Blind to the Bones Page 39

  ‘Yes, you’re right.’

  ‘Have you ever felt that line was crossed in your family, Ben? What about between you and your brother?’

  ‘I can’t imagine it.’

  Fry was quiet for a while. He could see she was still thinking about it. She was turning over in her mind all those possible circumstances that might arise between members of a family, between people forced together by the circumstances of being related. She had asked him about his relationship with Matt. But it seemed to Cooper that she had to be thinking about her own relationship with her sister, Angie. It would be unnatural if she weren’t.

  ‘It’s great to be part of a family,’ said Cooper. ‘We all feel the need to belong to a family, a tribe, a team or whatever. But the problem with belonging is that, if you get rejected by your family or your team, it really, really hurts. Rejection is the end of the world then, because you’re getting rejection from the very people you expected support from. A lot of people can’t deal with that.’

  ‘It can be a pretty harsh form of rejection, I suppose.’

  ‘When wild packs of dogs reject one of their own members, they drive it away from food sources and leave it to die.’

  ‘Well, thanks, David Attenborough.’

  ‘A pleasure.’

  Fry changed the subject. ‘And what do you think the Reverend Alton is keeping to himself?’

  ‘You think he is?’

  ‘Are you losing your instincts, Ben? It’s obvious he knows something, or suspects something. But he’s the kind who keeps confidences.’ She looked hard at Cooper. ‘He’s the kind who’ll keep a secret until it’s too late.’

  Peak Water was a small operation, which surely couldn’t survive much longer without being swallowed up by one of the larger companies that had come to dominate water supply since privatization. Its offices in Glossop occupied the upper floors of a timber-framed building near the town’s market square. There was a building society on the ground floor.

  Ben Cooper had made an appointment with someone called J. P. Venables. The medieval appearance of the building’s black-and-white timbers must have given him false expectations. To his surprise, Venables turned out to be a man in his thirties, not much older than Cooper himself, but rather overweight, as if he had done a sedentary job all his life. He had shed his suit jacket to reveal a waistcoat with fancy coloured panels, and he wore glasses with tiny rectangular frames.

  ‘Waterloo Terrace,’ he said, ‘is not the most prestigious property in our portfolio.’

  ‘They were originally railway workers’ houses, weren’t they?’ said Cooper.

  ‘Yes. But of course they weren’t required after the stations closed, and they were taken over by Peak Water, which also owns most of the land up there.’

  ‘I’m interested in your tenants at Waterloo Terrace. Particularly members of the Oxley family.’

  Venables smiled. ‘Now, there’s a surprise. I must be psychic.’

  ‘Sir?’

  He pointed to a stack of manila files that lay ready on his desk. ‘As soon as I heard the words “Waterloo Terrace” and “police”, I found my hand moving of its own accord towards the “O” section of my filing cabinet. I wonder how that happened? It’s uncanny.’

  ‘You’ve had a lot of dealings with the Oxleys?’

  ‘Hasn’t everybody?’

  ‘Did you know some of their neighbours in Withens have made complaints about them?’ said Cooper.

  Venables hesitated. ‘Yes, we’ve had a few complaints, which we’ve spoken to Mr Oxley about.’

  ‘Some of the boys have been in court several times.’

  ‘If there was substantial evidence that they were causing a nuisance to their neighbours, then we might have to take action under their tenancy agreement.’

  ‘You could evict them then?’

  ‘In certain circumstances, yes.’

  ‘I think that’s what some of their neighbours would like.’

  ‘We keep the situation under review. We have to, if we keep getting complaints. But it’s only the immediate neighbours that are our concern. Other tenants of ours.’

  ‘But all the Oxleys live next door to each other. They only have one immediate neighbour in Waterloo Terrace.’

  ‘Well, of course, that’s quite convenient for everyone,’ said Venables.

  ‘Convenient?’

  ‘Mmm.’

  Venables leaned back in his chair. He looked too relaxed. The water company man had shiny nostrils. When he tilted his head up towards Cooper, he felt as though he was caught in the glare.

  ‘Every time you get a complaint, does someone speak to Lucas Oxley about it?’ asked Cooper.

  ‘We try to. There’s quite a dossier of reports now. I suppose I could get permission for you to see them if you wanted to. But from what I recall, the interviews with Mr Oxley aren’t terribly enlightening.’

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind. But I think I can imagine the sort of responses you got.’

  ‘There’s Oxley and his wife, and the old man, and all those other members of his family. They seem to form a sort of barrier around themselves, and no amount of argument or appeals to common sense will get through.’

  ‘Has Lucas Oxley ever accused Peak Water of being part of some conspiracy against him and his family?’

  ‘I believe that accusation appears in the reports a few times,’ said Venables.

  ‘It’s understandable, don’t you think?’

  ‘No. What do you mean? There’s no conspiracy.’

  ‘I mean, it’s understandable that it should seem that way to the Oxleys. To them, it must look as though everyone is against them, and no one is on their side.’

  Venables shrugged. ‘I can’t help that. They’ve only themselves to blame, after all.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Cooper. ‘Hasn’t anyone tried explaining this to the Oxleys?’

