Thats correct, sir.
Robertson waved a hand. Its all right you dont have to tell me more than you want to. I can see youre not sure whether you can trust me.
It isnt that, sir. We dont know a great deal at the moment.
Are you sure you wouldnt like a drink? Something non-alcoholic, of course, since youre so very much on duty.
No thank you, sir.
Robertson took a gulp of his whisky. There are other practices you may be familiar with. In some of our older churchyards, its still possible to see the traditional pattern of burials. At one time, a persons place in the social hierarchy was preserved for posterity by the location of their grave. The better class of people were buried on the south side of the church, in the sunniest position. The poor were planted on the west, and the clergy on the east.
And the north?
Ah, the fourth side of the church was known as the Black North because it was always out of the sun. It was reserved for suicides and murderers, who were denied Christian burial rites. Those poor souls were condemned to the darkness, both literally and spiritually. The professor pursed his lips as he looked at Cooper. Normally, a funeral procession would enter the churchyard from the eastern gate and follow the direction of the sun to the newly dug grave. On the other hand, a murderer or suicide would be brought in at the west gate and carried against the sun.
Robertson lifted his shoulders and let them drop again, as if shrugging off any personal responsibility for such practices. But Cooper was thinking of the dark woods in Ravensdale, the dripping canopy of ash trees, the dank moss coating everything, never drying out because it was hidden from the sun.
Do you have a complete skeleton? asked the professor suddenly.
Cooper was startled. Why do you ask?
It could be significant. Robertson smiled. Thats what detectives say when theyre interviewing a witness, isnt it?
On TV it is, anyway.
Robertsons face changed, but he hid his expression behind his whisky glass.
There are some bones missing, said Cooper. It may mean nothing, though. The forensic anthropologists report suggests the activity of scavengers.
Its quite possible. But if youre thinking along ritual lines, you should bear in mind that there have been many different attitudes to death, and some of our ancestors practices have caused problems for archaeologists.
Problems?
Animals and birds do tend to carry off the smaller skeletal parts, so it was usually only the larger bones that survived excarnation thats the technical term for leaving the corpse out in the open air. But after the animals and birds had taken their pick, the long bones and skull were often taken for use in ceremonies.
Robertson looked at him expectantly. When Cooper asked the next question he felt as though he was responding to a cue, like one of Pavlovs dogs.
What kind of ceremonies?
Any ceremony in which it was useful to have the assistance of ones dead ancestors. Skulls are considered particularly powerful. But other bones have their significance, too. They relate to the continuing influence of ancestral spirits.
Robertson stood up and walked to the window, clasping his hands behind his back and staring at the ground like an Oxford don in his college quad.
You must think about death quite a bit, sir? said Cooper.
But the professor just laughed, his mouth opening wide to show strong teeth and a glimpse of a moist tongue.
Try reading Ecclesiastes.
Sir?
Old Testament, dear boy. As one dies, so does the other. They all have the same breath, and man has no advantage over the beasts. All are from the dust, and all to dust turn again.
Cooper was starting to feel much the way he had at school during lessons from one of his more pedantic history teachers.
Im sorry, said Robertson, studying his expression. Im afraid I miss my little group of students, and I cant resist an opportunity to lecture.
Thats all right, sir.
Anything else?
Cooper still hadnt been given a chance to hear the tapes of the phone calls that Fry was so worried about. But her hunt through the area for locations had left him turning over in his mind the possible meanings of the phrase the caller had used.
Yes. What does the dead place mean to you?
Robertson gazed out of the window thoughtfully, took a sip of his Glenfiddich, and shook his head, stirring the wings of grey hair over his temples. He repeated the phrase silently to himself a couple of times, his lips glittering with drops of whisky as they moved.
It could mean anything, couldnt it? said Cooper finally.
The professor jerked as if woken from a daze. Yes, Im afraid so.
Cooper closed his notebook. Well, I think thats about it for now, sir.
Please dont hesitate to get in touch if you need to talk again. It all sounds most intriguing.
As he made his way back through the tiled hallway, Cooper passed under the coat rack. He wondered if the professor had shot the deer himself and taken its feet instead of its antlers as a trophy.
Fashions change, said Robertson, his voice echoing in the hallway. But our deepest instincts dont, Im afraid. Were fascinated by death, yet afraid of it. The enclosed coffin is a symptom of our refusal to accept the reality. Did you know the word burial derives from the Anglo-Saxon birgan, meaning to conceal. Personally, Ive always felt the sarcophagus was a rather more civilized option.
A sarcophagus? Coopers head was suddenly filled with images of Egyptian mummies, and a half-remembered kaleidoscope of pyramids, pharaohs and golden effigies of Tutankhamen.
