

Slowly Cooper walked back out and gazed into the room. It was as if he’d been hurled back in time, shifted several months into the past when the world was a different place. Yet somehow it also seemed completely right and natural.

The person sitting next to Becky Hurst looked round,
chewing slowly on something. Cooper could have a good guess what it was. A remnant of pork pie or a bite of a cunningly concealed Mars bar.

‘Gavin, what on earth are you doing here?’

‘Eh-up,’ said Murfin with a grin. ‘They told me you needed a bit of help. So here I am.’

‘That’s not possible.’

‘Not possible? Think of me as a miracle, then.’

‘But why you?’

‘I’m available,’ said Murfin. ‘And I’m cheap.’

‘Don’t tell me you got sacked from Eden Valley Enquiries.’

‘We went our separate ways by mutual consent,’ said Murfin. ‘We had artistic differences.’

‘No, that’s what members of boy bands say when they can’t stand each other any longer.’

Murfin sighed and picked at something stuck in his teeth. ‘I couldn’t face one more day on the Woodlands Estate. That’s the truth of it, like. It had got so they saw me coming like the bailiffs or the rent collector, and they all closed their curtains and hid. I mean, what sort of private enquiry agent has to stand on someone’s doorstep shouting through the letterbox while kids abuse him from the pavement?’

Cooper laughed. ‘It didn’t work out, then. Not quite up to your expectations.’

‘That’s the top and bottom of it. So when I heard a rumour that HR were scouring Derbyshire for cheap civilian staff to hire, I decided to bite the bullet and take a pay cut. Just to help out, like. Public duty and all that.’

‘You
were missing us.’

‘After a fashion.’

So this was what Superintendent Branagh had meant when she talked about supplementing staff. In a way it was amazing that Gavin Murfin was the one who’d been brought back. Of course, he was only recently retired, which meant he hadn’t lost touch in the way most retirees so quickly did.

On the other hand, he had never made any attempt to toe the line while he was here, never tried to be in anyone’s good books. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’d been very free with his comments, his sarcastic asides and sardonic looks. There must be something about becoming a senior manager that destroyed your sense of irony. That was the only reason Murfin had got away with it for all those years.

Cooper looked around the room to see how Murfin was fitting back in. Even Becky Hurst looked pleased to see him.

‘So what am I supposed to do with you, Gavin?’ asked Cooper.

‘I can take statements, make phone calls, prepare files for court, bring fun and laughter to the office.’

‘Door-to-door enquiries?’

Murfin sighed. ‘If you insist. But …’

‘But it might be better if we just kept you in the office and away from the general public.’

‘That seems to be the general idea. Since I’m not a police officer any more.’

‘So whose responsibility are you? Whose authority do you actually answer to?’

‘The
same as everyone else,’ said Murfin. ‘Human Resources.’

‘I wish Hazel Branagh had told me,’ said Cooper. ‘She ought to have been more specific about what was being planned.’

Murfin tapped the side of his nose. ‘I’m a sort of secret weapon, like.’

‘No powers of arrest, though.’

‘Definitely.’

‘Not that I can recall the last time you arrested someone, Gavin.’

‘True, it wasn’t my speciality in my more mature years. I preferred to use my vast experience to guide my colleagues.’

‘Is that a direct quote from your application letter?’ asked Cooper.

Murfin smiled. ‘You’d have to ask HR.’

‘How did it go with Diane Fry?’ asked Carol Villiers, changing the subject.

‘Oh, it was fine,’ Ben said. She knew about his history with Fry, of course. There wasn’t much he could conceal from Carol. And she’d worked with Fry too for a while, when Cooper was on extended leave. Villiers had made no secret of the fact that she hadn’t enjoyed the experience, in fact had regarded Diane Fry as a kind of interloper.

But was there something more personal between them? Cooper could see Carol’s hackles rise as she mentioned Fry’s name. Perhaps they were just incompatible personalities. Fry wanted to dominate everyone and Villiers wasn’t the kind of woman to let that happen to her.

‘Fine?’
she said. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, of course. We’re both professionals, aren’t we?’

‘If you say so, Ben.’

Murfin grinned when he overheard their conversation.

‘Detective Sergeant Fry?’ he said, drawing out the name with disturbing relish. ‘Shallow as a puddle, I reckon.’

‘Are you kidding, Gavin?’

Murfin looked surprised to be challenged on his view. ‘I can read her like a book, mate. It’s all on the surface. She wants you to think there’s a lot of depth behind it, but it’s all out there really. What you see is what you get. Superficial, like.’

‘I think you may have seriously misjudged Diane Fry.’

Murfin winked. ‘My instincts are never wrong.’

‘I think your instincts have died, Gavin. They’re just overdue for a decent burial.’

Cooper filled in his team with an outline of the case against Roger Farrell and the two associates, Simon Hull and Anwar Sharif.

‘Farrell’s funeral is the one we ought to be present at,’ said Villiers. ‘It won’t happen for a while yet, until the inquest has been opened at least.’

‘We can keep an eye out for the date, though.’

‘Okay.’

Cooper even had DS Devdan Sharma back from secondment. That meant the team was almost back to full strength, the way it had been when he’d first moved up from uniform to CID.

Sharma
came to Cooper’s office to give him a briefing on the immigration inquiry, though he didn’t need to. It was outside Cooper’s remit, not his responsibility at all. But it was courteous of Dev to do that. He was always dutiful in the role of detective sergeant, always had respect for Cooper’s position as his boss.

Not everyone showed him that level of respect. In fact, Cooper wasn’t sure he liked it. He preferred honesty and he wasn’t convinced that Dev Sharma was genuine. There was something else going on in the background, which would take him more time to figure out.