  ‘We’ve written to them several times,’ said Venables.

  ‘And?’

  ‘We’ve never had a reply.’

  ‘But did nobody call on Lucas Oxley to talk to him personally?’

  ‘Well, you’ve seen yourself what he’s like. He sent our man away with a flea in his ear and threatened to set the dog on him.’

  ‘He probably didn’t understand what it was you wanted.’

  ‘His behaviour was extremely unreasonable. We would have been within our rights to involve the police at that stage. People can’t go around being abusive and threatening to our staff. The company has a responsibility to its employees.’

  ‘And did you involve the police?’

  ‘No. We gave Mr Oxley another chance.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘We wrote to him again.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘We warned him about his behaviour in the clearest terms and told him that he was in breach of his tenancy agreement. We gave him ten days to contact us to arrange a meeting at which the situation could be discussed. We told him we hoped it could be settled amicably on both sides.’

  ‘To which I suppose you got no reply?’

  ‘No. So then we sent him a final warning. Same result. So, regretfully, we began court proceedings.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘You have to realize that this thing has gone on for months and months. We do try to be patient, but we really haven’t the time to be dealing with people like the Oxleys, who refuse to see sense. Whatever the consequences are for the family from here on, they will have brought it on themselves, I’m afraid.’

  ‘So you said.’

  Venables shrugged again. ‘We’ve followed the proper procedures, every step of the way. We’ve bent over backwards to accommodate the Oxleys and come to some mutually acceptable arrangement with them. They can have no grounds for complaint about the way the company has dealt with them. Court proceedings were a last resort.’

  ‘What about the question of the water catchment area? Is Waterloo Terrace a problem? I understand there was a farm that had to
be moved recently.’

  ‘Withens is quite different from Crowden,’ said Venables. ‘The farm had a flock of over a thousand sheep. Besides, it was right by the A628, and there were safety concerns about slow-moving tractors and agricultural machinery having to use a busy road like that, with heavy traffic on it all the time. There’s no comparison to the situation at Withens.’

  ‘Has the situation been explained properly to the Oxleys?’

  ‘Mmm. Well, I have to admit that communication might not have been as good as it should be. The fact is, there’s been a bit of a problem over jurisdiction.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘We’ve been experiencing a difference of opinion with South Yorkshire over where responsibilities lie. We don’t seem to be able to resolve the situation very easily, I’m afraid. It’s causing rather a delay.’

  ‘So the Oxleys slip through the cracks while you argue among yourselves.’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that.’

  ‘I would.’

  ‘As you like. But there are procedures to be followed, and rules to be observed. We can’t just go trampling on someone else’s territory without being confident of our position. There could be legal repercussions. We have to be very careful, otherwise the company’s interests could be compromised.’

  ‘There’s another terrace of houses down there, isn’t there?’

  ‘Yes, Trafalgar Terrace. They’re void properties.’

  ‘Void? That’s a good word for it. I’d call them derelict. They look like a health hazard to me.’

  ‘They’re earmarked for action in the near future,’ said Venables stiffly.

  ‘So neither the Oxleys nor anyone else has tenancy of the empty houses?’

  ‘No. I told you, they’re void. Why?’

  ‘We may wish to search Trafalgar Terrace. Do we have your permission for that, sir?’

  ‘Of course. But you’ll have to be quick.’

  ‘Why? Is there something you’re not telling me, sir?’

  ‘Our contractors will be moving in very soon to start work.’

  ‘You’re repairing the houses?’

  ‘Demolishing them,’ said Venables.

  Cooper stared at him. It was an obvious thing to do, really. In fact, it should have been done a long time ago. But it seemed like another sign of that impermanence that Tracy Udall had put her finger on. It was another bit of Withens about to disappear.

  ‘How did you come to rent all the houses in Waterloo Terrace to members of the Oxley family?’ said Cooper.

  ‘I know it looks a little unusual. If the properties were to fall vacant now, I don’t think it would happen again. The company would be looking to increase the rents substantially, for a start. But at the time it was thought there was no demand for rented properties in Withens. So the company decided to leave the old policy in place – the policy that tenancies could be passed on to members of the same family. It’s a very old principle, designed to ensure a worker’s family wasn’t turned out on to the street if the man himself was killed during his employment. The early proprietors were concerned about their employees’ welfare. They were almost philanthropists.’

  ‘Compared to the present owners, you mean?’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly comment.’

  ‘Property values have changed in Withens in recent years, I suppose?’

  ‘There’s still a shortage of demand for rental properties. But the company has been approached by a private developer interested in purchasing the entire row of houses.’

  ‘You mean the company is going to sell Waterloo Terrace?’

  ‘It makes sound commercial sense.’

  ‘But new owners would have to take on the sitting tenants, wouldn’t they?’

  ‘Of course. The tenants have rights that are protected by law.’

  Cooper studied Venables. So often he found himself trying to hear the words that people weren’t saying, because that’s where the true meaning lay. But there was more than one communication gap involved in the Withens case. In fact, there were as many communication gaps as there were combinations of people trying to communicate with each other. The result was a Babel in his head.

