Fry set down her coffee cup thoughtfully. ‘You’re thinking about your link, aren’t you, Ben? Have you still got that diagram?’
o
‘Yes.’
He put the diagram on the table, straightening out the creases to show the connecting lines.
‘I drew it for Mr Tailby after we sent Dickinson back to his cell,’ said Fry.
‘Did you? And?’
‘I told him what you said. That the old man would protect someone for the sake of the family. But who might that be? That’s the question. And Mr Tailby agreed with you on that.’
Cooper waited tensely, watching her face.
‘But he definitely doesn’t think it’s Simeon Holmes,’ she said.
He sighed, his shoulders slumped. ‘That’s what I was afraid of,’ he said.
He finished his coffee, and contemplated going back to detect in? car crime.
o
‘Diane, do me a favour, though?’
She nearly said ‘another one”, but held her tongue. ‘What’s that?’
‘Talk to the bird-watcher again.’
She sighed. ‘You’ve got an obsession about him.’
Cooper found the words hard to say, but knew he had to say them. For some reason, it was important enough.
‘Please, Diane.’
324
The atmosphere at the Mount had passed through every mood and emotion that Graham Vernon could think of, with the exception of the good ones.
For several days, Charlotte had succeeded in working her way up towrards a brittle pitch of nonchalance that had shattered dramatically after the visit by the woman detective the day before. Now there was barely a word or a response to be had from her. All day she had clutched to her chest the photograph of Laura which had finally been returned by the police.
As for Daniel, once the shouting was over, an uneasy peace seemed to have descended. This morning, Graham had even
o’
begun to feel that he and his son might actually understand each a bit better after this business was done with. But when would it be done with?
‘What the hell are they doing now?’ said Daniel.
‘God knows,’ said Graham. ‘They don’t tell me what they’re thinking.’
O
They were missing the village gossip that Sheila Kelk would normally have been delighted to pass on to Charlotte. The only other person that might have known what had been happening was Andrew Milner — but there was no way Graham was going to ask his employee for information of that kind.
Fadier and son stood together by the French windows in begrudging unity. Graham was glad that Daniel had at least cleaned himself up. His hair had been washed, and somehow he had found fresh clothes in the house. Even the kitchen had been cleaned recently, and Graham was sure that Charlotte hadn’t done it. He was surprised, really, that his son was still in the house. And he watched Daniel for clues to his reasoning, fearing another rebellious gesture he would fail to understand.
o
But Daniel was staring into the garden, his eyes following the methodical movements of the dark shapes in the conifers that grew by the bottom wall.
‘What are they looking for, Dad?’
‘I just don’t know,’ said Graham.
They watched the police team assemble for a few minutes on the lawn, brushing the soil off their knees as they discussed their next move. Then the officers dispersed again. They pulled on
325
their gloves and approached the densely planted bushes on the eastern border of the property, gradually getting nearer the gate that led on to the Baulk. And they started looking again.
That afternoon, Cooper left Edendale to visit a family from East Anglia who were holidaying in a cottage near Bakcwell. Their
o ^ o o
Mitsubishi had been taken from the roadside near one of the show caves at Castleton, full of the usual items — a camera, binoculars, mobile phone, a wallet and cheque book locked in the glove compartment. They were fortunate that their insurance allowed them to get a hire car to finish their holiday, but he had a feeling they wouldn’t be coming back to Derbyshire again. However, one of the family thought they might have caught a glimpse of the thieves near their car as they had headed for the cave. It was a very small clue in a hopeless task.
From Bakewell, he drove up the A6 as far as Ashfordin-the Water. There were clumps and wisps of yellow straw lying all along the roadside, swirling in the blasts of air from passing traffic and settling to the ground again like broken shreds of sunlight.
The schools were still on holiday for another week, and the main roads throughout the Peak District were choked with cars and caravans. If the hot weather held a bit longer, the tourist honey pots would be at a standstill
