Theres something for you, Ben, said the DI, fiddling with some papers on his clipboard. It looks as though youve had a bit of early luck. A member of the public called in to say she recognized the facial reconstruction.
Already?
It was in the evening paper last night, and it got a couple of minutes on the local TV news, too.
Brilliant.
Hitchens looked at him critically, as if detecting something not quite right. Cooper wondered if hed forgotten to shave properly, or had his tie on crooked. Both were perfectly possible.
The ladys name is Ellen Walker. She believes the deceased is her cousin, Audrey Steele. Heres the address, Ben.
Im on my way, sir.
Cooper grabbed his jacket from his chair and tried to straighten his tie. It was best to look professional when meeting law-abiding members of the public.
One more thing, Ben Hitchens was holding out a sheet torn from a message pad.
Whats this?
Another bit of luck for you. This gentleman is a retired forensic anthropologist with a special interest in Thanatology. Apparently, weve consulted him now and then in the past, and hes been living in this area since his retirement. Hes willing to do a little consultancy work for us at no cost.
At no cost? Who says?
Hitchens smiled. The vice-chairman of the police committee, whos a member of the same Rotary Club as Professor Robertson.
Cooper took the sheet of paper and looked at the contact details. Is he ACPO accredited?
Of course. Give him a try, Ben. He might be exactly the person you need.
Yes, I suppose he might. And he thought: Especially since hes free. But he didnt say it out loud.
OK then, Ben, thats it.
Cooper was aware that the room had emptied round him, and the DI was impatient to get on. But his father had taught him he should never pretend to understand something when he didnt. It always led to disaster, hed said.
Er just one thing, sir, he said.
Yes?
What on earth is Thanatology?
Hitchens looked flustered for a moment, then snapped his clipboard shut and headed rapidly towards the door, as if he didnt have a second to spare for inane questions.
For heavens sake, Cooper if you dont know, look it up.
As he was getting ready to leave the office, Cooper noticed a book on Gavin Murfins desk. Gavin never had books on his desk. Pies and cakes, yes. Chocolate, obviously. Anything edible, in fact. So unless this book was made of iced sponge, it was a historic first.
Murfin saw him looking. But before he could move the book, Cooper picked it up. Dozens of bits of paper protruded from it, marking specific pages.
A Promotion Crammer for Sergeants, Part One. I thought there must be some reason why you were suddenly talking like a training manual. Whats going on, Gavin?
Im just trying to improve my performance, like, said Murfin.
Your what?
Its something we should all stop and think about now and then, in my view. If were going to make any progress in our careers, that is.
Cooper stared at him. But this is a crammer, Gavin youre surely not thinking of going for promotion?
As a matter of fact, I am.
Youre going to put in for your sergeants exam? Are you serious?
Murfin snatched his book back. Why shouldnt I? Nobody around here seems to appreciate the depth of my experience. I was in CID when you were still in short pants. Ive seen it all, I have. So its time I shared the benefit of my knowledge and expertise in a supervisory capacity.
Youve been practising your answers for the interview, said Cooper in amazement.
Go ahead, take the piss. I dont care. One of the advantages of my years of experience is that I remain cool and unflappable, even in the face of extreme provocation.
Hold on, said Cooper. How many years exactly?
What?
How many years experience, Gavin? How long have you been in CID?
Murfin didnt answer. He opened his crammer and pretended to be studying a page.
What?
How many years experience, Gavin? How long have you been in CID?
Murfin didnt answer. He opened his crammer and pretended to be studying a page.
Come on, Gavin how many years?
Eleven, said Murfin casually.
Cooper let out a long breath. Ah. Tenure. That explains everything. Youve only got a year left, at most. And you dont want to go back into uniform. Gavin, youre getting desperate.
Do you find the idea of me being promoted to sergeant inconceivable?
Well, yes.
Thanks a lot.
Cooper laughed, then instantly felt guilty not for laughing at Gavin, but because it didnt seem right that he should have something to laugh about right now.
They both looked up as Diane Fry came into the room. Her face was dark with irritation.
Hey up, said Murfin quietly. Are we in for another go at boosting morale?
Shh. Youll just wind up her again, said Cooper.
Well, these team-building exercises are wearing me down, Ben. Im getting emotionally exhausted from all the love I feel for my colleagues.
Fry approached Cooper immediately. Ben, the DI says hes given you the name of some old professor to talk to.
Yes. Im hoping to see him this afternoon.
When you get back, have a word with me, will you? I need to make a judgement on whether he might be of use in another enquiry. So Ill be interested in your opinion of him.
Youre not usually very keen on outside experts, Diane, said Cooper.
