‘Mr Jarvis, you said that Richard Slack was the business brains of the firm. But did he do his share of the funeral work?’
‘Oh, if he had to.’
‘He was on a removal job when he died, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes. I left Hudson and Slack not long after that.’
‘Did you ever hear a rumour that he wasn’t alone in the van when it crashed?’
‘There was some woman turned up with a tale like that. But it came to nothing.’
‘Would it have been normal for him to collect a body on his own?’
Jarvis shrugged. ‘That wasn’t a side of the job I got involved
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in much. But I don’t suppose it was out of the question if it was an easy removal. They have a trolley they can use. And he might have been expecting someone to be there to give him a hand. Police, or something.’
Cooper watched the dogs at his feet. They were gradually drifting to sleep as the rain dried on their coats.
‘Actually, that’s a bit odd, isn’t it?’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Well, why did you decide to leave Hudson and Slack just when the man you disliked so much had gone?’
Jarvis shrugged again. ‘Like I said, the business was already going down the nick then. I’m only amazed it’s lasted so long. Slack wasn’t much good as a man, but at least he had a head for finance. He was always looking for ways of making money.’
‘Unorthodox ways, perhaps?’
‘I don’t know anything about that. But I reckon by the end of his time, Richard Slack was ready to do anything to line his own pocket. Anything.’
Cooper forgot the dogs and looked at Tom Jarvis more closely. Such a blatant attempt to cast suspicion on Richard Slack seemed uncharacteristic of the man. He looked uneasy, too, as if he was troubled by what he was saying. He kept shuffling his feet and moving a bit across the boards.
Then Cooper felt a trickle of water on the back of his neck, and realized that he was gradually being eased towards the steps of the porch. He was already standing under the edge of the roof, and the dogs were starting to stretch and get to their feet, as if expecting to see him off the premises.
‘So …’ began Jarvis, adjusting his cap.
Cooper looked at the house. The windows were empty, and dark under the shadow of the porch. With a horrible jolt, he was struck by a possible identity for the body that had replaced Audrey Steele’s on the way to the crematorium.
‘Is Mrs Jarvis home? I haven’t had a chance to speak to
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her yet. If she’s home right now, it would save me coming back again.’
Jarvis regarded him silently, frowning with concentration, as if trying to push Cooper towards the path with the force of his gaze. Instead, Cooper held his stare for a moment, then took half a step towards him. The dogs sighed in exasperation and flopped back on to the boards.
‘Of course she’s bloody in,’ said Jarvis.
‘Well, could I perhaps …?’
Jarvis grunted and turned on his heel towards the door of the house. Cooper took it as an invitation to follow. One of the dogs fell in close behind him, sniffing curiously at his heels as if it had found an interesting scent.
An extended search found Geoff Birley sitting in his Audi in a layby two miles away, on the edge of Edendale. He looked almost relieved when a patrol car drew up and two officers checked his identity before putting him into the back seat.
When she heard the news, Diane Fry was still in the Birleys’ house, watching Sandra’s body being prepared for removal. She wondered whether to tell Mr Birley that he’d chosen the Devonshire Estate third option. He’d left his wife exactly where she fell when she died.
At West Street, Fry stood at her desk in the CID room for a few minutes, trying to gather her thoughts. Anxious as she was to question Geoff Birley about the phone calls, it would take some time for him to be processed and ready for interview. They’d probably wait until all the evidence had been collected from the house and statements taken from the neighbours. If he could be placed in the right areas at the times when the calls were made, it might provide evidence of premeditation. The case would be as airtight as possible before they made a move.
There were plenty of other things demanding her attention in the meantime. As always, it was a question of priorities.
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Freshest in Fry’s mind was the arson attack on Hudson and Slack. A night-shift worker at one of the industrial units had been loading a truck when the fire had started, and he reported seeing three figures running westwards along the cutting. That was lucky, because most people would have looked at the flames and seen nothing else, especially at night. Everyone loved the sight of a good fire. Uniformed officers were following up the lead, and trying to obtain sightings of a vehicle parked in the streets to the west. That would take time, too.
According to a message he’d left for her, Ben Cooper had met a brick wall with Audrey Steele’s mother on the arson. But her cousin Ellen Walker had been more cooperative. A phone call to her had elicited details of Audrey’s funeral eighteen months ago. The service had been held at St Mark’s in Edendale, but the hearse had taken the coffin on to the crematorium afterwards. Mrs Walker had even remembered who the drivers were - Vernon Slack and Billy McGowan. Full marks to Cooper, then. That was exactly what he’d thought might have happened.
An earlier message told her that Cooper had already spoken to McGowan, but not to Vernon Slack, who’d called in sick. Fry frowned at that. Cooper recommended bringing McGowan in for formal interview. She scrawled a big tick and ‘OK’ on the note, and looked around the office.
‘Gavin,’ she said, ‘set this up, will you?’
Then there was Professor Freddy Robertson. He’d been responsible for carrying out an inventory of the bones in