  ‘New landlords would mean big changes for the Oxleys, wouldn’t they, Mr Venables?’ he said.

  ‘Well, undoubtedly,’ said Venables, with a smile. ‘Undoubtedly.’

  ‘And do you know what the new owners plan for Waterloo Terrace?’

  ‘Oh yes, I know.’

  ‘Demolition?’

  ‘I imagine that would be the preferred option.’

  ‘But they can’t demolish the houses with sitting tenants, can they?’

  ‘Of course not. As I said, they’re protected.’

  ‘So the Oxleys would need to be got out of Waterloo Terrace in some way.’

  ‘To make it worthwhile for the developers, yes. But I’m not suggesting there’s any kind of conspiracy to intimidate them and get them out. That would be unethical.’

  ‘Not to mention illegal.’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘It seems to me that no one is making much effort to keep the Oxleys in their homes, either.’

  Venables shrugged again. Cooper was starting to get irritated by the shrug. Of all the complacent gestures that people were capable of, the shrug was the second most annoying, after the smirk.

  ‘We believe they’ve done some unauthorized structural alterations. That will probably be the clincher,’ said Venables. ‘They’re their own worst enemies, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I know. But that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve to have any friends.’

  ‘Oh? And are you intending to fill that role? A friend of the Oxleys? I know that police work is different these days from what it used to be. But is that really your job?’

  Cooper gritted his teeth. Of course it wasn’t his job. He didn’t need Venables to tell him that. He had Diane Fry to do it for him.

  ‘If I were you, I’d choose my friends more carefully,’ said Venables.

  And then he smirked.

  32

  DC Gavin Murfin looked mournfully at the remains of a vanilla slice on his desk. Its enticing yellow smile had disintegrated into a few dusty flakes of pastry before his eyes.

  ‘No signs of a previous diary,’ he said. ‘No likely looking randy art lecturers. That Stark girl laughed at me when I tried her with some names. She has a colourful turn of phrase, for a lass.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, Gavin,’ said Diane Fry.

  ‘Doesn’t matter?’

  ‘Not now.’

  ‘I spent hours on that.’

  ‘If Emma Renshaw arrived back in Withens, the person we’re looking for is a lot closer to home than Birmingham Art School.’

  ‘Right,’ said Murfin. ‘You’re right.’

  He considered it for a moment. ‘Tell you what,’ he said, ‘the day Emma went missing … Do we know Howard Renshaw’s exact movements that day?’

  Ben Cooper was remembering the man from the Sunday-morning crowd at Somerfield’s supermarket. Last Sunday, he had been trying to tell some story about distraction burglaries in the Southwoods area, and Cooper hadn’t been taking much notice. It had sounded pretty small-scale stuff, which someone else would be dealing with, thank goodness. But perhaps he should have listened more carefully. Hadn’t the old man mentioned an incident involving genuine antiques? ‘They must have driven right past my window to get to Southwoods Grange.’

  And what else had he been saying? Cooper thought about Golden Delicious apples and pineapple chunks for a few seconds before he got it. Car registration numbers.

  On Friday afternoon there was a totally different crowd in the supermarket. And many of the staff were different, too. Cooper introduced himself at the duty manager’s office and got permission to speak to the checkout assistants and the bag packers, the trolley collectors and the woman at the cigarette counter. One of the older staff on the checkouts thought she remembered the man with the walking stick, but
had no idea of his name. She said he was a customer who always paid cash.

  ‘And he always comes in on Sunday, I think,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, he does.’

  ‘Like you, in fact.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘You’re the frozen meals for one and the Boddington’s six-packs, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I never knew you were police.’

  Cooper moved on. All he had achieved was to let the checkout assistant know more about him than she did about the man with the walking stick.

  This afternoon, the supermarket’s frozen meat section looked unnervingly like the postmortem room at a giant morgue, with frozen body parts stacked in freezers, neatly packaged and labelled. Fortunately, these weren’t human parts, but bits hacked off cows and sheep and pigs. He could understand why people became vegetarians. Perhaps the trick was not to look closely – to see only the price label on the plastic packages and the ‘best before’ date, not the reality of the meat and bones underneath.

  Outside, he tried to remember which way the man went when he left the supermarket. Often, he walked with Cooper to his car and talked to him while he loaded up his shopping. Then Cooper would say goodbye, get in his car and drive towards the exit. Had he ever noticed which way the man with the stick went?

  He had a brief recollection of being held up at the lights by traffic one morning and seeing the man waiting at the pedestrian crossing with his shopping bag on wheels to cross to the corner of Eyre Street. From there, he would have only a short walk to the bus stops in front of the town hall, where there were services running to all the areas on the eastern and northern sides of Edendale. It was no help at all.

  Back in the office at West Street, Cooper found the rest of the DCs already busy on the phones. He sat down at his desk opposite Gavin Murfin, whose head was bent over some notes in his pocket book that he was trying to transcribe on to a pile of forms. Murfin looked up, shook his head at Cooper in an exaggerated way and sucked his breath through his teeth.

  ‘Late, Mr Cooper? You’ll be in trouble. It’s a good job Miss is in a meeting.’

  ‘There was just something I had to do.’