Stephen Booth - Dying to Sin

‘So you met them in the pub often?’

‘Obviously.’

‘And they bought you drinks? Or did you buy them drinks?’

Palfreyman began to get annoyed. ‘Look, there’s something you probably don’t understand, Inspector. I can see you haven’t been in the job all that long yourself. In those days, the local bobby wasn’t just some bloke in a car who might, or might not, turn up when your house got burgled. He was part of the community. It was his job to know everyone, to be aware of what was going on around his patch.’

‘Yes, sir. I know that.’

‘Well, that was me — I was part of the community here, and folk liked to see me in the pub, or in the post office, when we had one. I was never exactly off duty, you see. They could talk to me about anything that was bothering them, whenever they saw me around the village. They could even come to my house, and I would try to help them. And, yes, if they felt the urge to buy me a drink occasionally, that was fine, too. That’s because they knew I was on their side, and they trusted me. They liked me. I don’t suppose you get that much, do you?’

He glanced at Cooper, as if seeking support. But, looking at the retired officer, Cooper couldn’t see what it was that people had liked so much.

Hitchens let a small silence follow the outburst, perhaps hoping to embarrass Palfreyman with the lack of response.

‘Mr Palfreyman, were you aware of any illegal activities taking place at Pity Wood Farm?’

‘Illegal activities? Blimey, there are so many laws now, there must be something to cover the way the Suttons lived. Let’s see. Breach of Health and Safety regulations? An EU directive on the standards of domestic hygiene? Control of Stinking Mud Act?’

‘I was thinking specifically of the manufacture of Class A drugs,’ said Hitchens.

Palfreyman was halted in mid-flow. ‘Drugs? At Pity Wood? Not on my watch.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘It’s ridiculous. I never saw any drugs on my patch, either supply or using. Oh, there might be one or two stuck-up folk who smoke a bit of cannabis in their own home, but nothing that troubles anyone else. Who are you suggesting was involved in manufacturing drugs?’

‘Possibly Tom Farnham.’

Palfreyman shook his head. ‘No, you’ve got that wrong.’

‘We suspect his involvement in the production of methamphetamine at Pity Wood Farm.’

It was then Cooper noticed the ex-PC’s huge hands. They were clenched tightly on the arms of his chair, their blue veins standing out like ropes. Those hands were almost the only sign of a tremendous tension that seemed to have gripped him. When Cooper became aware of it, he looked for other indications. After a moment, he saw that Palfreyman’s entire body was quivering, as if a great volcano of emotion was being suppressed, a hot vat of lava that might burst at any moment. Yet Palfreyman’s face remained impassive in response to the DI’s questions.

Hitchens must have thought he just hadn’t understood.

‘Methamphetamine. That’s a Class A substance known as crystal meth.’

‘Impossible,’ said Palfreyman bluntly. ‘I would have …’ He stopped, and gritted his teeth. ‘Well, I would have known.’

Then the DI gave Cooper a look, inviting him to have a go at the subject.

‘Mr Palfreyman, today I interviewed a Mr Jack Elder, from Rakedale. Do you know him?’

‘I know everyone,’ said Palfreyman, a trifle sullenly.

‘I’d like to ask you about an incident that Mr Elder says took place at Pity Wood Farm, between him and Derek Sutton.’

‘Incident?’

‘I’m sure you remember. You remember everything that happens in Rakedale, don’t you?’

Palfreyman gazed out of his window for a while. The grey mist hung in the woods half a mile away, but it hadn’t reached his property. Not yet.

‘Yes, I got the call to that,’ he said. ‘I had a young probationer with me, showing him the ropes. We responded to a 999, and we blue-lighted to the scene. Got there way ahead of the ambulance. We found Jack Elder bleeding all over the place, and you could see his jaw was broken. Derek had calmed down by then, but Raymond was in a right state. When we arrived, he was pacing up and down the yard, swearing violently. Honestly, he was like Ahab cursing Moby Dick. Sin and damnation, and I don’t know what else.’

‘What did you do?’ asked Cooper.

‘I did the right thing. I had a word with all three of them, then got on to the radio to Control and told them it was a farm accident. We loaded Jack into the ambulance when it came, and he got fixed up. It was the probationer who took the most sorting out, but he did what I told him.’

‘Did that really seem like the best way of dealing with it?’

‘Yes. The thing is, you don’t want a long enquiry and a court case hanging over you, when you’ve got other things to do. Think of all that blasted paperwork, the time you have to spend hanging around outside a courtroom. What’s the point? Is it any better now? No, I can see from your faces that it isn’t. Worse, maybe? I bet you know exactly what it’s like. Once your collar number is on a job, it’ll be round your neck for months, or years.’

‘Derek Sutton committed an assault. What about punishment for his crime? What about the concept of justice?’

‘That’s exactly what it was,’ said Palfreyman. ‘Jack Elder got the justice he deserved.’

‘Was it him who was responsible for the incident with Jo Brindley, too?’

‘Yes, of course. Nasty bugger, Jack. Derek Sutton did us all a favour.’

‘Are you sure Derek was responsible for the assault?’ asked Hitchens.

‘Yes, he admitted it.’

‘Did he have injuries? Scraped knuckles? Blood on his clothes?’

‘Why does it matter?’

‘I just like to get the details accurate, sir.’

‘Yes, we all have to deal with liars, don’t we?’

Hitchens looked up, surprised. ‘Sorry?’

‘You’re asking me all these details to try to catch me out in a lie. I know the technique. That female DS you sent the other day, she bragged about being trained these days. But don’t you find it difficult to have to go through life assuming that everyone is lying to you? Don’t you ever experience trust? Can’t you tell when someone knows what the right thing is to do?’

Neither Hitchens nor Cooper could answer the question. It was rhetorical, surely? Cooper couldn’t think how you would know that. Everyone’s ideas of ‘right’ were different, just as their concepts of justice varied.

Palfreyman sighed at their expressions.

‘God help us. Let me tell you something. There was an incident when I was a young bobby, only two years in, so I was just qualified. You know, nothing actually marked the passing of your two years’ service then. It was supposed to be such a milestone for a new copper, but all I got was a pep talk from the commander, and a quick handshake. The only celebration I can remember is having to buy cakes for the rest of the section. Then we got this misper report. You’ve been working through missing persons on this case, I dare say?’

‘Of course.’

‘Aye. Well, this was a small child that was missing. Three years old, she was, and the parents were screaming the place down. We were FOAs, me and my mate. While he talked to the parents, I made a floorboard check, like you’re supposed to do when you’re sent to a misper report. Especially as it was a child.’

‘In case a member of the family had killed her and hidden her body?’ said Cooper.

‘It happens,’ said Palfreyman. ‘A space under the floorboards, the bottom of a wardrobe, a cupboard below the stairs. Just somewhere to stash the body until the coppers have been and gone. It gives them time to decide how to dispose of her permanently.’