Underwood hesitated. ‘Yes, a few.’
‘Did you report them to the police?’
‘No, we didn’t take it too seriously. And we’re hardly going to take our customers to court over something like that. Business is difficult enough as it is.’
‘I wonder if you kept any on file?’
‘No, I’m sure we didn’t. Why are you asking?’
‘Because we had one about Robert Nield, after the death of his daughter,’ said Cooper. ‘You haven’t heard about it? The letter was mentioned in the Eden Valley Times.’
‘We don’t get it here,’ said Underwood. ‘It’s the good old ANT — the Ashbourne News Telegraph.’
‘Of course. Well, if I had any idea who wrote it, that would help me.’
Underwood sighed, and looked faintly guilty.
‘I’m afraid that would probably be my mother. She has religion issues.’
‘How bad?’
‘Oh, bad. Basically, she believes that she’s one of the chosen. When the Apocalypse comes, she’ll get called up to Heaven in the Rapture, leaving nothing but an empty heap of clothes and the rest of us poor buggers burning in Hell.’
‘That affects her social interactions, I suppose.’
‘Oh, yeah. She won’t hardly speak to you, unless you’re among the chosen. You know, the way she looks at people sometimes — it’s as if they’re already burning, and she’s quite content that they deserve every second of the agony.’
‘Not the most congenial of neighbours, then.’
‘No.’
Then Underwood started to chuckle to himself.
‘What are you laughing at?’ asked Cooper.
‘Just a thought that popped into my head. They talk about “neighbours from Hell”, don’t they? But maybe a neighbour from Heaven could be every bit as bad.’
‘Is she at home?’
‘No, she works at Moy Park — the poultry company on the industrial estate over there.’
‘If I could be sure it was her…’
‘Handwriting that looks like a spider’s crawled across the page? Threats that God will wreak his vengeance on the wicked sinners?’
‘That’s about it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘She took a major objection to Bob Nield over the Sean Deacon business, blamed him personally for introducing wickedness. Getting rid of Deacon wasn’t enough for her. She practically crossed herself with garlic every time she saw Bob. You know, like you do with the Devil.’
‘Vampires maybe,’ said Cooper.
‘Funny that,’ said Underwood, with a small smile. ‘I always thought Bob Nield had a look of Christopher Lee about him. He’d make a good Count Dracula.’
Robert Nield looked at the photograph Cooper showed him, the shot of himself and Sean Deacon standing a few feet apart on the banks of the River Dove, below the limestone spur.
‘It’s not possible,’ he said. ‘That never happened.’
‘The evidence is there, sir.’
‘Where did you get this from?’
‘Does that matter?’
Nield was sweating inside the car. They were sitting in Cooper’s Toyota at the Dovedale car park. It had seemed preferable to making a nuisance of himself at their home in Ashbourne again, where he was starting to wear out his welcome. This might be something that Dawn and the rest of the family didn’t need to know about. There was no point in piling on the agony when it wasn’t necessary.
‘It’s true that I helped Sean Deacon out when he needed a job,’ said Nield. ‘He came to the store for an interview, and I was impressed with him. He was always open and honest about his background. I did my best for him, but it didn’t work out. That’s all.’
‘But you’ve been in contact with him since then, haven’t you?’
‘No. Well…’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘He phoned me at home last night. He was pretty upset. He told me he’d lost his job at the hotel.’
‘They sacked him from the Grand?’
‘Yes. He said it was because he’d been interviewed by the police again.’
‘That would have been me,’ said Cooper.
‘Well, he said people were talking, and the management didn’t like it. The same old story, I’m afraid. He’ll never be able to put his life back together, no matter how hard he tries.’
‘Why did Deacon phone you?’
‘Because I’m the only person who’s ever tried to help him.’
Cooper wondered if it was as simple as that. Could there be more to the relationship between Deacon and Nield, a comradeship made from shared interests? Paedophiles and child abusers had to find their friends where they could get them. They forged strong bonds in the face of adversity, like soldiers under fire.
He tapped the photograph again. ‘But you met him here in Dovedale on Monday, didn’t you sir? There’s hardly any point in denying it.’
Nield opened his mouth to speak, closed it again.
‘Are you going to arrest me?’ he said. ‘Because if you are, I’m not saying anything until I can speak to a solicitor.’
‘Of course not. We wouldn’t want it any other way, sir. We have rules here, you know. Codes of Practice, the Police and Criminal Evidence Act. All for your protection.’
Nield looked confused. He’d probably watched too many detective dramas on TV, and been misled by all those scenes where the suspect was left sweating in a bare room, bullied and shouted at until he broke down and confessed. Sometimes those TV programmes were useful. They raised false expectations, and people were disorientated when they encountered the real thing. Many a first-time offender had discovered that police officers were real human beings, who treated you with politeness and consideration, brought you a cup of tea and asked how you felt. The British character couldn’t resist that treatment. It was only fair to be polite in return and tell the nice policeman what he wanted to know.
There were regulars who knew the score, of course. Hard cases who were doing the ‘no comment’ bit even before you got them in the van. But Robert Nield wasn’t one of those. Cooper was willing to bet that he’d never been in a police station in his life.
‘Look,’ said Nield. ‘If you’re not going to arrest me, let’s walk along the river to the place where that photograph is supposed to have been taken.’
Cooper hesitated. He didn’t want to go near the river again. The thought of it was disturbing, the water seemed to fill his eyes and mouth the moment he thought about it. He shuddered, knew that what Nield was suggesting made sense.
‘All right.’
They walked in silence past the stepping stones, alongside the weirs, and skirted the grassy spur of Lovers’ Leap to reach a spot close to the Natural Arch and Reynard’s Cave. Cooper stayed as far as he could from the bank, trying to shut out the sound of the rushing water.
‘About here, I think,’ said Nield.
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘You know, these rocks in used to be coral reefs, when this part of Derbyshire was under a tropical sea. It took millennia for water and wind to eat away the limestone and form those caves and arches, and leave the harder rock projecting from the valley. That arch was originally the mouth of a cavern until the roof fell in.’
‘Your point is?’ said Cooper.
‘It used to take thousands of years to change the shape of a landscape like this. Now we can change it in a few minutes — with the help of a computer.’
