‘I wouldn’t do that, Mr Leach,’ said Cooper. ‘Piss off,’ said Leach.
‘Some trouble with your cell count, is it? That can be tricky to sort out. Not mastitis, I hope.’
‘They reckon I’m not cleaning the equipment properly. Not changing the filters. So they’ve docked my milk cheque. Now they’re threatening not to take my milk at all. Bastards.’
‘That would be pretty serious, I suppose.’
‘Serious?’ Leach went goggle-eyed with amazement at the understatement. ‘My cows give better milk than any in Derbyshire. What the hell did you want, anyway?’
‘We’re hoping to speak to Mrs Leach.’ ‘You can hope, then.’
‘Where is she?’
‘She’s gone, that’s where.’ ‘Left?’
‘Aye. So why don’t the rest of you bugger off and leave me alone as well? I’ve had enough.’
‘Can you tell me where she is, Mr Leach?’ ‘No, I can’t.’
‘We’d like to speak to her.’
‘Well, you can do what I have to do - speak to her solicitor. That’s what the letter says that I got. If I want to communicate with her in the future, I have to do it through her solicitor. And I’m her husband! I didn’t even know she had a bloody solicitor.’
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‘Perhaps you could give us the name of your wife’s solicitor then.’
‘Bloody hell. Will you go away and leave me alone, if I do?’
‘For the time being, sir.’
Leach turned and marched towards the house. They began to follow him, gradually closing the distance. ‘Stay here,’ snapped Leach, and slammed the door behind him.
They had no option but to wait until Leach came back. A ginger tom cat strolled across the yard and stared at them. The cat was scrawny, its ears bitten. But it was a farm cat, used to fending for itself and finding its own food in the dark corners of the buildings, used to fighting its own battles against rats, dogs and other cats. Cooper clicked his tongue at it and held out his hand in a friendly gesture. But the cat ignored him.
Fry walked over to look at the house. She found some black plastic bin liners by the back door that were split and bursting with rubbish. She looked at Cooper and screwed up her nose. There was a lace curtain across the window which prevented her from seeing in.
When Leach returned, he had a letter which he pushed in front of Cooper’s face.
‘Yes, divorce proceedings,’ said Leach. ‘What do you think of that?’
Fry found herself behind Leach, near the open door of the farmhouse. Out of the corner of his eye, Cooper saw her stand on the step and push the door open a bit more so that she could see inside, being careful not to enter.
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Cooper wrote down the name and address of Mrs Leach’s solicitor in his notebook.
‘I’m sorry to hear that, Mr Leach. What about the boys? It’s always tough on the children.’
Leach stared at him suspiciously, but said nothing. ‘That’s all I need for now, sir, thank you,’ said Cooper. Leach turned suddenly, moving quickly for a big
man, and saw Fry standing in his doorway. The expression on her face seemed to infuriate him. ‘Bitch!’
Leach hurled himself across the few yards that separated him from Fry. He was like a charging bull, and looked likely to flatten her against the wall. Cooper reacted too slowly, reached out and tried to grab his belt, but missed. He saw Fry step away from the door, giving herself a bit of clear space, flexing her leg to test the strength of her injured knee. She put out her left hand, her palm facing out towards Leach like a traffic officer. It looked like an appeal, a feeble defensive gesture, but Cooper knew it was her weak hand that she was offering as she adjusted the balance of her body.
Leach threw a vicious punch. His fist whistled past Fry’s shoulder as she blocked his elbow with her right forearm. She jabbed her heel into the back of his knee and he hit the ground heavily, rolling on to his face in the muck left by the cows.
‘Ouch,’ said Fry, as she stumbled, rubbing her ankle. ‘That damn cattle market has something to answer for.’ Cooper finally caught up. He put his knee in the flat
of Leach’s back and grabbed for one of his wrists with the intention of getting the kwikcuffs on. But he hesi
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tated. All the fight had gone out of the farmer suddenly. His body was slack and unresisting.
‘Going to be sensible, Mr Leach?’
The farmer grunted. The grunt didn’t seem to communicate much, but Cooper let go of his wrist and didn’t bother with the cuffs.
‘What are you doing, Ben?’ asked Fry. ‘It’s all right.’
Cooper checked Leach’s breathing, his pulse and his heart. The farmer still didn’t resist. In fact, with small movements of his arms and legs, he seemed to be trying to dig himself deeper into the mud. An indistinguishable mumble came from his mouth. Cooper turned the man’s head and looked at his face. Suddenly, he got up and dusted off his trousers. Leach still didn’t move, except to turn his face back into the muck as Fry came across to stand over him, limping slightly.
‘Is he all right?’
‘Let’s go,’ said Cooper.
‘Hold on. He might need medical attention. Let me take a look.’
