Tell me about it.
Cooper had come to a halt again. Clusters of students were standing near him, waiting for the tram to re-emerge from its tunnel under the roundabout. They all wore personal stereos or had mobile phones pressed to their ears. The main university campus was right across the road, and he could make out the hospital complexes in Western Bank. The one-way system in central Sheffield always baffled him, so he was glad to be on the ring road. He didnt want to stay in the city any longer than necessary.
I dont suppose you fancy going for a drink tomorrow night? said Murfin.
Dont you have to be at home with the family, Gavin?
Jeans taking the kids out ice skating. Ill be on my own.
No, Im sorry. Not tomorrow.
Youre turning down beer? Well, I could offer food as well. We could have pie and chips at the pub, or go for an Indian. The Raj Mahal is open Wednesdays.
No, I cant, Gavin, said Cooper. Ive got a date.
A what?
A date.
With a woman?
Could be.
At last, Cooper was able to take his exit, turning right by the Safeway supermarket and the old brewery into Ecclesall Road. Ahead of him lay a land of espresso bars, Aga shops and the offices of independent financial advisors. In the leafy outer suburbs of Whirlow and Dore, the houses would get bigger and further away from the road as he drove into AB country.
Are you still there, Gavin?
Murfins voice was quieter when he came back on the phone.
Im going to have to go. Miss has come out of her meeting, and she doesnt look happy. Her nose has gone all tight. You know what I mean? As though shes just smelled something really bad.
I know what you mean.
So it looks as though Ive blown it. I just wasnt quick enough.
Good luck, then. Speak to you in the morning.
Cooper smiled as he ended the call. Murfins comment about Diane Fry had reminded him of the forensic anthropologists report on the human remains from Ravensdale. The details in the document had been sparse. Like so many experts reports, it had seemed to raise more questions than it answered. But hed made a call to Dr Jamieson anyway, mostly out of optimism. In the end, there was only one person whose job it was to find the answers.
The nasal opening is narrow, the bridge steepled, and the cheekbones tight to the face. Caucasian, probably European. An adult.
Yes, you said that in your report, sir.
Beyond that, its a bit more difficult. We have to look for alterations in the skeleton that occur at a predictable rate changes in the ribs where they attach to the sternum, or the parts of the pelvis where they meet in front. We can age adults to within five years if were lucky, or maybe ten. So youll have to take the age of forty to forty-five as a best guess.
And the chances of an ID? Cooper had asked.
To a specific individual? None.
Dr Jamieson had sounded impatient. Probably he had a thousand other things to do, like everyone else.
Look, all I can give you is a general biological profile its up to you to match it to your missing persons register. Im just offering clues here. I dont work miracles.
But its definitely a woman? Cooper persisted.
Yes, definitely. That should narrow it down a bit, surely? You dont have all that many missing women on the books in Derbyshire, do you?
No, Doctor, we dont.
And Jamieson had been right. The problem was, no one had ever filed a missing person report answering the description of Jane Raven.
Fry got herself a cup of water from the cooler and waited a few moments before she went back into the DIs office. She was vaguely aware of Gavin Murfin lurking rather furtively in the CID room, sitting down again when she looked his way. But the rest of the place was already deserted. It smelled stale, and ready for the arrival of the cleaners.
She walked back in and put her water down on Hitchens desk.
He was on the phone for more than three minutes, she said. Why havent they traced the call?
They have. He was in a public phone box.
Of course he was. No doubt in some busy shopping centre where no one would notice him. And I suppose he was long gone by the time a patrol arrived?
Hitchens looked at her with the first signs of impatience, and Fry realized shed gone a bit too far. She blamed it on the headache, or the fact that she felt so exhausted.
Actually, Diane, the phone box was in a village called Wardlow.
Wheres that? She screwed up her eyes to see the map on the wall of the DIs office, making a show of concentrating to distract him from her irritability.
On the B6465, about two miles above Monsal Head.
Fry kept the frown of concentration on her face. She thought she had a vague idea where Monsal Head was. Somewhere to the south, on the way to Bakewell. If she could just find it on the map before the DI had to point it out
Here said Hitchens, swinging round in his chair and smacking a spot on the map with casual accuracy. Fifteen minutes from Edendale, thats all.
Why there?