Sharma was a recent addition to E Division CID, filling the role that Cooper himself had left vacant when he was promoted. Cooper had taken him for dinner one night shortly after he arrived in Edendale, in an attempt to get to know him. He always felt it was important with someone he was going to be working with closely. They’d gone to the Mussel and Crab on Hollowgate, and shared a selection of fish and chicken dishes. And yes, Sharma had talked about himself, his background, his family, his police career in D Division in Derby.

But Cooper had come away from the evening feeling he’d failed. He’d been given a list of facts, like a carefully planned character outline, rather than getting right to the heart of the person. He still didn’t really
know
Dev Sharma. Perhaps it would just take more time. Some people were like that.

‘The group organising and exploiting illegal migrant workers was based in Derby, but there were links to other cities,’ said Sharma. ‘It was quite a network.’

‘Nottingham
too?’ said Cooper.

‘Yes. And Leicester. Even down as far as Birmingham. So the inquiry has moved beyond us now.’

‘Was it a useful experience?’

‘The illegal workers we picked up were taken to an immigration removal centre near Lincoln,’ said Sharma, avoiding the question. ‘Right out in the country. It’s strange, isn’t it?’

Cooper took it that he hadn’t enjoyed the assignment but didn’t feel able to say so.

‘What is?’

‘I think most people don’t know places like that even exist.’

Cooper had to agree. The location that Sharma was referring to had been a women’s prison until a few years ago. Now it was operated on behalf of the UK Border Agency, housing four hundred foreign detainees awaiting deportation. Its new purpose might not be obvious to the casual passer-by. It had maintained a low profile, even after the death of a Bangladeshi migrant worker.

‘You wouldn’t want to work on Immigration Enforcement, then?’ said Cooper.

Sharma shook his head firmly. ‘No.’

Cooper was surprised to see his DS looked genuinely shaken by his experience working alongside Immigration Enforcement. It was the first real glimpse of the man behind the facts.

‘Well, there’s certainly plenty to do here,’ said Cooper. ‘We’ll be able to keep you busy.’

‘I’m glad of that.’ Sharma hesitated before continuing. ‘DI
Cooper, I know I haven’t fitted in here as easily as you might have hoped. I’m not familiar with this area and I may appear lacking in vital local knowledge at times. But I do appreciate the opportunity of working in E Division as part of your team.’

It was quite a speech and it sounded genuine. Cooper felt himself warming to Sharma.

‘Let’s get to work, then,’ he said. ‘Have you heard about our current inquiry, Dev?’

‘DC Irvine has told me about what he called “suicide tourists”.’

‘We’re trying to avoid using that term, if possible.’

‘I told him it was inappropriate.’

‘Good.’

It dawned on Cooper that Luke Irvine might take more notice of Dev Sharma’s disapproval than anything his DI said. Now, that could be very useful.

‘I’d like you to supervise DCs Irvine and Hurst, who should be sifting through a stack of suicide cases recorded over the last few months. Chase them up. Make sure they let you know any potential links they find.’

‘Will do.’

‘And Irvine is doing an online search on suicide websites.’

‘I could take that over,’ said Sharma immediately.

Cooper considered it briefly. ‘No, let Luke run with it, but keep a close eye on him.’

Sharma nodded. ‘I notice we have DC Murfin back again too,’ he said.

‘Ex-DC. He’s a civilian now. Bear that in mind, but use him wherever possible.’

‘And
I imagine there are quite a few memos and emails for me to catch up on?’ said Sharma.

‘Yes.’ Cooper smiled. ‘Better get on with it, then, Dev.’

Sharma stood up to leave. With his hand on the door handle, he turned back to Cooper.

‘You know, DI Cooper – I heard one of our spiritual leaders at the Geeta Bhawan Temple in Peartree talk about the subject of suicide once. He told us it was always wrong because it disrupts karma. He said the important thing to remember is that your suffering is justified.’

‘Justified?’

Sharma gazed at him, his brown eyes suddenly intense.

‘Yes, justified,’ he said. ‘People fully deserve what they’re experiencing, because it’s a consequence of their own actions. Their actions in a former life.’

And of course Diane Fry had arrived at West Street too. She entered the CID room as if she’d never left E Division. With a nod to Cooper, she cast a critical eye around the room.

‘Isn’t that Gavin Murfin?’ hissed Fry when she got Cooper on his own.

‘You know perfectly well it is. You worked with him for long enough. You could hardly have forgotten what he looks like.’

‘But he retired, didn’t he?’

‘Yes, a few months ago.’

‘And not before time. So what is he doing here?’

‘Civilian support,’ said Cooper.

That
was the phrase he’d been given when he asked. That was the job description on Murfin’s ID card attached to the lanyard round his neck. Civilian support. It was a nice-sounding phrase. It had echoes of Sir Robert Peel’s
Principles of Law Enforcement
: ‘The police are the public and the public are the police’.

‘Unbelievable,’ said Fry.

That sounded unduly harsh to Cooper. It was bizarre and illogical, yes. But very little that senior management did was unbelievable. And Gavin Murfin was very much a believable presence.

He studied Fry more closely. She looked a bit harassed, with dark shadows under her eyes, as if she hadn’t been sleeping properly for some reason.

‘Are you okay, Diane?’ he asked.

‘I’m fine. I’ve just been having a bad week.’

‘That’s tough,’ said Cooper.

If it had been him, if he was going through a really bad week, he would have gone for a drive over the Snake Pass or taken a long walk on the moors, whatever the weather. As far as Cooper was concerned, there was nothing like a good blow to clear the mind and make you feel better. There wasn’t any point in suggesting it to Diane Fry, though. Whatever was troubling her, she would deal with it in her own way. If it was a person, she would probably kill them.