At least wed enjoy a bit of light and air, said Robertson as he opened his front door.
And Cooper was still shaking his head at the professors non-sequitur as he drove past the new houses, out of Totley, and back towards the Derbyshire border.
It was Graceless who lay dead on the boards of Mr Jarviss porch. As Ben Cooper walked up the steps, the first thing he noticed was the bloodstained patch of hair on the dogs side, just behind her front leg.
Did you see anybody, Mr Jarvis?
No. They were off in the woods somewhere. But I heard the shot.
It was immediately obvious to Cooper that the dog had been killed by a rifle bullet, not by a discharge from a shotgun, as hed expected. Hed seen dogs killed by shotgun pellets before. In fact, a few weeks ago, Matt had shot a stray Doberman that had been worrying his sheep. A cartridge full of pellets caused a very visible mess. But in this case, the blood seemed to have come from a single wound, close enough to the heart and other vital organs to be instantly fatal.
When he bent to examine the injury, Cooper saw that the blood had already darkened and begun to dry. It had matted the hair even more and made it difficult to find the exact entry point of the bullet. He forced apart two hanks of sticky fur and glimpsed a neat black hole in the dogs skin.
Only one shot?
Thats all I heard. I thought there must be folk out rabbiting.
Maybe there were. And a stray shot
Oh, aye. A stray shot that hit the old lass right in the heart. Thatd be what it was, no doubt.
Jarvis threw a blanket over the dog and turned away.
Where are the other dogs? said Cooper.
Down in the paddock.
Jarvis threw a blanket over the dog and turned away.
Where are the other dogs? said Cooper.
Down in the paddock.
Everything was soaking wet, including the boards and the dog. Jarvis took off his cap, revealing a patch of white scalp where his hair had receded but the sun had never reached his skin.
Youd best get moving if youre going to stand a chance of catching them, he said.
Well be following the incident up, sir.
Bloody amazing.
He reached down to the dogs neck and unfastened the collar. When Cooper followed him to the door of the house, he saw Jarvis drop the strip of worn leather into a drawer of the kitchen dresser. He thought he glimpsed other collars in there, perhaps mementos of previous dogs hed owned. A little private collection of memories.
If you could just show me exactly where you found the dog, sir? said Cooper.
They walked through the overgrown paddock and down towards the stream. The three remaining dogs were pacing restlessly backwards and forwards in the grass. One of them crept behind the abandoned trailer and waited out of sight for Cooper to pass. But it only wanted to sidle up to him and push its wet muzzle into his hand. He patted the dogs head and rubbed its ears.
Why did you come down here in the first place? asked Cooper as he stood looking at the stream running through the damp shade of the ash trees.
I heard a noise in the woods during the night.
What sort of noise? Voices?
Jarvis frowned. No, not that. A metallic thump, like theyd walked into something in the dark.
Cooper glanced up at the paddock, with its lumps of rusting metal hidden by the long grass.
More than likely, he said. And what did you do, Mr Jarvis?
I went out to have a look, of course.
What time was this?
It must have been about midnight, and it were siling down.
Not a good time for someone to be taking a midnight stroll, then.
Jarvis gave him a sour look, but didnt bother to reply.
When you went outside, did you see anybody? asked Cooper.
No. There was just a bag on the ground near the porch. A game bag like shooters and poachers use sometimes, you know what I mean? So I picked it up. I thought maybe somebody had left me a bit of a present.
Has that happened before?
I know a few lads who go shooting, said Jarvis evasively.
OK. So what was in the bag?
Cack. It were full of cack.
For a moment, Cooper didnt understand. You mean dung? It was full of animal excreta?
Jarvis shook his head and screwed up his face, as if remembering all too clearly the distinctive smell as he opened the bag.
Human, he said.
Are you sure?
Jarvis gave him a derisive look, but didnt answer. Some questions were too stupid to waste breath on.
Do you have any idea who might have a reason to do that?
Somebody Ive pissed off, I suppose. That doesnt take much working out.
And have you pissed off many people? Have you had a dispute with someone recently?
Ramblers, now and then. Theyre a bloody nuisance, some of them.
Have you still got the bag?
I burned it.
Cooper sighed. I dont suppose Mrs Jarvis saw anything?
She was fast asleep. She sleeps through anything.
The three dogs sprawled on the porch steps now, their huge heads hanging over the edge as they watched the men walk towards the gate. Cooper recalled the motorbike hed seen outside the house the first time hed visited. It wasnt here now, and he wondered who rode it. Probably one of Mr Jarviss sons. Or maybe even the mysterious Mrs Jarvis herself. Perhaps he should have taken more notice of the bike at the time, but hed been too intrigued by the abandoned hulks in the paddock, and too keen to get out of the rain.