Stephen Booth - Dying to Sin

‘Yes.’

‘He’s changed a lot, but I can just about recognize him. There’s a look around the eyes and the shape of the jaw. It’s quite distinctive. A Sutton chin. I think there are Sutton ears, as well. A little bit protruding.’

‘They’re like jug handles,’ said Fry bluntly. ‘But the hair cut doesn’t help, I suppose. I’ve heard rumours of those short back and sides.’

‘Right. The man sitting on the tractor is Derek Sutton, who died twelve months ago.’

‘Yes, I can see the ears. He was the superstitious one.’

‘That’s right. He was a few years younger than Raymond, but he seems to have gone a bit strange over the years.’

‘He never married, did he?’

‘No. Nor Raymond, either.’

‘Old bachelors living together. They were bound to go a bit funny, as you call it. Especially at Pity Wood Farm.’

‘His older brother didn’t have much influence over him anyway, so far as I can gather. In fact, Derek’s superstitious beliefs seem to have been a kind of rebellion against Raymond’s piety. It suggests to me that Raymond was a sort of father figure — their real dad died when they were only boys, you know. Old Mr Sutton was killed in the Second World War, serving with the Sherwood Foresters in North Africa. I suppose Alan wouldn’t even remember his father at all.’

Fry looked up. ‘Alan?’

‘Alan Sutton.’

‘Who?’

‘There were three brothers. Alan was the youngest.’

Cooper took one hand off the steering wheel and put his finger on the photograph. ‘He’s here, behind the tractor. Unfortunately, we can’t see him very well, because he’s standing in a shadow from the barn. It was summer — you can tell that from the way they’re dressed, even if the date hadn’t been on the back. August 1968. I bet they were about to start the harvesting.’

‘Why has no one mentioned a third brother? And where is Alan now?’

‘I phoned Ned Dain while I was at the heritage centre. He was very evasive, and when I pressed him he had to go away to consult his mother. But they finally agreed that Alan Sutton just upped and left the village one day, seven or eight years ago. They reckoned he couldn’t bear living with the other two. The Dains hinted that they treated him badly.’

‘Why have they been so shifty about mentioning a third brother? They could have come straight out with that information when we first visited the Dog Inn.’

‘Yes, they could.’

‘But Dain was deliberately vague and misleading when I spoke to him,’ said Fry, starting to sound angry. ‘I know damn well he and his mother haven’t just suddenly remembered this Alan Sutton. In a place the size of Rakedale, it’s inconceivable that they wouldn’t know exactly who was in the family at Pity Wood. So what have they been trying to hide?’

‘I don’t think they’ve been trying to hide anything really,’ said Cooper. ‘I think they were protecting him, in their own way.’

‘Protecting Alan Sutton? From what? Interest by the police?’

‘Possibly. Or from being found by his brothers.’

Fry considered it, her mouth tight with irritation. ‘You think the Dains took sides in some sort of dispute between the Suttons? Maybe they know where Alan is, and they’ve made a promise not to tell anyone.’

‘It would explain their behaviour. They would have been worried that we’d go off and find him.’

‘On the other hand, they might be taking Raymond’s side.’

‘How so?’

‘Well, Raymond seems to have sold the farm without any reference to his younger brother. Shouldn’t Alan be due a share of the proceeds? But if he’s disappeared to the other side of the world and lost touch, Raymond could be hoping that he never gets to hear of the sale — or at least, not until it’s too late.’

‘That’s a theory, too,’ said Cooper.

Fry was silent for a while as they drove, but Cooper knew she wasn’t going to let the question drop. He could almost hear the calculations going on in her mind as she gazed at the photograph of the three brothers.

‘So what really happened to Alan Sutton?’ she said at last.

Cooper looked at her. ‘What makes you think something happened to him?’

‘Well, given the recent history of the family, it seems a good bet.’

‘I don’t know. You could be right. But all we really know is that Alan went away. I had a quick check through the records — there was no report of him missing at the time.’

‘But who was likely to put in a misper report?’

‘His brothers.’

Cooper thought of the plan of Pity Wood Farm, with the grave sites cleared marked on the eastern boundary. Fry might be right in her suggestion. If one of the victims they’d found had been male, he could have a guess at the identity, too.

‘But if Alan Sutton met an unpleasant end somewhere, it wasn’t at the farm,’ he said. ‘The search would have turned him up by now, wouldn’t it?’

‘We could try to find him, wherever he’s got to. But it would take an awful lot of work. A common name like Sutton … And if he hasn’t been around at the farm for nearly ten years, he’s out of the time frame, anyway.’

‘I don’t think anybody actually saw him leave,’ said Cooper. ‘The Dains were full of dark hints, especially the old lady.’

‘Mr Dain didn’t even lower himself to a hint when I spoke to him. But I knew there was something he wasn’t saying. He must have thought I was a fool because I didn’t know there were three Sutton brothers. And he made no attempt to enlighten me.’

Cooper nodded. ‘He told no lies when he was asked a direct question, but he didn’t volunteer information either. It’s the way a lot of people are, I’m afraid.’

‘And why hasn’t anyone else mentioned Alan Sutton?’ said Fry. ‘Palfreyman, for example.’

‘I don’t know,’ admitted Cooper. ‘It is a bit odd.’

‘In a place the size of Rakedale, everyone must have known him, or at least have been aware that there were three brothers at Pity Wood, no matter how much they kept themselves to themselves.’

‘I wonder if they’ve been protecting someone,’ said Cooper thoughtfully.

‘Protecting who?’

‘I couldn’t say. It just makes me think of one of those family tragedies or misfortunes that no one talks about. It might not be for the protection of anyone living, even. It might be out of respect for the mother, old Beatrice Sutton.’

‘But she’s been dead a long time, surely?’

Cooper shrugged. ‘It doesn’t mean that people in Rakedale won’t still respect her memory.’

‘It must be great to have such caring neighbours,’ said Fry.

‘I suppose the best option is to ask Raymond directly about Alan, and see what reaction we get.’

‘Old people,’ said Fry. ‘Even when they aren’t in the early stages of Alzheimer’s like Raymond Sutton, they don’t always talk sense, you know. Their minds wander, and their memories let them down. Because they know that perfectly well, they make things up. They don’t really intend to lie, they just want to keep the conversation going, they desperately want to be interesting. It’s because they’re lonely.’

‘I’m aware of that. But I don’t think it’s true of all old people, Diane.’

‘I’m just suggesting,’ said Fry, ‘that if you’re at the care home again, take anything you’re told with a pinch of salt. Whether it’s something you’re told by Raymond Sutton, or anyone else.’

‘Old ladies are useful sources of information,’ said Cooper. ‘Old ladies know things that other people don’t. Look at old Mrs Dain. Her memory goes back a long, long way.’

‘Ben, I’m fully aware that you don’t take a blind bit of notice of any advice I give you. But I’m warning you that if you go off and do your own thing regardless one more time, you mustn’t be surprised if I say “I told you so” in no uncertain terms. And if I record it on your Personal Development Review next April.’