the farm. But you must know that; you’ll have checked.’
‘Of course. But during your courtesy visits, did you meet any of the itinerant workers employed there? Did you have any reason to wonder what had happened to any of them?’
‘You’re presumably thinking of the women? You don’t say so, but it’s obvious. Your theory is that one of the workers was killed during her employment there and buried on the farm. No — two of them?’ Palfreyman’s eyes twinkled. ‘Interesting theory. Two murders, both of which went undetected. And three years apart, if the media have it right.’
‘Approximately,’ said Fry, through audibly gritted teeth.
‘Careful, Sergeant, you’re almost revealing information. Not quite, but it
Cooper could sense that Fry was likely to stop playing the game soon. She wasn’t long on patience, and Palfreyman was pushing her close to the limit. The ex-bobby wouldn’t like it if he saw her other side.
‘I can’t remember whether you asked me how long ago I retired,’ he said, in a more conciliatory tone. Perhaps he, too, was able to recognize that look in Fry’s eye. ‘I’ll tell you anyway — I hit my thirty just over four years ago. Celebrations all round, kind words from the chief, a bunch of the lads getting pissed at the pub. And then I was out of the door, with my pension in my pocket. And no one ever thought of Dave Palfreyman again. I was history as soon as I handed in my warrant card.’
‘Your point is …?’
‘I wasn’t in the job when your murders happened, Sergeant. If they
‘You’re not my DI,’ said Fry.
‘No.’
‘Well, stop talking to me as if you are.’
Palfreyman inclined his head. ‘I apologize. Sergeant.’
An uneasy silence developed. Cooper shifted uncomfortably in his chair, desperately wanting to say something to break the silence, but afraid of wrecking Fry’s strategy. Presuming she had a strategy. But she could keep silent as long as she needed to, and it was Palfreyman who broke the mood.
‘You went to see the Brindleys over at Shaw Farm yesterday, didn’t you?’ he said.
‘Very observant. You know them?’
Palfreyman nodded. ‘Yes, I know them. Alex and Jo. They have two teenage kids, Chrissie and Evan. The parents are kind of snobbish, academically speaking.’
‘They’re a bit fussy who their children mix with?’
‘Fussy? Any kid who wants to visit their house has to take an entrance exam. Stand-offish, the Brindleys are. Stuck up. You probably noticed.’
Fry didn’t smile. ‘You seem to know a lot more about them than they do about you.’
Palfreyman shrugged. ‘That’s the way it is. That’s the way I like it, if the truth be known.’
‘They’re not local people, are they? I mean, they haven’t been in Rakedale very long?’
‘I know what you mean.’ Palfreyman eased himself into his armchair, like an old dog settled into its basket. ‘Well, they’ve lived in the village since they were married. And the oldest kid, Evan, is eighteen. So they must have been here twenty years or so. Not very long, as Rakedale goes.’
‘Twenty years?’
‘As a family, that is.’
He looked at her expectantly, inviting her to ask the next question. No, that wasn’t what she was getting from his expression. He was
‘One of them was here in the village before they married?’ she said. ‘Alex or Jo?’
‘Jo. She was Joanne Stubbs before she married. And that house they live in is hers — she inherited it from an aunt. She was only a lass when she first came to Rakedale, hardly into her twenties. I remember it well. Bit of a hippy, she was. All crystals and meditation. God knows where she picked that stuff up from. It certainly wasn’t from her aunt, or any of the other Stubbs family round here. They were all chapel-goers.’
‘So Jo actually is a village person. She said she wasn’t.’
‘Well, she’s right,’ said Palfreyman. ‘Joanne Stubbs has never fitted in, and never will. She knows that perfectly well.’
Fry was trying to play along with the ex-PC’s game. ‘There’s some kind of history here. What has Jo done to upset the village?’
‘Well, when she first came to Rakedale, some of the local people thought she was a bit strange. They didn’t really take to her tarot cards and joss sticks, all that rubbish. Not to mention the stuff she kept trying to force on to people if she thought they showed signs of being ill. Herbal remedies, she called them. Me, I reckon they were mostly based on cannabis, but I never took any action on that suspicion. I never knew anyone accept her remedies, or it might have been different. I suppose you think I was wrong in that?’
Neither Cooper nor Fry reacted. He looked slightly disappointed, but went back to his story.
‘And there were all those cats she had, as well. Too many cats to be natural. A woman living out there on her own? You can imagine what the gossips were saying about her.’
‘Only too well,’ said Cooper.
‘Anyway, one day she came home from doing her shopping in Bakewell, and her house had been broken into. It looked as though nothing had been stolen. But she thought the intruders must still be in the house, because she could hear noises somewhere. Not voices exactly. She described what she called surreptitious bumps and whisperings, scraping sounds and scratches. Sensibly, she called the police and got herself back outside the house to wait. When the FOAs went upstairs, they found three crows flapping about in her bedroom.’
Cooper shivered. He knew what that meant. It was the old warning against witches. Until now, he thought it had died out in the eighteenth century. Someone in Rakedale had a long, long memory to remember that custom. And an even deeper well of superstition to consider putting it into practice.
‘What did you do?’ he asked. ‘I mean, I take it you were one of those officers responding to the emergency call?’
‘Aye. And a young lad who turned up from Edendale to assist. He was a bit wet behind the ears, but he had a bit of sense. He knew enough to leave everything to me.’
‘Like a good young copper.’
‘Like some, anyway,’ said Palfreyman, giving him a sly look.
‘And so …?’
‘We got rid of the crows without much damage. Just a few splodges of shit on the carpet, and she soon got that cleaned up. Then we checked over the house to see it was secure, and we left. Called it in as a false alarm. Listed as NFA.’
‘No further action?’
‘Not officially. Well, there aren’t many folk who have the know-how and the wherewithal to catch a set of crows, not to mention the nerve to turn them loose in someone’s house. I called and had a few words. It never happened again.’
‘But didn’t Mrs Brindley want to report the break-in?’
‘Look, you have to understand something about the eighties,’ said Palfreyman. ‘We were allowed to use our discretion then, and no one asked any questions, provided you got the job done. It meant we did things you would never dare do. You’d be too afraid of getting your arse kicked and losing your pension.’ He glanced sideways at Fry. ‘Or not getting that promotion you want so badly, eh?’
‘All right, it was different back then. We get the message.’
‘Well, just don’t judge me on your own terms. In those days, we always knew who needed a quiet word in the ear, and who needed something a bit more … robust.’
‘You’re living in a dream world,’ said Cooper. ‘Those days have been over a long time. You joined the force in — when was it, 1972?’
‘That’s right. The blokes who taught me the job were old school. But they’d all gone by the time I retired.’
‘That old-fashioned coppering had already disappeared in the eighties. My dad complained about it often
