Stephen Booth - Scared to Live

Yet, when he studied Nichols’ face, Cooper could see that there was still a vestige of the man he’d once been. The bone structure was still there, broad and well-proportioned. A Bulgarian face, of course. He was Nikolov, not Nichols.

Cooper remembered the red phone box on the roadside in Bonsall Dale. It seemed likely that Nikolov had phoned Rose Shepherd from there. And then there had been that final phone call, made from an assassin’s mobile to lead her into his sights. So, in a way, John Lowther wasn’t the only one who’d heard voices. Miss Shepherd had been hearing them, too — voices that had led her to her death.

Suddenly aware of someone standing at his desk, Cooper gave a start and looked up guiltily, not knowing who to expect. But it was Gavin Murfin.

‘I brought you a cup of coffee,’ he said. ‘Since you’re obviously not going to take my advice.’

‘Thanks, Gavin.’

‘No worries. You look as though you could use it.’

At the sound of voices and footsteps, they both turned towards the door. But the voices went further away, down the corridor somewhere. After a minute or two, footsteps returned and the DI’s door closed again.

‘I think they’ve gone,’ said Murfin.

Cooper nodded. ‘But Diane is still in there.’

‘Looks like it. I suppose we’ll find out what’s going on eventually.’ Then Murfin sighed deeply. ‘Or maybe not.’

The squeak of the chair in the DI’s office was really starting to get on Fry’s nerves now. Yet the noise seemed to give Hitchens some perverse pleasure, especially as he’d physically prevented a maintenance man from oiling the thing when she’d suggested it.

‘So do you have any evidence that Luanne Mullen is in imminent danger, Diane?’ he asked when she put her proposal to him after the departure of the Lowthers.

‘Well, no.’

‘Has she ever been mistreated by her father? Has he ever threatened to harm her?’

‘Not that we know of.’

‘What about Brian Mullen himself? A few days ago, you were convinced he was responsible for the fire that killed his family. Have you managed to substantiate a case against him?’

‘No.’

‘So we’ve no cause to arrest him, have we?’

‘No.’

‘And we don’t actually have the slightest bit of proof that he’s done anything wrong.’

‘No. But we should also consider Georgi Kotsev’s theory that Luanne Mullen’s natural father is trying to get her back’

‘Yes, we’d have to take that seriously, if there was evidence,’ said Hitchens. ‘Is there evidence, Diane?’

‘I can’t produce any right now.’

‘You see the problem. No evidence. It’s all supposition.’

‘That might be true, sir. But the fact that Brian Mullen has gone AWOL with the surviving child looks very suspicious to me.’

‘Sadly, he’s not legally obliged to keep us informed of his whereabouts. If he’s taken the child for a trip somewhere, then there’s nothing we can do about it. Nothing at all.’

‘But the Lowthers are being equally secretive. I’m sure they know where Brian is.’

‘Have you asked them?’

‘Of course.’

‘And what do they say?’

‘They say their son-in-law is distressed and needs some time away from being hassled by us.’

Hitchens smiled. ‘I suppose that could be true, too, couldn’t it?’

Fry wasn’t amused. ‘I assure you, sir, I don’t hassle members of the public.’

‘Of course not, Diane. You’re a model of respect and discretion.’

She felt her jaw tighten, and tried to relax her muscles in case she looked too tense or aggressive.

‘But it’s hardly surprising the family feel that way, is it?’ said Hitchens. ‘Let’s not forget that they’ve lost both their children and two of their grandchildren in the course of a week. And now you want to hunt down their son-in-law and their remaining grandchild.’

‘It’s not like that at all.’

‘But that’s the way it’s going to seem to the Lowthers. Let me tell you, I never want to experience as uncomfortable a half hour as I spent with those two people this morning.’

‘I’m certain Brian Mullen is going to turn up at the Matlock Bath illuminations tonight,’ said Fry. ‘As certain as I can be.’

‘Your grounds for that belief seem to be very tenuous, to say the least. Why would he risk taking the child to Matlock Bath?’

‘It was something he’d promised the family. Even with only Luanne left, I think he’ll follow through on the promise. Especially with only Luanne left.’

‘I see.’

‘There’s more. I’m concerned that this visit could be the prelude to a significant act on his part. I think Mr Mullen is planning to do something rash and desperate.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘My feeling is that, unless we find him tonight, it could be too late.’

The DI swivelled his chair again, making Fry grind her teeth with frustration.

‘It’s not like you to base your reactions entirely on gut instinct, Diane. Have you got a personal problem with this case?’

‘No, sir.’

Hitchens watched her, waiting to hear more, perhaps hoping she could give him some solid justification. But Fry had already exhausted what she had to say, and stayed silent.

The DI looked disappointed. ‘Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t authorize an operation to apprehend Mr Mullen at this event in Matlock Bath tonight. I’ve heard nothing to justify the use of resources for such a wild-goose chase. Let alone the effect on the family, which you don’t seem to be taking into consideration. You could land us with an even bigger public relations disaster than we already have.’

Fry stood up to leave. ‘Thank you, sir.’

Hitchens held up a hand to keep her back. ‘You haven’t asked me about Tony Donnelly.’

‘Is there any point?’

‘I re-interviewed him this morning.’

‘How many “no comments” did you get?’

‘A few,’ admitted Hitchens. ‘We’re going to have to put some effort in on Donnelly, interviewing his family, friends, neighbours. His background will have to be looked at, his whereabouts checked, alibis pursued …’

This time, nothing would keep Fry from leaving the DI’s office.

‘Are you sure there’s nothing else you want to talk about, Diane?’ he said.

‘Yes, thank you. Quite sure.’

Cooper saw that he’d been right. There were so many visitors trying to get into Matlock Bath that by five o’clock all the car parks in the village were full. Police officers in yellow jackets were directing long queues of motorists to a park-and-ride facility at the rugby club a mile down the road. The pavements were packed with people queuing at the fish-and-chip shops or eating out of paper packages as they leaned over the railings to gaze at the river, throwing their last few chips to the ducks. Many of the crowd were family groups, young children sitting in pushchairs or strapped to the parents in carriers.

It had already been gloomy enough by half past four to use sidelights as they drove down from Edendale. On the way here, the mood had been sombre. Dead leaves had filled the lay-bys like a yellow tide.

‘I have to remind you that we’re here unofficially,’ said Fry. ‘Strictly speaking, you’re off duty.’

Cooper nodded. ‘We understand that, Diane.’

‘No overtime, then?’ said Murfin.

‘No overtime, Gavin. Sorry.’

Murfin shrugged. ‘It gets me out of the house. And it means you can’t tell me not to eat fish and chips while I’m working, right?’

‘Right.’ Fry looked at Kotsev. ‘Georgi? There’s no obligation on you to be here at all.’

‘What else would I be doing? Sitting in my hotel watching English television? I wish to be part of the team.’