All of them seemed to be too loud and too jovial, pretending that they were enjoying themselves more than they really were. Even a social occasion like this became a falsehood, a sham.
Cooper reflected that pretty much everybody he’d spoken to in Riddings had been telling lies about something. Lying when in doubt was a natural response, though. It seemed like a way to postpone trouble. Short- term thinking, of course. But everyone was guilty of that. Absolutely everyone.
Before they got back to the car, Villiers disappeared. Cooper found himself standing near the ice cream van. Frederick’s, a local firm. He remembered his promise to buy Villiers a choc ice. But the van seemed to be advertising more exotic items. He had no idea whether she would appreciate a Festival Original or a Grande Chocolate.
For the last few minutes the band had kept returning to a few bars of ‘We’ll Meet Again’, the Vera Lynn wartime hit. It was dropped in like a little bit of sentimental cream on the musical cake. The sound of it reminded Cooper of a sign he often passed for a farmhouse tea room, advertising Tea and Nostalgia.
Villiers caught up with him near the car.
‘I won a box of Thornton’s Continental in the raffle,’ she said.
‘Oh. So…?’
‘So I could either take them home and eat them all. Or I could share them. What do you think?’
Cooper smiled. ‘Sharing gets my vote.’
21
Robin Hood tourists. They used to be restricted to Nottinghamshire. They haunted Sherwood Forest, hoping for a glimpse of the Merry Men among the oak trees. Or they visited Nottingham Castle, signed up for a guided tour of the caves, and were amazed to find that the Sheriff actually existed. Occasionally, a few might stray into Derbyshire to look at Little John’s grave in the churchyard at Hathersage.
But these people were a different kind. A different kettle of fish altogether. They weren’t interested in bows and arrows, or men in green tights. Their obsession was with a more contemporary phenomenon: the developing twenty-first-century legends known as the Savages.
Cooper was frustrated by the number of vehicles parked all over Riddings. No wonder local residents got annoyed. There were constant trickles of people walking past Valley View and Fourways, pointing at the police tape, taking photographs on their mobile phones. And it wasn’t because the village was quaint. Not any more.
He thought of the press photographers gathered outside Moorside House, and wondered if they were still there. If they’d been expecting Tyler Kaye to arrive, they had been right. Luckily, Cooper knew that he himself wasn’t anyone the press would pay attention to. He was far too unimportant, not a face they would recognise.
E Division headquarters in West Street always seemed so much quieter at the weekend. Downstairs, the custody suite was still busy, of course. Uniformed officers on Saturday duty came and went, prisoners were processed, members of the public came into reception to visit the enquiry desk.
Upstairs, it was different. The incident room was manned, but Cooper’s presence wasn’t required. He wasn’t even supposed to be in the office today. There was no sign of Hitchens or Branagh either, but that wasn’t unusual at the weekend.
Luke Irvine was the duty DC. He looked up in surprise when Cooper and Villiers came into the CID room.
‘Something up?’ he said.
‘No, no. Just wanted to check up on a few things.’
‘Okay,’ said Irvine uncertainly.
Watching him, Cooper was reminded of himself as a young DC, not quite knowing what was going on a lot of the time, and being reluctant to ask in case he seemed dim.
Villiers placed the open box of chocolates on a desk.
‘This feels really decadent,’ she said. ‘Gavin will be sorry he missed it.’
‘Not when it comes to a clash with the Rams at home,’ said Cooper.
Villiers shook her head. ‘Football. It’s so sad.’
Cooper had begun making a list of names, consulting a file occasionally for one that he couldn’t quite remember.
‘There’s no need for you to be here, you know, Carol. You can go home.’
‘I know.’
He looked at her and smiled, reflecting what Diane Fry might have said to him in these circumstances. Something caustic and dismissive, no doubt. She certainly wouldn’t have been here supporting him in some quixotic pursuit. A wild goose chase, she would have called it. And probably other things a lot worse.
Villiers peeked at his list of names. ‘Well, from what we saw at the show this afternoon, there seem to be plenty of feuds and disputes going on in that village.’
‘You’re not kidding,’ said Cooper. ‘The Chadwicks and the Barrons, Mr Nowak and the Barrons, Mr Nowak and the Slattery family.’
‘Mr Edson and…?’
‘Well, his own mother, by the sound of it.’
‘Is she his only family?’
‘Hold on.’
Cooper called up the details that had been gathered on Edson during the early stages of the inquiry.
‘Here we are. Russell Edson, of Riddings Lodge, Curbar Lane. A former building contractor, but he gave up the business after the big win. He’s divorced, with two grown-up children. He lives at the lodge with his mother Glenys, as we know. His father died some years ago.’
‘Divorced, eh? Did that happen before or after the lottery windfall?’
‘Good question. It would make a big difference to the wife’s divorce settlement, wouldn’t it?’
‘Absolutely. So what’s the answer?’
‘Before.’
‘Unlucky. She’s got to be resentful. Thinking if only she’d hung on a bit longer, all this could be hers.’
‘It seems Mr Edson has one of the highest levels of security in Riddings, too. He possibly has the most money, and certainly the largest collection of valuables – the house is packed with them.’
‘I wonder if he feels vulnerable. He might expect to be the next target.’
Cooper nodded. ‘Yes, he might. Well, that’s Edson. But the striking thing is that nobody seems to have had any objections to the Hollands. Not that we’ve heard about.’
‘Interesting. So that leaves us without a motive for them being a target on Thursday night.’
‘Ye-es,’ said Cooper.
‘I mean, we are thinking along the lines of someone in Riddings being responsible for these attacks, rather than the legendary Savages everyone else is out chasing? I have got that right, Ben?’
Cooper threw up his hands in submission. ‘You’ll say I’m mad, I suppose.’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Everyone else will.’
He looked over his shoulder, but Irvine was on the phone and paying no attention to them.
‘Superintendent Branagh seems to like you anyway,’ said Villiers. ‘Unless you’ve got something on her?’
Cooper shook his head. ‘I‘ve just learned not to rub people up the wrong way all the time.’
‘The way I do, you mean?’
‘I didn’t say that, but…’
‘I’m getting on really well with Gavin Murfin, at least.’
‘Are you?’ said Cooper. ‘I hadn’t noticed. But, well… Gavin is okay.’
‘And the youngsters are great.’
Cooper nodded. ‘It’s a good team.’
‘I think I can fit in here, Ben.’
‘I’m sure you can. I wasn’t suggesting anything else.’
‘I know I’ve come from a different background. Gavin’s been a copper almost all his life, it seems. Luke and Becky are just starting out, so they have most of their experience to come. But me – I’ve seen and done things they
