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  —and then what happens?’

  Nobody answered him this time, not even Rennie. Fry found she had drawn an entire swarm of small blue flies flitting across her page, their flimsy wings beating fast, but going nowhere.

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  ‘The body,’ said Jepson, ‘is found by a man walking a dog.’ ‘Given another day or two —’ began DI Hitchens. But it was unwise — as duty inspector, Hitchens had been technically responsible for the search, though he had not been present. The superintendent cut straight across him.

  ‘Just tell me why,’ he said. ‘Why is there always a man walking a dog? You might start to suspect they were put there specifically to expose the shortcomings of the police force, eh? Lost a body somewhere in the woods? Don’t worry, chief, some old bloke walking his dog will find it for us. Got no description of the getaway car used in that armed robbery last night? No problem

  —some insomniac dragging poor old Rover round the streets is bound to have made a note of the registration number. Got no positive ID of your suspect to place him at the scene of the offence? Albert and Fido are sure to have clocked him stashing the loot while they were wetting a lamppost somewhere. Yes. Men walking dogs. If only they advertised their services in the Eden Valley Times, we’d save a fortune.’

  ‘Chief, I don’t think —’ said Hitchens.

  ‘And then,’ said Jepson, ‘we could disband the entire Derbyshire Constabulary and replace it with a few dozen blokes walking their dogs. They’d have the detection rate up in no time.’

  Diane Fry relegated Hitchens a few rungs in her mental hierarchy. She had to make the best impression she could among all these new faces and stay alert, try to pick up the names and ranks and figure out who was the most likely to be influential. Hitchens had started off near the top of the scale as her DI, but was gradually fading on the rails.

  A detective Fry didn’t recognize had put his hand up, like the bright boy in class wanting to get himself noticed. He had already drawn unwelcome attention to himself by arriving very late for the briefing, which had always been considered a disciplinary

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  offence in stations Fry had worked at. He had looked hot and flustered and dishevelled when he came in, as if he had only just tqi out of bed and he had suffered a prolonged glower from

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  Jepson. Now all eyes turned to him, welcoming a sacrificial victim, ama/cd that he was goina to throw himself into the pit

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  voluntarily. He looked to be in his late twenties, bul carried an air of innocence lackina in those around him. He was tall and

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  slim, and he had messv, light-brown hair That fell untidilv across his forehead.

  ‘Excuse me, sir, but I don’t understand.’

  ‘Oh aye? What don’t you understand, lad?’

  ‘Well, we got the dog section out from Ripley to go over the ground, didn’t we? So why didn’t the Ripley lot find what the old bloke’s dog found?’

  Jepson looked at him sharply, a scathing put-down hovering on his lips. But he saw the expression on the detective’s face, noticed his cheeks already starting to go a shade of pink. The superintendent sighed, his irritation suddenly spent.

  ‘I think you’ll find the key to that, Cooper,’ he said, ‘is not the dog. It’s the old bloke.’

  Finally, Jepson handed over to DCI Tailby as senior investigating

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  officer. Amid muffled sighs of relief and a flood of comforting conference room jargon, the discussion moved on into safer areas — the prioritization of lines of enquiry, the division of staff into enquiry teams, the allocation of action sheets. But several days later, Diane Fry was amazed to find that, in among the detailed anatomical drawings of common winged insects, she had recorded the superintendent’s last words exactly.

  ‘Preliminary report from the pathologist suggests death was caused by two or three heavy blows to the side of the head with a hard, smooth object. Task Force will commence a search for the weapon this morning.’

  All eyes in the room were fixed on the photograph of the crime scene which had been projected on to the screen behind Tailby. The full-length shot of the body lying in the undergrowth changed to a closer view of the head. The colour of Laura Vernon’s hair looked garish and unnatural in the photograph, and the dark,

  matted bloodstains were not easy to make out. Her red T-shirt made the accuracy of the colour balance even more doubtful.

  ‘First indications, based on temperature of the bodv and the stage of development of fly larvae found in the eyes, mouth and vulva, suggest Laura Vcrnon was killed within a couple of hours other aide of the first report that she sas miŤing — i.e. eight o’clock Saturday evening. As you know, we already have one

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  .n-lv report that I aura was seen talking to a vouno; man at about six-fifteen on a footpath in the scrubland just a few yards from her own back garden. This is some distance from where she was found, which was in the wooded area called the Baulk. Therefore we need to re-trace that final journey. House-to-house teams will concentrate on recording movements of anyone in and around

  the Baulk at about the time. Including, of course, any siahtinas

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  of Laura Vernon herself.’

  The picture changed to the lower half of Laura’s body. Black denims were pulled down to her knees, showing the top edge of a pair of blue pants, and several inches of deathly white flesh above and below the dark bush of hair.

  ‘As you see, Laura’s clothing was disturbed. However, subject to the full postmortem, which will be carried out later this morning, the pathologist’s initial view is that there is no evidence that any sexual assault took place, either before or after the victim’s death. There is one possible exception to that.’

