…?’
‘DC Villiers will escort you off the property,’ said Cooper.
‘Fair enough.’
‘No – wait a minute.’
Gamble stopped, his eyebrows waggling uncertainly.
‘Perhaps you can help,’ said Cooper. ‘What do you know about a dispute between Mr Nowak and the Barrons? An argument over a bit of land.’
‘Oh, that. Everyone knows about that. It was the boundary, you see. Just along there, on Croft Lane.’
‘How did it start?’
‘Well, when Nowak bought Lane End, there was no wall or fence there, not even a hedge to mark the boundary between the properties. There was just a grass verge bordering the lane.’ Gamble removed his hat and scratched his head. ‘It had been that way for decades, I suppose, and the previous owners had never bothered about it. But when the Barrons moved in at Valley View, they decided to lay claim to the verge. Jake Barron said he wanted to create an access into the pony paddock. Their daughters are into horses, you know. Gymkhanas and stuff. They wanted to get a trailer in without going through the main entrance and past the garage block.’
‘So they claimed the land they needed?’
‘Aye. Trouble was, there were no maps with the deeds, to show the exact line of the boundary. If you ask me, I think it might actually have been common land, dating from the time when the original village was built by the duke. I don’t suppose anyone worried about boundaries back then, being as how the whole village belonged to one person. It would just have been shared by the community.’
‘I see.’
Gamble smiled ruefully. ‘Those were the days, eh? Not much community spirit now. Not between those two, anyway. Not anywhere, really.’
‘So they ended up in a dispute that went as far as a court hearing.’
‘That’s right. You know, if they’d got on better, it might have been settled amicably. But they hated each other on sight, I reckon. Nowak and Barron, they were like two bulls at a gate. They locked horns, and that was it. Neither of them was ever going to give in. Not in this life.’
‘And the Barrons won, in the end?’
‘So they say.’
‘Did anybody else take sides in this dispute? Any of the other neighbours?’
‘No. They just sat back and enjoyed the show. It was a few months ago now, of course.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Cooper realised Gamble was looking at him eagerly, as if he suddenly felt like part of the team and might be employed for his natural detection abilities. There was nothing worse than an interfering amateur who felt they’d been given some encourage ment.
He nodded to Villiers, who took Gamble’s arm.
‘We know where to find you if we need to speak to you again, Mr Gamble.’
‘I’ll be around,’ said Gamble.
‘I’m sure.’
Villiers was smiling when she returned from escorting Gamble away.
‘Lovable eccentrics. You can’t beat ’em.’
‘Well, it’s surprising what good sources of information they can make,’ said Cooper.
‘Fair enough. Is it Mr Nowak now?’
‘In a minute.’
He remembered Barry Gamble’s account of the way he’d discovered the attack on the Barrons. He had been here in Croft Lane, he’d said. No. What he’d actually said was thereabouts. He was standing near a tree when he’d heard a noise. A thumping crash. He had looked towards the Barrons’ house, Valley View. And what did he see? A light on in the kitchen.
From Croft Lane, Cooper walked down the garden as far as the hedge, turned and looked at Valley View. He was in no doubt now. There was no way Gamble could have seen the light in the kitchen from here.
Well, when you were looking for a suspect in a murder investigation, there was always the person who found the body. In this case, Barry Gamble.
15
‘My neighbours? My neighbours? You know what? I wouldn’t lift a finger to help those people. If I saw their house being burgled, I wouldn’t bother to phone the police. In fact, I’d help the thieves load up their swag myself.’
Cooper was looking at Richard Nowak’s large, powerful hands. They were gripping a glass and a half-empty bottle of whisky. Nowak already smelled of alcohol and his face was flushed.
‘We’re thinking about a particular set of neighbours,’ said Cooper. ‘The Barrons.’
‘Jake Barron. He’s such an aggressive man. Have you spoken to him?’
‘He’s still critically ill in hospital, sir. Serious head injuries, following the assault on Tuesday night.’
‘Oh, yes. Of course.’
‘Had you forgotten?’
‘I don’t think about the Barrons all the time. Why would I?’
Nowak put the bottle down on the table in his kitchen and looked at the glass thoughtfully. Perhaps he wasn’t so drunk as he’d appeared at first. It was very early in the day, after all.
‘Last time we spoke to you, you talked about how the police might react if you took the law into your own hands.’
‘Not me personally. I was speaking theoretically.’
No one could pronounce those words so clearly if they were drunk. Cooper began to relax. Nowak’s reaction must have been due more to emotion than alcohol.
‘We know you were involved in a dispute with the Barrons, sir. It went on for quite a long time, didn’t it?’
‘You don’t give in to people like that. Appeasement never works. They just walk all over you, if you let them.’
Nowak put the glass down as well now. He didn’t even bother to finish the whisky in the bottom of it. His wife, Sonya, appeared behind him, her expression cold. Perhaps it was the sound of her footsteps that had sobered her husband up.
Through the open door, Cooper glimpsed what looked like a well-stocked bar. If he wanted to, this man could probably go on drinking all day and all night, without leaving the house. Yet he didn’t look like a habitual drunk. He had the appearance of a strong, fit man who had given in to stress.
‘I know what my rights are,’ said Nowak. ‘Why shouldn’t I stand up for my rights? This is a free country, they tell me. What’s mine is mine, and I’ll take it. Jake Barron was in the wrong from the start.’
‘So you never accepted the court’s decision, sir.’
‘No, and I never will.’
There was silence for a moment. Nowak turned to the window, and pointed in the direction of Riddings Lodge.
‘Listen to that awful noise,’ he said. ‘Just listen to it.’
Outside, a chainsaw was whining in the coppice. Cooper had to admit it was one of the most irritating sounds that you could ever hear. It had a nasty, angry pitch to it, like a huge mutant wasp. If that sort of noise went on all day outside his flat, he’d be climbing the walls. But perhaps it did. He wasn’t at home during the day, so he wouldn’t be aware of it. Here, people were at home. They were all too conscious of what was going on at the edge of their territory.
‘They’re cutting trees down,’ said Nowak. ‘Mature, well-established trees, not some bit of birch scrub. I don’t know what they’re thinking of, despoiling the environment like that. It ruins the area for all of us. But there’s no
