‘Mr Edson?’
‘Do I see him flirting with Mrs Nowak?’
‘Really? Where?’
‘About two o’clock. Near the jam stall.’
Cooper picked them out. Edson was leaning casually on his shooting stick, smiling and talking loudly to Sonya Nowak. She seemed transfixed by what he was saying, but it might just have been politeness.
‘Is that flirting?’ said Cooper doubtfully.
‘Watch,’ said Villiers. ‘He’ll move a bit closer.’
Edson seemed to find something he’d said himself hilarious. He waved his shooting stick in an extravagant gesture, then planted it back in the ground again. Sure enough, he was now leaning an inch or two nearer to Mrs Nowak. His smile became broader, an eyebrow waggled. Cooper stared in horrified fascination.
‘I would never have thought it.’
‘She’s quite an attractive woman. Don’t you think so?’
‘I…’
Cooper knew he shouldn’t answer a question like that from another woman. He could never give the right reply.
‘No?’
‘If that’s your taste. But him? I can’t see what might attract Mrs Nowak even to give him the time of day.’
‘Come on, Ben. Don’t be naive. What’s the greatest aphrodisiac in the world?’
Cooper sighed. ‘Money.’
‘Absolutely. People are so shallow, aren’t they? The residents of Riddings are no different.’
‘No different. Only worse.’
Russell Edson carried a shooting stick and wore a panama hat, no doubt direct from Ecuador. He wore rimless glasses, with his hair swept back, and a white scarf with tasselled ends thrown round his neck. There was a natural curl to his lip that Cooper found faintly disturbing. It wasn’t so noticeable when he was looking at someone and smiling his polite smile. But it gave him a supercilious look the moment he turned away and his face relaxed.
In company, Edson talked all the time, seeming to have a strong opinion on every subject that came up. It was as if he needed to dominate with the sheer force of his personality. Between opinions, he smiled possessively at every woman within easy radius. Cooper supposed he was what the sociologists called an alpha male, the man with a single-minded urge to take over any group, the kind who always needed to have followers. He wondered if he himself was considered a challenge, whether he was supposed to be cowed by the display of dominance.
The other people drifted away as Cooper and Villiers approached. That was something you got used to, a reluctance on the part of the public to interact with the police, or even to stand next to them at a village show.
‘It’s a bit of a chore,’ said Edson. ‘But we have to be here, you know.’
‘You don’t like socialising, sir?’
‘Socialising?’ he said. ‘Could you call it that? Everyone wants a piece of you, that’s the trouble.’
Cooper stared at him, wondering if this man really did think of himself as the local squire, with a tiresome obligation to allow hoi polloi into his presence now and then.
‘Your neighbours, you mean?’ said Cooper.
‘Neighbours, business associates, former so-called friends. Everyone.’
Glenys Edson had been listening to her son, eyeing him with a baleful expression.
‘Even your children try to suck the life out of you,’ she said. ‘It’s as if they want every last drop of your blood. They’re never satisfied, never give up. What do you say, Russell?’
Edson looked angry. His face was flushed, his lips pressed tightly together. But he didn’t respond to the comment, kept his mouth closed, apparently reluctant to argue with his mother in front of strangers.
Cooper and Villiers moved away, but had only gone a few paces when Cooper felt a touch on his arm. When he turned, it was Russell Edson again.
‘I’m sorry about my mother,’ he said. ‘She didn’t really mean anything by that last remark, you know.’
‘It’s between the two of you, sir. None of my business.’
To his surprise, Edson gave him a warm, grateful smile. It was if Cooper had just done him a huge favour.
‘Thank you, Sergeant. If there’s anything else I can do…’
‘I’ll let you know.’
Cooper saw one of the show organisers passing, a woman in a poncho with a rain hat and brown boots, and decided to introduce himself. Best to let them know that he and Villiers were here.
‘The show looks busy,’ he said. ‘Good turnout?’
‘Not bad,’ she said. ‘But it’s difficult to keep things going. We’re lucky that so many people give their services for nothing. We wouldn’t manage without that. The children’s entertainer, for example.’
‘Doctor Woof?’
She nodded. ‘He’s not charging us a penny. He seems to do it for love. We hadn’t even thought of getting an entertainer until he volunteered his services. It’s wonderful that people want so much to be here at the show.’
A man in a cotton trilby had stopped nearby, seeming to overhear their conversation.
‘Did you say you were police?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Cooper.
‘I don’t mean any disrespect, but…’
Cooper sighed. ‘I know, I know.’
Whenever the sun came out, he felt warm in his waterproof. People folded their umbrellas and carried them like swords. Entering the produce tent was fraught with danger as he dodged the lethal ferrules.
A line-up of classic cars was attracting attention. Cooper was surprised to see not only vintage Rollers and Humbers, but a yellow 1975 Hillman Imp. He dimly remembered a neighbouring farmer driving one of those when he was a child. He and Matt used to make fun of him whenever they saw it going past. They called it the sardine can. The Imp had looked totally cheesy then, back in the 1970s. Now it was a classic.
At the end of the row stood a Mark III Zodiac, with a sign appealing for spare parts. These cars must be a headache to keep running. And an immense drain on money, he was sure. He saw Russell Edson’s name on a red 1967 MG convertible with big headlamps and indicator lights on the wheel arches. There was a man with money to burn, anyway.
‘Mr Edson seems to be fascinated by the children’s entertainer,’ said Villiers.
‘So he is.’ Cooper frowned at the figure in the panama hat and white scarf. ‘That’s a bit strange. I hope it’s not the children he’s interested in.’
‘It doesn’t seem to be,’ said Villiers. ‘I’ve been watching him for a few minutes, and he hasn’t even glanced at any of the kids.’
‘Perhaps he missed out on magicians and clowns in his childhood.’
‘And oh, look,’ said Villiers. ‘The missing element has made its appearance.’
She indicated a man in a black sweatshirt and a bright red baseball cap. He wore wraparound shades and a dark goatee beard shaved into an unnaturally geometrical shape. He was accompanied by a young blonde woman.
Cooper frowned. ‘Who is that?’
‘Ben, you’re getting so out of touch.’
‘Am I?’
‘Luke Irvine would tell you straight away who that is.’
‘Oh, wait a minute. Is it…?’
‘Mr Terence Kaye, also known as Tyler Kaye or Tyler K.’
‘Our missing celebrity. I wonder why he doesn’t want to be known as Terence.’
‘Yes, I wonder.’
‘He’s been abroad, hasn’t he? Owns other homes somewhere.’
‘One in Florida at least, they say. He isn’t seen in Derbyshire much during the winter.’
Cooper smiled. ‘No, I can imagine.’
