She sighed. ‘Co on.’
‘The staff at the Snake Inn remember no four-wheel drives. Is it possible the Snowman’s body was left in that lay-by overnight, before the snow started?’
‘Not possible. There was snow underneath the body. And take another look at the video of the scene. It’s perfectly obvious that the body would have been visible to traffic coming up the hill. Even in the dark, you would see it in your headlights.’
‘It wouldn’t be the first time people had just driven on by.’
Fry tapped her fingers. ‘That would mean we’d have to do roadside checks on motorists. That’s more time and more staff.’
‘Sorry.’
‘I’ll let the DI know. Anything else?’
‘Not for now.’
‘Clear up your messages, then.’
Frv watched him for a few minutes longer as he began to
y o o
make phone calls. She listened to him placating people who were becoming more and more anxious that nothing had been done on their enquiries. He was good at that - people on the other end of the line started off angry or upset and w ent away feeling that they had his full attention and sympathy. Fry wondered how she
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could get Cooper’s lull attention. Maybe she ought to get angrier herself, or more upset. Nothing else seemed to work.
Cooper picked up the message form he had put aside. Urgent or important? Neither, of course. Yet, of all of them, this was the call he most wanted to make. He put it into his pocket, pulled on his coat and carried his cap as he followed Fry to the car park.
He found the cold air outside refreshing. To get to his car, he had to cross a treacherous rink of compacted ice where do/ens of police vehicles had spun their wheels on their way in and out of the compound. Someone would have to clear the ice soon, or there would he members of the public falling and breaking their legs, and the county court would be full of negligence cases against the police. That would play hell with the budgets, all right.
Cooper supposed he ought to make an effort not to get himself into trouble-with Diane Frv. Not only was she his supervisor, but she already had a hold over him, a suspicion that had never been mentioned between them, only ever hinted at, so that it might
j O
only have1 been his own delusion that she knew his secret. But one thing was sure. One more wrong move could blight his career. Me could end up one of those embittered old warhorses who had given up hopes of promotion or recognition. He could end up like Cavin Murhn, who no longer cared whether everyone thought he was a joke.
But there was something about the way Fry approached it that rankled. Every time she gave him the benefit of her advice, it made him want to do entirely the opposite. It was exact!v what lie heard married men saw about their nagging wives.
Cooper looked again at the message form he had put in his pocket. Miss Alison Morrissey had called to speak to him and would like him to phone her back. It was an Hclcndale number, so he guessed she was still staying at the Cavendish Hotel. He hadn’t yet decided whether he was going to talk to her; he
wanted to be sure of his ground before he had the confidence
^
to lace her.
But Alison Morrissey needed his help. Fry didn’t need him at
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all — in fact, she would he better off without him, because she could get on and organize everybody the way she wanted them. The contrast between the two women couldn’t he clearer.
The Snowman looked as though his eyes might open at any moment. The colour of his skin reminded Ben Cooper of the real snowman that someone had built in the churchyard at All Saints. It was close to the road, and over the last few days the fumes from passing traffic had turned it grey and unhealthy.
He looked at Peter and Grace Lukasz. They had already looked upset when they had arrived at the hospital mortuary.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ he said. ‘We can do this tomorrow morning, if you prefer.’
‘No, it’s all right,’ said Lukasz.
The mortuary assistant drew back the plastic sheet fully from the face of the corpse. Cooper watched the couple carefully. Lukasz actually seemed to become calmer when he saw the face.
v
Rut his wife was riveted by the sight. She edged her wheelchair a little nearer to study the details of the Snowman’s hair and skin.
‘Well, it certainly isn’t our son,’ said Lukasz. ‘I’ve never seen this man before in my life.’
‘Mrs Lukasz?’ said Cooper.
‘Of course it isn’t Andrew.’
‘But have you seen him before? Do you think this is the man who called at your home on Monday?’
‘It’s difficult to tell,’ she said. ‘Seeing him like this … and, well, I met him for only a moment or two. But I think it could be him.’
‘Have you thought of anything else that might help us to identify him? Any little detail at all?’
‘I don’t think so.’
