Dying to Sin

‘Hold on, who else was there when this happened?’

‘As well as me and Derek? Just his brother, Raymond.’

‘What about Alan?’

Elder hesitated. ‘Alan?’

‘We do know about Alan, the third brother,’ said Cooper.

‘Ah, well, I never really knew that one. He was gone by the time this happened. They always said he couldn’t stand living with the other two, and you can see why.’

‘All right. So Derek was angry about the bird in his car?’

‘Angry? I’ve never seen a bloke so mad in all my life. Like a wild thing, he was. Smashed his fist right through my jaw.’

‘He broke your jaw?’ said Cooper.

‘Aye. Why do you think I have this beard? They took days putting my face back together.’

‘So what happened? Was there a charge of assault against Derek Sutton? It would be grievous bodily harm, surely?’

Elder went suddenly quiet, his eyes wary. ‘No, nothing like that.’

‘But you did report the assault, Mr Elder?’

‘Raymond did. It was him that called the police, and the ambulance. But there were never any charges.’

Watching his manner change, Cooper guessed the answer to his next question.

‘What was the name of the police officer who dealt with the incident?’

Elder stared at him, a question of his own clear in his eyes. But he evidently read what he wanted from Cooper’s face, and realized he wasn’t giving away any information that Cooper didn’t already know.

‘PC Palfreyman turned up. He said he’d sort it out himself, the way he always did.’

29

Cooper had no choice but to go to his DI with the results of his interview. Hitchens had just received the results of the postmortem on Tom Farnham, and he was ready to hear some good news.

‘Blunt-force trauma from a severe beating,’ he said. ‘Blows to the arms and legs produced contusions and haematomas, and the radius of the left arm was fractured. Further blows to the chest caused extensive bruising, and an injury to the abdomen had damaged the spleen. And that’s before we get on to the penetrating trauma from two bullet wounds, one of which was actually what killed him.’

‘They wanted to make a proper job of it,’ said Cooper.

‘More than that. They didn’t just kill him, Ben, they were sending a message.’

‘Yes, I see.’

‘And I bet everyone in Rakedale has received the message loud and clear. Not that they needed any encouragement to keep their mouths shut, by all accounts.’

‘No, sir,’ said Cooper. ‘Except …’

Hollowbrook Cottage was low lying enough to avoid the hill mist that was clinging to the plateau now that the rain had stopped. Palfreyman was raking dead leaves from his path, and heaping the damp, black mass into a compost bin. He dropped his rake when the car turned into his drive and came forward to meet them. He led them into the house with hardly a word.

‘Mr Palfreyman,’ said Hitchens, opening the conversation, ‘you’ve told my officers that you visited Pity Wood Farm on several occasions while the Sutton brothers lived there.’

‘In the line of duty, yes.’

Palfreyman already sounded on the defensive. Of course, he wasn’t stupid, and he had experience of the job. A third interview, and the presence of the DI himself, would suggest that someone didn’t believe what he’d been telling them, or thought he had information he was keeping back.

‘That’s right. But according to other witnesses we’ve talked to, you actually became quite friendly with the Suttons. You were often seen drinking with them at the Dog Inn.’

Palfreyman smiled. ‘Now, that would be off duty, of course.’

‘Was that a regular occurrence?’

‘A regular occurrence? What sort of language do they teach you these days?’ Palfreyman gave a small sigh. ‘I used to go to the Dog regularly for a pint or two in those days. I still do, though not so often. I can’t really afford it. But Raymond and Derek were regulars there, too. It’s the only pub you can get to without driving a few miles.’

‘So you met them in the pub often?’

‘Obviously.’

‘And they bought you drinks? Or did you buy them drinks?’

Palfreyman began to get annoyed. ‘Look, there’s something you probably don’t understand, Inspector. I can see you haven’t been in the job all that long yourself. In those days, the local bobby wasn’t just some bloke in a car who might, or might not, turn up when your house got burgled. He was part of the community. It was his job to know everyone, to be aware of what was going on around his patch.’

‘Yes, sir. I know that.’

‘Well, that was me — I was part of the community here, and folk liked to see me in the pub, or in the post office, when we had one. I was never exactly off duty, you see. They could talk to me about anything that was bothering them, whenever they saw me around the village. They could even come to my house, and I would try to help them. And, yes, if they felt the urge to buy me a drink occasionally, that was fine, too. That’s because they knew I was on their side, and they trusted me. They liked me. I don’t suppose you get that much, do you?’

He glanced at Cooper, as if seeking support. But, looking at the retired officer, Cooper couldn’t see what it was that people had liked so much.

Hitchens let a small silence follow the outburst, perhaps hoping to embarrass Palfreyman with the lack of response.

‘Mr Palfreyman, were you aware of any illegal activities taking place at Pity Wood Farm?’

‘Illegal activities? Blimey, there are so many laws now, there must be something to cover the way the Suttons lived. Let’s see. Breach of Health and Safety regulations? An EU directive on the standards of domestic hygiene? Control of Stinking Mud Act?’

‘I was thinking specifically of the manufacture of Class A drugs,’ said Hitchens.

Palfreyman was halted in mid-flow. ‘Drugs? At Pity Wood? Not on my watch.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘It’s ridiculous. I never saw any drugs on my patch, either supply or using. Oh, there might be one or two stuck-up folk who smoke a bit of cannabis in their own home, but nothing that troubles anyone else. Who are you suggesting was involved in manufacturing drugs?’

‘Possibly Tom Farnham.’

Palfreyman shook his head. ‘No, you’ve got that wrong.’

‘We suspect his involvement in the production of methamphetamine at Pity Wood Farm.’

It was then Cooper noticed the ex-PC’s huge hands. They were clenched tightly on the arms of his chair, their blue veins standing out like ropes. Those hands were almost the only sign of a tremendous tension that seemed to have gripped him. When Cooper became aware of it, he looked for other indications. After a moment, he saw that Palfreyman’s entire body was quivering, as if a great volcano of emotion was being suppressed, a hot vat of lava that might burst at any moment. Yet Palfreyman’s face remained impassive in response to the DI’s questions.

Hitchens must have thought he just hadn’t understood.

‘Methamphetamine. That’s a Class A substance known as crystal meth.’

‘Impossible,’ said Palfreyman bluntly. ‘I would have …’ He stopped, and gritted his teeth. ‘Well, I would have known.’

Then the DI gave Cooper a look, inviting him to have a go at the subject.

‘Mr Palfreyman, today I interviewed a Mr Jack Elder, from Rakedale. Do you know him?’

‘I know everyone,’ said Palfreyman, a trifle sullenly.