Stephen Booth - The kill call

It was in this pub that Angie Fry had once tried to present him with a forged death certificate, expecting him to help her in a strategy to get her sister off her back. It recorded the death in Chapeltown, Sheffield, of Angela Jane Fry, aged thirty, and had been dated just over a year previously. It was the first time he’d ever sat at a table in a pub and talked to a dead person.

‘ And presumably this isn’t your real address,’ Cooper had said.

And Angie had laughed. ‘ That isn’t even my name now. I changed it some time ago. The house was used as a squat, but the owners evicted everyone months ago.’

And because of his refusal to be involved in that scheme to prevent Diane from finding her sister, the two women had finally been re-united and had ended up living together for months at Diane’s place in Grosvenor Avenue. Cooper still had no idea whether Diane knew the full picture. Or ever would.

And the odd thing was, Diane Fry had been the bane of his life ever since her arrival in Derbyshire. She was the newcomer who had rejected his attempts at friendship, she was the woman who’d got the promotion he’d thought was his own. She was the supervisor who made him feel he never did anything right, who scoffed at his background and his way of life. She was the woman who looked at him as if he’d mortally offended her at some time, perhaps just by being who he was.

Yes, she was all of those things. He surely had every reason to hate her. Yet, when it came to the point, Cooper realized that he didn’t want her to leave. Her departure would create a strange, inexplicable gap in his life that he couldn’t imagine being able to fill in any other way.

‘Yes, I’ll speak to her,’ he said.

Liz nodded. ‘I think you should. You’re the closest thing she has to a friend, you know, Ben.’

‘You’re kidding.’

But as soon as he said it, Cooper knew she was right. He couldn’t think of a single person who was close to Diane Fry. Some had tried. In fact, he’d tried himself, for a while. But Fry was the sort of person who didn’t want friendship. If asked, she would say she could manage without it. He could almost hear her saying it now.

He looked at Liz. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘Good.’

Liz had made a special effort tonight. Her hair was brushed back, and she’d applied touches of make-up that transformed her normal healthy bloom. Although Cooper was no judge, the glitter of her bracelet looked expensive.

He had a sudden feeling of panic that he hadn’t been treating Liz well enough. And here he was, expecting her to sit in the bar of the Hanging Gate with him. She hadn’t seemed to demand any more, but seeing her tonight, he had a nagging suspicion of a dangerous gulf between them that he’d been ignoring. What, after all, did he really know about her?

Liz’s green eyes seemed to mock him, as if she was reading his thoughts. Was his face so transparent, that everyone could do that?

But then her eyes slipped past him, and Cooper turned. His sister had arrived.

‘It’s getting really foggy out there,’ said Claire, shaking off her coat. ‘Not so bad in town, but you can’t see three feet in front of you on the hills.’

Introductions followed, and those few awkward moments before drinks were fetched and everyone settled down again. Liz clutched at his hand and held it firmly on the table, intertwining her fingers with his. To Cooper, it felt more like a proprietary gesture in the face of a rival than a need for reassurance. He saw Claire notice it, and felt oddly uncomfortable.

‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ said Claire to Liz. ‘I’ve heard such a lot about you.’

Cooper almost spilt his beer. He never talked about Liz to his family very much; in fact, he’d sometimes had to resist persistent cross-questioning from Claire. But Liz laughed, as if the idea of being gossiped about pleased her.

‘I’m glad you spare the time,’ she said. ‘Ben always tells me you’re really busy.’

‘That’s true.’

Claire Cooper often complained of being too busy for anything. But that might change now that she was closing down her craft shop in Bold Lane. The ‘To Let’ signs were already up, and she was letting the stock run down. Last time Ben had called in to see her, there were almost no healing crystals or dream catchers to be seen anywhere, though the aroma of sandalwood remained, and would probably persist for ever. He wondered if Claire had ever sold citronella oil, which was used by hunt saboteurs to distract hounds, as well as being a perfume and natural insect repellent.

‘So what are you going to do now, instead of running the shop?’ he asked.

‘Well, I’m getting a job,’ said Claire.

‘Oh, a New Age sort of job, I suppose?’

‘Ben, the shop was never “New Age”. It was just a little bit alternative, that’s all.’

‘Too alternative for the people of Edendale. It never made much money, did it?’

‘Profit isn’t everything.’

Ben laughed. ‘Try telling that to Matt.’

Claire looked from Ben to Liz. ‘You ought to go and visit Bridge End Farm. You haven’t been for a long time, have you?’

‘Well, a week or two, perhaps.’

‘Longer than that, Ben. The girls are missing you.’

‘Did they say so?’

‘Yes, actually. Amy particularly. She asked if you were ever coming again.’

Cooper thought he’d always enjoyed a close relationship with his two nieces, Amy and Josie. He was shocked to hear they didn’t think he was visiting them enough, that he might even have forgotten about them.

‘I’ll go this Friday,’ he said.

Liz gripped his hand more tightly. ‘Don’t forget we’re going out Friday night.’

‘Oh, right.’

Cooper remembered Liz talking about what they should do at the weekend. She wanted to go to the Dog and Parrot to see a band that was playing there this Friday, Midlife Krisis. Cooper had never heard of them.

‘It doesn’t matter, if you don’t want to.’

‘We’ll talk about it,’ he said.

Liz’s phone buzzed, a text message coming through. There were times when she was on call-out for Scenes of Crime, and could disappear at any moment.

‘Excuse me, I must take this. Besides, I’ve got to go to the loo, anyway.’

‘No problem. See you in a minute,’ said Cooper.

He smiled at his sister, taking a drink of his beer. But Claire looked at him steadily, waiting until Liz was out of earshot.

‘I don’t want to interfere, Ben…’

‘It never stopped you in the past, Sis.’

‘I’m sorry, but… I really don’t think she’s right for you.’

‘We’re only going out, you know. We’re not about to walk up the aisle tomorrow.’

‘I know that,’ said Claire. ‘But I know you, too. I don’t want you to make a big mistake.’

Cooper leaned back in his chair, and rubbed a hand across his face. Why did everyone always want to tell him what to do? He wasn’t a teenager any more, for goodness’ sake. He hadn’t been for a long time.

‘So what’s the problem, Claire? Is it because Liz is in the job? She’s a civilian, you know, not a police officer.’

‘What difference does that make?’

‘They have an easier life,’ said Cooper. ‘But don’t tell Liz I said that.’

‘She gets called away, just the same way that you do. The job comes first, doesn’t it? It came first for Dad, and it comes first for you. Another one like that, and — ’

‘We’re all doomed?’

Claire sighed. ‘It wouldn’t work, Ben. What happened to that teacher you went out with for a while?’

‘Helen? She just sort of disappeared.’

‘Well, I thought she was all right. But this Liz Petty — well, she spends her life looking at crime scenes, picking up bloodstains and hairs, and goodness knows what. Besides…’