‘To put it plainly, ladies and gentlemen, if you left a body out on a slope to decompose — the head might just roll away.’
Cooper had been considering the anthropologist’s presentation as the rest of the team dispersed and went about their tasks for the day.
‘Diane, do you think we could analyse the chemical content of the bones to get an angle on her origins?’ he said. ‘I’ve heard that it’s possible.’
‘You know we don’t have facilities for anything like that, Ben.’
‘But the FSS might. Or a university somewhere.’
‘It would take months and months. And besides — ’
‘- it would cost a lot of money. I know.’
‘Think budgets, Ben. The fact is, this will probably remain an unsolved case.’
‘No. You’re joking.’
‘If there were any leads at all, any sure indication of a cause of death that suggested murder, or even a confirmed ID that we could work with … But, as it is, we have nothing. We could faff around here for months and still have nothing.’
‘We can’t just leave it, with these two women unidentified.’
‘We might have to,’ said Fry.
‘No.’
‘Look, how many cases have you got on your desk at the moment, Ben?’
‘Well …’
‘Five, six? A dozen? Wouldn’t you stand more chance of getting results if you spent your time on some of those? I bet there are people shouting for statements and case files.’
‘Yes, there are. There
‘Well, then.’
Cooper was silent. He could see that Fry thought she’d won the argument by sheer, unassailable logic. Budgets, and case loads. Who could argue with those? It wouldn’t be prudent to say what he was thinking right now.
Half an hour later, Gavin Murfin was able to spring a surprise on his colleagues in the CID room.
‘By the way,’ he said. ‘I see Derek Sutton had a criminal record. I found him on the PNC.’
Fry sat up with sudden interest. ‘Oh?’
‘Illegal fuel. He was using laundered red diesel.’
‘A typical rural crime.’
Cooper walked over to Murfin’s desk and looked at the file.
‘A prosecution was brought against Derek Sutton by HM Customs and Excise, following a spot check at the cattle market in Ashbourne. A hefty fine. That was an expensive day out for him.’
Red diesel was normally used in farm machinery, and it was illegal to use it in road vehicles, because it wasn’t taxed. To evade detection, the more enterprising removed the red dye, producing what was called laundered diesel. The Customs and Excise checks would show that up. But Sutton had only been charged with use, not with laundering. He must have known of a source somewhere. Probably everyone did.
‘The Hydrocarbon Oil Duties Act,’ said Fry. ‘“
As always, Cooper was impressed by the efficiency of her mental filing cabinet. He’d almost heard the correct drawer clicking open.
‘Well remembered.’
‘It’s another subsidy for farmers,’ she said. ‘Enshrined in the law, no less. They pay less tax for their fuel than ordinary mortals.’
‘Well, not really. If their farm vehicles never go on the road, they don’t contribute to wear and tear, do they? And they don’t use other facilities on the roads. So why should they be taxed for their maintenance and repair?’
‘You won’t convince me that they don’t go on the roads. I’ve got trapped behind enough farm vehicles to know differently.’
Cooper shrugged. ‘If I recollect the intelligence, Customs have suspected that a diesel-laundering plant might be operating in this area. Do you remember the operation that was closed down in Northern Ireland? It was being run from a converted hay shed at a remote farm.’
‘Like I said, a typical rural crime. These people think they can get away with anything because nobody is watching over them.’
‘You’ve really got it in for farmers at the moment, haven’t you?’ said Cooper. ‘What’s brought this on?’
‘Spending time in Rakedale,’ said Fry. ‘It’s enough to make anyone bitter and twisted.’
Cooper shook his head in despair. Fry was almost a lost cause. He would have to introduce her to Matt some time, and see what happened. The results would be interesting, if nothing else. Two jaundiced personalities clashing head-on. The thought was enough to make him shudder.
Tractors were the main agricultural vehicles to fall under the ‘exempted’ definition of the Act. The duty rate for rebated red diesel was about a tenth of the duty for normal road vehicles. In the Northern Ireland case, twelve large tanks had been used to take dye from red diesel and convert it into white diesel that could be used by motorists. The price difference was about two pounds per gallon, and forty thousand litres of fuel had been contained in storage tanks at that laundering unit on the farm in Northern Ireland. Good money to be made, then.
But it wasn’t advisable from the motorist’s point of view. Apart from the risk of prosecution, the acids used in the laundering process would wreck the fuel pumps in diesel engines, so buyers of cheap fuel ran the risk of causing long-term damage to their vehicles.
Much closer to home, Customs and Excise had dipped most of the tanks of people attending a horsey event at Chatsworth a while ago. They were looking for anyone ‘running red’. C amp;E were wise to dual tanks and every other trick. They would also sample the fuel at the injectors and relied on chemical tracers. The dye could be removed with absorbents, but the tracers couldn’t. And, if they caught you, the fines were big.
A few gallons in the four-by-four, or a few miles on the road to take some cattle to market in the pick-up now and then. They seemed like no big deal. But it would still mean a large fine if you were caught.
Cooper searched for details of the Irish case. From the farm, the raid had also recovered a generator, pumps, and storage equipment. In addition, thirty-seven tonnes of toxic contaminated sludge, the hazardous chemical residue of the laundering process, were cleared from the site, which had livestock and an inhabited farm dwelling nearby. Subsequent warnings had been issued about the damage caused by contamination to arable land and our water and rivers.
For some reason, Cooper was reminded of Raymond Sutton.
‘Diane,’ he said, ‘there was a Bible on the table in the farmhouse.’
‘Yes?’
‘Could it be released? Raymond Sutton was asking for it.’
‘I can’t see any problem with that. Make sure you record it.’
‘Of course.’
Fry looked at him quizzically. ‘So, are you starting to feel any kinship to these people at Rakedale yet?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I know what you’re like, Ben. Before long, you’ll start feeling sorry for someone, and you’ll end up making promises you can’t keep. It’s a mistake to promise anything to a member of the public, you know. Don’t let them know your sympathies at all. Keep your feelings to yourself.’
‘I know, I know.’
‘You might know the theory, but it’s the practice you find difficult, isn’t it?’
Cooper bit his lip and moved back to his desk. Fry spotted the flier in his out tray, advertising the carol concert by the male voice choir, which would be followed by a children’s party. There were going to be mince pies and mulled wine, and even a visit by Santa.
‘Doing good work for the community again? Very commendable. You’re not going to play Father Christmas