Personally, I wouldnt touch him with a bargepole. But I need a reason to justify my decision not to use him. Follow?
You want me to come back and tell you hes useless, right?
Frankly, I expect you to come back and tell me hes some barmy retired academic who drinks too much and has long hair, a smelly dog and holes in his cardigan, but likes to be visited by nice young police officers. Anything like that will do.
As Fry walked off, Murfin pointed at a page in his sergeants crammer, marked with a yellow Post-it. A supervisory officer should always be prepared to justify any decision, he said. See I could do that.
Hey, said Cooper, if youve been raiding the reference library, did you happen to see that big dictionary?
Its on the shelf over there.
Thanks.
Cooper lifted the book down and flicked through the pages. There it was Thanatology: The scientific study of death and the phenomena andpractices relating to it. From the Greek Thanatos, meaning death.
Lovely. His professor was the genuine Dr Death.
Ellen Walkers home was a double-fronted stone villa in the middle of a nineteenth-century terrace near the parish church. The very last house in the row had been converted into a shop at some time, but now the shutters were down and there was no sign of what had once been sold. By the look of the lace curtains at the first-floor windows, somebody still lived in the flat above the shop. A retired greengrocer or ironmonger, perhaps, driven out of business by Tesco or the massive B amp;Q store on the outskirts of town.
Through panes of frosted glass in the door of number 15, Cooper had a distorted glimpse into the hallway. All four windows at the front of the house had their blinds pulled down far enough to cover the upper sashes.
Mrs Walker? said Cooper when a middle-aged woman answered the door.
Are you from the police?
Detective Constable Cooper, Mrs Walker.
Its Ellen.
Thank you very much for calling us. You understand the circumstances? Why we had the facial reconstruction done?
Well, I saw the photograph in the newspaper. My neighbour showed it to me. I didnt really understand why it was there, but I was fairly sure
Lets just take a look at it again first, shall we?
Cooper didnt like the sound of fairly sure. It would be better to let the witness come to her conclusion more slowly.
Ellen Walker seemed nervous at being visited by the police. It was so refreshing that Cooper forgot for a moment that it was so often a sign of guilt. He looked at the Victorian-style fireplace with its raised slate hearth. Disappointingly, it contained a coal-effect gas fire that had nothing Victorian about it. The windows faced on to the street, but through the kitchen he saw a conservatory leading on to a patio area enclosed by low gritstone walls.
The newspaper reproduction might not have been of very good quality. This is the original, Ellen. Take your time and have a good look at it. Bear in mind some of the details might not be exactly accurate. The hairstyle, for example.
Mrs Walker obediently studied the picture. The hairstyle isnt too far out, not really.
Youre sure its your cousin?
Fairly sure.
Cooper sighed. Fairly sure wasnt much, but it would have to do for now.
The other details fit, said Mrs Walker. Audrey was forty-two, and an inch or two taller than me.
Was Audrey married?
For a while. She met a bloke called Carl, who worked offshore on the oil rigs. He was all right, but they drifted apart after a bit. I think he went to Germany after the divorce went through.
Would you have his address, if we needed it? asked Cooper.
I expect so. Mrs Walker frowned. Audrey and I were always very close, you know. Her mother is Auntie Viv, my mums sister. Audrey was my chief bridesmaid when I got married.
Excellent. So we could say that you knew her very well.
Thats what I said.
And when did Audrey Steele go missing? said Cooper.
Ellen Walker stared at him. Missing?
When was she last seen? We dont have her recorded as a missing person. But it seems she must have been missing since at least February or March last year.
She isnt missing. She died.
Yes, we know she died, said Cooper patiently. We know now that she died. But before anyone knew what had happened to her, she must have been missing.
I dont know what you mean, said Ellen Walker nervously. Audrey died. She had a brain haemorrhage and died.
Now it was Coopers turn to stare. How do you know what she died of?
It was on the death certificate.
What?
Her mother will have it put away somewhere, if you want to see it.
With an effort, Cooper tried to focus his thoughts and figure out what Mrs Walker was telling him. We are talking about Audrey Steele?
Yes, of course.
Ellen, when did your cousin die exactly?
The second week of March last year. She was cremated at Edendale. An awful day, it was, too. It sleeted all afternoon. Ellen Walker shivered at the memory. Theres nothing worse than sleet, is there? It makes you feel cold and damp right through to the bones.
10
Liz Petty was already waiting in the DIs office when Fry entered. She looked cheerful, as though she might have good news to share. But Fry watched her uncertainly as she took a chair. SOCOs were civilians, and therefore unpredictable, in her view.