We cant be sure. At first glance, it might seem a risky choice. Its a quiet little place, and a stranger might be noticed or at least an unfamiliar car parked by the road. Normally, wed have hoped that somebody would remember seeing a person in the phone box around that time.
So what wasnt normal?
When a unit arrived in Wardlow, a funeral cortege was just about to leave the village. There had been a burial in the churchyard. Big funeral, lots of mourners. Apparently, the lady who died came from Wardlow originally but moved to Chesterfield and became a well-known businesswoman and a county councillor. The point is, there were a lot of strangers in the village for that hour and a half. Unfamiliar cars parked everywhere.
Hitchens drew his finger down the map a short way. As you can see, its one of those linear villages, strung out along the road for about three-quarters of a mile. While the funeral was taking place, every bit of available space was occupied, including vehicles parked on the grass verges or on the pavement, where there is one. Some of the villagers were at the funeral themselves, of course. And those that werent would hardly have noticed one particular stranger, or one car. On any other day, at any other time. But not just then.
Hitchens drew his finger down the map a short way. As you can see, its one of those linear villages, strung out along the road for about three-quarters of a mile. While the funeral was taking place, every bit of available space was occupied, including vehicles parked on the grass verges or on the pavement, where there is one. Some of the villagers were at the funeral themselves, of course. And those that werent would hardly have noticed one particular stranger, or one car. On any other day, at any other time. But not just then.
So it was an opportunist call? Do you think our man was simply driving around looking for a situation like that to exploit and took the chance?
Could be.
Fry shook her head. But he had the speech all prepared, didnt he? That didnt sound like an off-the-cuff call. He either had a script right there in front of him in the phone box, or hed practised it until he was word perfect.
Yes, I think youre right.
Either way, this man is badly disturbed, she said.
That doesnt mean he isnt serious about what he says, Diane.
Fry didnt answer. She was trying to picture the caller cruising the area, passing through the outskirts of Edendale and the villages beyond. Then driving through Wardlow and spotting the funeral. She could almost imagine the smile on his face as he pulled in among the mourners cars and the black limousines. No one would think to question who he was or why he was there, as he entered the phone box and made his call. Meanwhile, mourners would have been gathering in the church behind him, and the funeral service would be about to get under way.
The recording, said Fry. Have Forensics been asked to analyse the background noise?
Well make sure they do that, said Hitchens. But why do you ask?
I wondered what music was playing. Abide With Me, perhaps. Or The Lords My Shepherd. We might be able to tell what stage the funeral service had reached, whether he was already in the phone box as the mourners were going in, or waited until the service had started to make the call. Maybe there were some late arrivals who noticed him. Well have to check all that. If we can narrow it down, we might be able to trace the people who were most likely to have seen him.
Thats good.
And another thing
Yes?
I wonder if he just drove away again as soon as hed finished the call.
Why?
Well, that would make him stand out, wouldnt it? Someone might have wondered why he left without attending the service. If he was really so clever, Im guessing hell have stayed on.
Stayed on?
Joined the congregation. Stood at the back of the church and sung the hymns. He might have hung around the graveside to see the first spadeful of dirt fall on the coffin. He probably smiled at the bereaved family and admired the floral tributes. Hed be one of the crowd then.
Just another anonymous mourner. Yes, I can see that.
One of the crowd, repeated Fry, struck by her own idea. And all thinking about the same thing.
What do you mean, Diane?
Well, we know nothing about him yet, but I bet hes the sort of person whod love that idea. All those people around him thinking about death while he made his call.
She paused and looked at Hitchens. He turned on his chair and met her eye, his face clouded by worry. Fry saw that shed reached him, communicated her own deep uneasiness. The callers words in the transcript were bad enough. Now she found herself anticipating the sound of his voice with a mixture of excitement and dread.
Except that his death, said Hitchens, the one he was talking about in his call, was nothing to do with the deceased councillor who was being buried in Wardlow churchyard. It was a different death altogether.
Of course it was, said Fry. But we have no idea whose.
The DI looked at his watch. It was time to call it a day. Unlike some of his officers, he had good reasons for wanting to get home on time an attractive nurse hed been living with for the past two years, and a nice house theyd bought together in Dronfield. But itd be marriage and kids before long, and then he might not be so keen.