preservation order on that coppice, and the council aren’t interested, so they just do what they like.’
‘Does the noise go on for long?’ asked Villiers, frowning.
‘All day. Sometimes it lasts right into the evening, until it gets dark. We’ve spoken to them about it, but they just blank us, pretend they can’t understand what the problem is. I’m telling you, after a while it starts to feel like a deliberate provocation.’
Cooper looked at him more sharply. ‘Have you taken steps against your neighbours, other than speaking to them?’
Nowak’s expression was suddenly wary. ‘Not like you’re thinking of.’
‘And what am I thinking of?’
‘I wouldn’t do any damage or resort to violence. I might take legal action, if necessary. That’s what I did over the land. And that’s my right as a citizen.’
‘All right.’
Sonya moved closer, not quite touching her husband, but a supporting presence nevertheless. Nowak looked up and met Cooper’s eye.
‘I wouldn’t do anything like what happened to the Barrons. I wouldn’t be involved in anything violent. It’s not in my nature. Not in my history.’
Mrs Nowak spoke then for the first time since Cooper and Villiers had arrived.
‘Richard was born in a refugee camp in East Germany,’ she said. ‘None of us can understand what an experience like that does to a child. But my husband has a horror of violence, I can tell you that.’
‘It’s true,’ said Nowak. ‘I was part of the displaced people of Europe. But my family came here, to Sheffield, when I was very young.’
He laughed ruefully, fingered the whisky glass, but didn’t pick it up.
‘As a small child, I spoke only Polish,’ he said. ‘Like my parents. But my older brother was already bringing English into the house. I remember hearing how different it sounded when he spoke. And, of course, when I went to school I learned to talk just like my classmates. A Polish accent did no favours in those days. We weren’t so multicultural then.’
Cooper nodded. He was thinking how interesting it was that Mr Nowak had said ‘here, to Sheffield’ when he was actually living in the Peak District. Many of the people living in this area came here because it wasn’t Sheffield. It was as different to Sheffield as they could get and still be within commuting distance. But for a child born in an East German refugee camp, this was all part of the country he’d come to. For Mr Nowak, Riddings was as much Sheffield as Pond’s Forge or the City Hall. They were all one place in his imagination – the sanctuary he’d escaped to.
They walked out of the house, and Nowak took a deep breath. The noise of the chainsaw was even louder out here – a nagging, intermittent sound that could set the teeth on edge and induce a headache.
‘Look at these people here,’ said Nowak with a wave of his hand. ‘They don’t have the least bit of consideration for their neighbours. Rude, arrogant, ignorant, offensive, supercilious, inconsiderate, selfish, vulgar, nasty, self-obsessed…’ He took a deep breath. ‘Words fail me.’
‘So I see.’
Nowak smiled, in a moment of self-awareness. ‘Well, I could think of a few more names, given time.’
‘Those will do. We get the general impression.’
‘It’s a shame,’ he said. ‘This would be such a nice place to live, without…’
‘Other people?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. It sounds bad when you say it out loud, doesn’t it? Very antisocial. But we – my family and I – we value our privacy, you see. Our peace and quiet is very precious to us. There are some things that you have to be prepared to fight for. Don’t you think that’s true, Sergeant?’
Cooper and Villiers left the house and found their way back down the drive of Lane End to where Cooper had parked his car. A builder’s van was squeezing past, and he wondered whether he ought to emulate the residents of Riddings and fold his offside wing mirror in to avoid damage. But the van driver seemed to be used to the narrowness of the lanes, and he made it through without any problem.
It was funny how different the attitudes of Barry Gamble and Richard Nowak were towards their neighbours. One seemed to be a self-appointed vigilante, and claimed to be concerned about his neighbours’ welfare, while the other admitted openly that he couldn’t give a damn.
Well, that was what they said. The difference might only be on the surface. Underneath, their level of hostility could be exactly the same.
As he started the car, Cooper thought about the last thing Nowak had said. Everyone had a different idea of what was worth fighting for in their lives. Many people would say their families were the most precious thing they had, that they would fight to the death to protect their children. But it depended what sort of life you lived. He saw many individuals in the course of his job who had thought it worth fighting over a perceived insult, a lack of respect, a spilled drink, or a casual glance at their girlfriend. What seemed trivial from the outside could take on an immense importance in someone’s else’s mind. It was all a matter of perspective.
Murfin, Hurst and Irvine were waiting by the horse trough. No sooner had Cooper and Villiers arrived than a black Audi drew up alongside, with the passenger window already lowered.
‘I don’t mean any disrespect,’ said the driver. ‘But…’
‘We need to get a grip, I suppose?’ said Cooper.
‘Pretty much.’
‘Thank you, sir. I’ll bear it in mind.’
‘Are you being impertinent? I’ll speak to your superiors.’
‘Supervisor, sir. We don’t have superiors any more.’
Cooper turned back to his team.
‘Carol, I want you and Becky to visit Mr Gamble on Chapel Close. Seize his dark grey fleece, his brown corduroys and his fell boots.’
‘Why?’
‘We’re going to have them analysed for trace evidence.’
‘Okay.’
‘Then we’re going to take him with us to Valley View. I’ll meet you at his house.’
‘What about me?’ said Murfin. ‘Not more house-to-house. I’m dying here, Ben.’
‘Gavin, you can’t die until I tell you to.’
Murfin sighed. ‘Okay, boss. But it’s that hill. Let the kids do the uphill work. That’s what they’re for.’
‘They’re not packhorses.’
‘What?’
‘Never mind. Just something I was thinking about. Anyway, Gavin, you can come with me to Riddings Lodge to talk to Russell Edson.’
‘Oh, it’ll be a pleasure. Some of his luck might rub off on me.’
‘Why, do you play the lottery?’ asked Cooper.
‘No. But I can get lucky in other ways, can’t I?’
‘What, at your age?’
‘Ha, ha.’
Russell Edson was watching a man in waterproof trousers wash his metallic blue Jaguar XF. The door of one of the garages stood open, and Cooper glimpsed a shrouded shape. A vehicle so precious that it couldn’t be exposed to dust or sunlight.
‘My handyman, Stanley. You have his name on your list. I gave all the information I could to your colleague here.’
Edson nodded towards Murfin, somehow managing to instil an immense depth of disdain into a simple gesture.
‘Yes, we have all that, thank you.’
‘So what else can I do for the constabulary?’
‘I think you said you employ a gardening contractor, sir.’
‘Of course. Look at these grounds. They need to be kept immaculate.’
‘Would it be AJS Gardening Services?’