  Tailby nodded, and the picture changed again, the camera coming in to a small area near the top of the dead girl’s right thigh. The assembled officers frowned and peered closer. A discolouration of the skin could be seen, some sort of bruising,p>

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  but bearing an oddly regular shape.

  ‘Mrs Van Door,’ said Tailby, ‘believes this injury probably occurred around the time of death.’

  The room stirred uneasily. Some of the officers were sweating,

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  and the atmosphere was becoming humid.

  The know you’re all anxious to get started,’ said Tailby, sensing the restlessness. ‘DI Hitchens will give you your action forms

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  very shortly. Bear with me for a few more minutes.’

  The picture disappeared from the wall behind the DCI, and some in the room breathed a sigh of relief.

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  ‘First of all, we are urgently enquiring into the whereabouts of one Lee Sherratt, aged twenty, recently employed as a gardener at the Mount. Details are in your files. But we also want to know about any other boyfriends Laura Vernon may have had a relationship with. Particularly those her parents might not have been aware of.’

  ‘Are we assuming the family are in the clear, sir?’ asked DS Rennic.

  ‘We never assume, Rennie,’ said the DCI with a little smile. ‘It makes an “ASS” out of “U” and “ME”.’

  Rennie paused for a moment, puzzled. Then someone sniggered, and he realized he had been put down.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said.

  ‘Both Graham and Charlotte Vernon will, of course, be interviewed again. There is also a brother, I believe, away at

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  university. Otherwise, we are told that Laura Vernon did not mix much with people in the village of Moorhay. This is what the parents tell us, at least. If that isn’t the case, it will be your job to find out. Meanwhile, the usual checks on all our known sex offenders are being carried out. We have DI Armstrong here from B Division, who will be coordinating that aspect of the enquiry.’

  The chief inspector indicated a female officer to one
side of the room. She was rather overweight and the grey suit she was wearing didn’t fit too well around her shoulders. Her dark hair was collar-length and cut very straight.

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  ‘Some of you may know that DI Armstrong has been working on the team investigating the death of Susan Edson near Buxton five weeks ago. Some of this ground has already been covered in B Division in the last few weeks, so we are avoiding duplication of effort.’

  Some of the officers shifted uneasily and looked sideways at each other. Tailby seemed to sense it, and responded. ‘For public consumption, there must be no suggestion of a link between these two cases. I do not want to hear the words “serial killer” mentioned by any member of this team or see them appearing in the press.’

  He looked to one side, glaring at a civilian wearing a suit,

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  a colourful tie and a pair of large, blue-framed spectacles. Fry pegged him as one oi die iotxe s press oiiicers, whose job it was to deflect press attention and distribute as little information about the case as possible.

  ‘All these lines of enquiry will take time, of course,’ said

  Tailbv. ‘And I don’t need to remind yon that the first hours

  are important.’

  Diane shee was busv studying DI Armstrong when Ben Cooper tentatively put his hand up again. Tailby regarded him with something like pity.

  ‘Yes, Cooper?’

  ‘Harry Dickinson, sir. The gentleman who found the trainer.’

  ‘Ah, the old bloke,’ said someone, breaking the tension.

  ‘With the dog,’ said someone else.

  ‘Will he be interviewed again, sir?’

  Fry wondered for a moment whether Cooper had seen her transcript of the first interview with Harry Dickinson and was taking the mickey out of the DCI. But Tailby obviously decided that it wasn’t Cooper’s style or intention.

  ‘Harry Dickinson is seventy-eight years old,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Cooper. ‘But we’re not assuming that his age rules him out. Are we, sir?’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Tailby. ‘We assume nothing.’

  There was a general shuffling of feet and scraping of chair legs.

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  Fry watched a female detective turn round to ask Ben Cooper if he was all right. She looked concerned, but he only nodded, keeping his eyes on the chief inspector. Fry noticed that there was a scuff mark on Cooper’s leather jacket and his tie needed straightening. He was really untidy, and it made him look disorganized. No way was he as perfect as everyone said he was.

  ‘One more thing I want to emphasize before you go,’ said Tailby, raising his voice over the noise. ‘Again, this is in your files, but keep it to the forefront of your minds, all of you. DC Cooper has mentioned the trainer found by Mr Dickinson and his dog, the find which led us to the body a short distance away. But there is one fact which could be vital to the enquiry. One thing which could lead to an early conclusion, if we are thorough with our routines — and if we get a little bit of luck. I

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  want you to remember, all of you, that Laura Vernon’s second Lrainci ib mining.’

  ‘All right. DC Fry, here, please.’

  Fry stepped briskly towards Hitchcns, where he leaned casually against the wall, dangling a leg over the edge of a desk. He had a stack of action forms in his hand, and Fry knew she was about to be allocated to an enquiry team.

  ‘You’re the new girl around here, Diane. So we’re going to

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  team you up with Ben Cooper for a while. He knows the area like the back of his hand.’

  ‘So I’ve heard.’

  ‘Well, we don’t want you going and getting lost on the moors, do we, Fry? We’d have to send the dogs out again.’

  Fry tried a smile and hoped it was convincing. ‘I’m sure we’ll work well together.’

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  Hitchens studied her. ‘You’ll get on all right,’ he said.

