But Cooper wasn’t going to lose the opportunity of talking to a captive audience. The Oxleys couldn’t easily get off the roof and climb down the scaffolding to reach their van. There was no easy escape route today. And the home owner wasn’t even around to tell him to leave.
‘Much to do, is there?’ said Cooper. ‘How long are you going to be on this job?’
‘A day or two,’ said Scott.
Ryan was slowly moving back behind the scaffolding, so that Cooper couldn’t see him. How old was Ryan again? Was it fourteen or fifteen? But it was Sunday, of course, so there was no school for him to be attending.
‘Just a weekend job, then?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Finished by Monday?’
‘Yeah.’
‘That’s good, because they’ve forecast rain.’
Scott swore under the sound of the hammer. ‘We’ve got a fuckin’ tarpaulin,’ he said.
‘But you’ll be finished by Monday anyway?’
‘Yes!’
‘Where do you get the tiles from?’ said Cooper.
‘Eh?’
‘Well, they’re old tiles on that roof, aren’t they? It isn’t easy to get a good match. Do you have a local supplier?’
‘Are you thinking of going into the roofing business, or what?’ said Scott.
‘I’m interested. Local enterprises need our support. I might
422
have some roof repairs I need doing myself one day.’
A mobile phone started ringing somewhere. Cooper knew it wasn’t his by the sound of the ring, but he took it out of his pocket and looked at it anyway, just in case. Then he saw that Scott Oxley had taken a phone off the leather belt he wore round his jeans. Scott listened for a few minutes, grunted a couple of times, then thrust the phone back. He glowered down at Cooper.
‘Bastard,’ he said.
‘Sorry? I was just enquiring about some work.’
‘You came here to keep make sure we kept out of the way.’
Cooper frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
But Scott was clambering down the scaffolding as fast as he could, his boots rattling on the ladder on the final descent. Ryan swung down after him, like a natural scaffolder.
Cooper took a step backwards, concerned about the change in Scott’s manner. ‘What’s the problem?’ he said. ‘Why are you stopping work?’
Scott paused only for a second before he got into the cab of the lorry.
The rain came early,’ he said.
Puzzled, Cooper stood watching the Oxleys as they drove off. He looked up at the sky, then at the hole in the roof of the house. A starling flew down and landed on the tiles before hopping into the hole and disappearing. Cooper shook his head.
‘I think I’ll be taking my business elsewhere, after all,’ he said.
As Cooper walked back towards the car park, he looked at his mobile phone again. Was there something he ought to know about? But nobody had called him, and his radio was back in the car. Besides, it was his day off, and no one would know that he was in Withens.
As if to reflect the tragedy at the Deardens’ house, a retaining wall had collapsed during the night. It had been holding back part of the slope behind the lodge, but now it looked as if an explosion had taken place in the hillside and burst through the wall. The dressed stones lay scattered across the yard, covered in black soil, small pebbles and plant debris. It seemed as if even the landscape had managed to force its way through their defences.
Earlier, Diane Fry had watched the ambulance bounce carefully down on to the road. Derek Alton had been alive when the paramedics got to him. But shotgun wounds were messy, and it was difficult to tell how serious his internal injuries might be. Fry
423
couldn’t believe that she might be about to lose another potential witness.
Since Shepley Head Lodge was over the border, South Yorkshire Police had been called to deal with the incident, though for once liaison had worked and news had filtered through to Fry. But with Michael Dearden holed up in the house, nobody was making a move until a firearms unit arrived.
Fry wondered where Ben Cooper was, and whether he would even pick up on news of the incident when it was a neighbouring force’s operation.
‘Has Dearden got any family in there?’ asked the South Yorkshire inspector who had arrived to take charge.
‘His wife, sir.’
‘We need to get her out safely. That’s the first priority.’
Fry reckoned Gail Dearden would be safe as long as she didn’t do anything stupid. From what she had heard of Michael, he was reacting to a perceived threat from outside, not inside.
