o ‘ o O O
inner darkness. He remembered that fleeting expression of disappointment when she realized she was not the one he had come to see. He remembered Gwen Dickinson’s words - ‘She’s been talking about you, you know.’ Could that be true? Had Helen been thinking of him, as he had thought
o ‘ o
about her?
Cooper repeated to himself the last few sentences that had been spoken between them. ‘So aren’t you a policeman all the time?’ she had asked. ‘What are you like when you’re just being
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^ssjtit i Will.
He turned the words over in his mind, assessing the tone of voice she had used, trying to recall the exact expression on her face, the precise movement of her head as she turned away, seeking the subtle meanings. There would be a day, he promised himself. Definitely there would be a day, one when he wasn’t being a policeman. But not just now.
He started the Toyota and drove a hundred yards further along the road to pull up on the cobbles outside the Drover. Inside, the pub was busy for a Wednesday night. But in their usual corner were the three old men — Harry Dickinson, Wilford Cutts and Sam Beeley. Their heads turned as he came in and their eyes followed him to the bar. As he was ordering, he heard a comment from one of them produce a cackle of laughter. He felt his jaw clench, and the blood start to flow into his cheeks, but controlled himself with an effort. He was not going to let the old men wind him up.
The landlord, Kenny Lee, tried to make conversation, but sniffed and turned away when he was ignored. Having paid for his pint of Robinson’s, Cooper walked over towards the table in the corner. The three old men watched him come, their eyes expectant, but their mouths tight shut. Harry stood up from his chair.
‘Looking for me?’
‘Not particularly. I just called in for a drink.’
Harry looked disappointed, and sat down again. Cooper looked round for a seat and found a worn wooden stool. He could feel them following his movements as he pulled the stool up to the table, sat down and took a long draught of his beer.
‘That’s good stuff,’ he said. ‘I thought it would be. But I
O ‘ o
couldn’t try it while 1 was on duty.’
The old men nodded cautiously. Sam coughed and offered him a cigarette, which Cooper refused politely.
‘Not many tourists in tonight, then?’
‘It’s Wednesday,’ said Sam.
He sensed the unspoken messages passing between the three
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fnen in the flicking of their eyes and the tapping of their bony fingers on the table. They were like a group of poker plavers about to take the shirt off the back of a stranger in town. But Cooper wasn’t interested in what they weren’t telling him. Not just now.
He let a silence develop, waiting for the old men to break it. Normally they would probably sit together for hours without saving a word, if there was nothing much to say. But he was a uuest at their table, and they were the hosts. He was nankins
&
on their courtesy.
‘How’s it going, then?’ asked Wilford at last.
‘What’s that?’
‘You know what, lad. The murder case.’
‘It’s not,’ said Cooper, and lifted his glass to his face again.
‘Eh?’
‘You’ve got suspects,’ said Sam. ‘You’ll be questioning them. There’ll be bright lights, the good copper and the bad copper. Wearing ‘em down.’
o
Cooper shook his head. ‘We can’t do much of that these days. It’s all the new regulations. They’ve got rights.’ ‘Rights?’ ‘Unless we’ve got enough evidence to charge them, we have
o o o ‘
to let them go.’
o
‘And haven’t you? Got evidence?’ asked Wilford.
‘Not enough. Not by a long way.’
‘That’s a shame.’
‘It’s very discouraging. Sometimes you feel like giving up.’
Harry had said nothing so far. His eyes were fixed on Cooper as he spoke, watching his lips, studying his face as if trying to see behind his words.
