J. Gregson - Brothers

They grabbed a meal in Ambleside, where Percy bought Cumberland sausage as a culinary reminder of their first days in Lakeland together. Silence dropped in over tired limbs as they drove the car to the M6 and so south to Brunton and to work. They were passing Lancaster when Lucy said sleepily, ‘Alfred Wainwright came from Brunton, you know. He worked in local government there. Then he discovered the Lakes.’

‘As we have done all over again, together,’ said Percy dreamily. It was an uncharacteristically sentimental vein for him. As if to correct himself, he added a moment later, ‘The best backside in Britain will be even more muscular and rounded, after all that effort.’

‘Keep your brain alert and your eyes firmly on the road, please.’

When they reached Percy’s ageing semi-detached house in the old cotton town, they made mugs of tea, unpacked swiftly and prepared to tumble into bed and into sleep. ‘That bathroom’s as cold as ever. I’m going to do something about it before next winter!’ said Lucy as she emerged in her nightdress and leapt breathlessly beneath the duvet.

There was no reply from Percy. He’d been checking the messages left on his phone. The last of them was from the detective sergeant who was his bagman, now that the rules of the police service prevented him from working with his wife. He listened carefully, then pressed the repeat button. DS Northcott’s deep, dark brown voice said urgently, ‘We’ve got a murder, Guv. High profile, at Claughton Towers. Tommy Bloody Tucker’s been out to it. He’s making a right balls-up. We need you, Guv.’

‘A murder, Peach.’ A prominent local businessman killed in sensational circumstances. And you weren’t there.’ Superintendent Thomas Bulstrode Tucker made it into an accusation.

‘No, sir. Do you think the killer chose his moment? Waited until I was safely off the premises?’

‘This is no time for frivolity, Peach. Murder is a very serious business.’

This was also no time for Percy to meditate on his senior’s penchant for the blindin’ bleedin’ obvious. ‘I understand you attended the scene of crime yourself, sir. Used surprise tactics.’

‘Surprise tactics?’ Tucker assumed the baffled-goldfish expression which always gave Percy a dubious pleasure.

‘Working at the crime face, sir. You usually prefer to cogitate in your office here and provide us with your overview of the situation.’ Or sit on your idle arse in this ivory tower and produce fuck-all, if you take the alternative and majority view.

‘If I cannot attend the scenes of crimes as often as I once did, that is one of the crosses I have to bear, Peach. Much as I should prefer to adopt the hands-on approach, none of us can be in two places at once.’

‘No, sir. Not even you can manage that.’ Peach smiled bleakly, as if he had discovered some form of consolation.

The man he had long ago named Tommy Bloody Tucker stared at him suspiciously over the tops of his rimless glasses. He said again, ‘You weren’t here, Peach.’

‘No, sir. I was enjoying two days of my precious leave, sir. Attaching it to the weekend to give us a blessed four days in a quiet hotel in Coniston and some walking in the high hills, sir.’

‘Yes. Well, as I say-’

‘Scafell Pike on Monday, sir. Crinkle Crags yesterday. Before returning refreshed to the fray, as you suggested.’

‘Me? I don’t think I-’

‘And in the evenings, sir, good food and drink, and then connubial bliss. I find there’s nothing like a damned good-’

‘Yes. There’s no need for any more detail, thank you.’

‘No, I’m sure there isn’t, sir. I’ve no doubt you know all about connubial bliss, sir. Enough said.’ Peach stared at the ceiling, as if he could see there an evocation of his chief in congress with his formidable wife Barbara, whose Wagnerian proportions had led Percy to christen her Brunnhilde Barbara. He shook himself violently, ridding himself of the vision with difficulty. ‘But enough of pleasure, sir. Are you near to an arrest?’

Tucker’s jaw dropped further at this outrageous suggestion. ‘No, Peach, I am not. And even to suggest that an arrest should be possible at this stage shows how little you appreciate the complexities of this case. You should be out there beginning your belated enquiries, not wasting my time with accounts of your squalid activities in Cumbria.’

‘I’m sorry, sir. I understood that you had asked to see me or I should not be here. I have already visited the scene of the crime this morning. I was expecting you to brief me on the current progress of your investigation.’

‘Your investigation, Chief Inspector Peach. I have held the breach in your most inconvenient absence. I am now formally handing over the responsibility for this case to you. I shall maintain my overview and conduct whatever media briefings are appropriate. You will be the person with responsibility for the conduct of this enquiry. Is that clear?’

‘Crystal clear, sir. I seem to remember you reminding me last year that the first thirty-six hours on a case are always the most crucial. What can you report to me from this period?’

‘Me? Well, I. .’

‘DS Northcott tells me you let people leave the scene of this death almost immediately. Is that correct?’ Peach’s black eyebrows arched impossibly high beneath the shining bald pate.

‘There were important people at this gathering, Peach. It was already ten o’clock when I got there. They were anxious to get away to their homes. I could foresee that they were going to become fractious.’

‘I see, sir. I knew you would have a good reason for letting obvious suspects leave so quickly.’

‘There were no obvious suspects, Peach. This was a killing in a car park, with the banqueting hall in chaos during a break before the speeches.’

‘Yes, sir. You didn’t think it politic to keep behind even the occupants of the top table where the victim had been sitting for a few brief questions before they left?’

‘No I didn’t, Peach. These are influential people. They can do the police image a lot of damage in this town, unless we handle this case sensitively.’

‘Yes, sir. Sensitively, you say. I’m not sure sensitivity is my forte, sir. You wouldn’t consider reversing your decision and retaining the case in your own capable hands, sir?’

‘No, I wouldn’t. Get out of here and get on with it!’

‘Very well, sir. What have you done to date?’

‘Me? Well, I put house-to-house enquiries into immediate action, yesterday morning.’

‘I see. I wouldn’t have thought house-to-house would be the most productive line of investigation, with a crime committed amongst sixty-two people at a dinner at Claughton Towers. But that just shows how stereotyped my thinking is, I suppose. That’s where a chief superintendent’s superior intellect and imagination tells. Have you conducted any interviews, sir?’

‘No. I thought I’d leave that for you, Peach. You know that I don’t like to tread on people’s toes.’

‘Yes, sir. Your use of the first thirty-six hours after the crime has been quite subtle, sir. Low-key. Whoever did this must be baffled by your tactics.’

‘I’ve put you in the picture. I think you should be on your way now, Peach.’

‘I agree, sir. We don’t want the scents to get cold, do we?’

Chief Superintendent Tucker stood looking out over Brunton from the window of his penthouse office after his DCI had left. He’d had this problem for years now: he’d like to put that insolent man Peach in his place, but he needed the results the man provided to bolster his position as Head of the Brunton CID section. He sighed, sat down behind his desk and shut his eyes. Two more years and he’d be rid of all this and retired on a fat pension — provided they didn’t find him out before then.