  ‘It’s OK.’

  ‘Right. DC Cooper! Where’s Ben Cooper gone?’

  ‘He had to take an urgent phone call, sir,’ said another

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  detective. ‘In the CID room.’

  ‘OK. Well, you two are in charge of house-to-house in Moorhay,’ said Hitchens. ‘There will be uniformed teams out there to assist you. These are the allocated areas. Make sure you don’t miss anybody.’

  He held out a photocopied street map divided into three sections with blue, red and yellow highlighter pens.

  ‘I’ll go and introduce myself to DC Cooper,’ said Fry. ‘If I can find the CID room.’

  Ben Cooper was hunched over a desk, staring at a sea of papersi that seemed to have accumulated during his holiday. He wasn’t

  reading the papers; in fact, he didn’t appear to see them at all.

  His face was completely blank as he listened to the voice at theI, other end of the phone.

  ‘I suppose so, if that’s what they think,’ he said. ‘But how,*;

  long for? Yes, I know Kate needs a break, but Matt —’}

  He saw the new DC coming from the far end of the CID room.|

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  She moved with a cool deliberateness, not meeting his eye, but glancing from side to side as she walked past the desks and filing cabinets, as if searching for evidence of misdemeanours among her absent colleagues. Cooper half expected to see her stoop to check for footprints in the carpets, or turn over an envelope to i-x.imine the address. She had a lean face and short fair hair, and she was very slim — slimmer than he had grown up to expect vomrn tn be. His mother would have said she was sickening for something. But she had a certain wiry look that suggested she was no weakling. No wilting violet, this one.

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  He had worked out who she was, of course. She was the one PC Garnett had told him about, the new DC who had come from the West Midlands with a reputation. Garnett had been almost right in his description. The only surprise was that she was actually quite attractive — though a smile, he thought, would help to relax her face and do something about the dark shadows in her eves.

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  ‘Yes, Matt. Yes, you’re right, I know. Two days, then. And we can talk about it properly on Thursday, OK? It just seems a long time to wrait.’

  The new DC had reached Cooper’s desk. She stood looking at the mess of papers, idly tapping the Moorhay file against her thigh. He turned away, shielding the phone. He knew it was obvious that the call was nothing to do with work. She would

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  recognize a personal call when she heard one. She probably thought he was discussing a girlfriend.

  He watched in amazement as she calmly took a seat and booted up his computer terminal, still without looking at him.

  ‘Hold on a minute, Matt.’

  He saw her start to smile as the computer came to life and she logged into the database. It allowed her into the first two

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  screens, but then threw up a dialogue box when she tried to extract some data.

  ‘You need a password,’ said Cooper.

  ‘What’s that?’ said Matt in his ear.

  ‘Nothing.’

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  ‘What is it then?’ she asked.

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  ‘I can’t just give it out. You need authority.’

  ‘Yeah? I’ll rind a way past it then.’

  She started tapping keys to get into the terminal settings, looking for the security program and the password function. A silver stud glinted in her ear where it wras exposed by a recent trim.

  ‘You’ll never get anywhere without knowing the proper password.’

  ‘Ben, if vou’re busy —’

  ‘Yes, look, Matt, I’ll have to go,’ said Cooper. Till speak to you tonight.’

  JO He replaced the phone, and didn’t look up for a moment, as if he was adjusting himself to something, preparing to face a whole new challenge.

  ‘Damn!’


  A ‘fatal error’ message was frozen on the computer screen. The terminal had objected to the unauthorized tinkering and had crashed.

  ‘I did tell you you’d get nowhere without the password,’ he snapped.

  ‘You’re my new partner,’ said Fry. ‘When you’re available, that is.’

  Cooper took a deep breath. ‘OK. Hi, I’m Ben Cooper. You must be DC shee.’

  He waited for her to say something else. He didn’t know her first name yet.

  ‘My friends call me Diane.’

  He nodded cautiously, noting the ambiguity of the message. ‘What are we up for?’

  ‘House-to-house with some woodentops.’

  ‘Don’t let them hear you call them that.’

  Fry shrugged. ‘We could get going, if you’re ready. I’m only the new girl, but I understand murder enquiries are usually considered quite important.’

  ‘All right, I’m ready.’

  In the corridor, DI Hitchens called them back.

  ‘I’ll be out for another briefing and to take your reports myself at the end of the morning,’ he said. ‘There’s a pub in Moorhay, isn’t there, Cooper?’

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  ‘The Drover, sir.’

  ‘MarsLoa’s, I seemed to notice when we went through the village yesterday.’

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  That’s right.’

  ‘We’ll rendezvous there then — let’s say twelve-thirtv. And Ben …”

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘Don’t be late, will you?’

  ‘Sorry about that, sir. Family problems.’

  ‘It’s not like you. Don’t make a habit of it.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘One more thing everybody needs to know. Mr Tailby pointed out how important these first few hours of an enquiry are. We all know that. But don’t get too carried away when your shift

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  is finished. There’s no more overtime.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘There’s no cash in the budget. The top floor think we can get a result without it.’

  ‘It’s crazy,’ said Cooper.