Stephen Booth - The Devil’s Edge

‘It’s a possibility. DS Cooper’s team have been interviewing the Barrons’ immediate neighbours. Want to give us an idea of the lie of the land, Ben?’

Cooper stood up. This was the part of the briefing he’d been preparing for. A map of Riddings had been projected on to a monitor so that the whole room could see it. The names of properties and householders had been written in.

‘This is Curbar Lane, where our inquiry is centred. The Barrons live here, at Valley View. As you can see, the grounds are quite extensive. No neighbouring property overlooks the house, or the drive. If you were going to choose a location where you wouldn’t be seen by the neighbours, this is certainly it.’

He consulted his notes, making sure he was absolutely accurate. It would be bad to get confused at this stage.

‘Just along Curbar Lane, we have the Hollands at Fourways,’ he said. ‘Martin and Sarah. He’s a retired commercial lawyer. No connection with the Barrons, so far as we can tell. Then here we have the Chadwicks at The Cottage. Last night, they were out on Riddings Edge.’

‘In the dark, Sergeant?’

‘Watching for shooting stars,’ said Cooper. ‘It was supposed to be one of the best nights for observing the Perseid meteor shower.’

There was a bit of laughter. For some reason, it made Cooper feel more relaxed.

‘The Chadwicks’ property is shown on the map as Nether Croft, but they renamed it. William Chadwick is a head teacher, currently on suspension following an incident with a pupil.’

‘Which school?’

‘Black Brook High.’

‘In Sheffield.’

That was the same voice, the person who’d mentioned Sheffield before. Cooper could see him at the back now – a detective he didn’t know, probably drafted in from C Division. He looked like a veteran, one of Gavin Murfin’s generation, with an expression that suggested he’d seen it all before.

‘Yes, Black Brook High School is in Sheffield,’ said Cooper. ‘In the Fulwood area, to the west of the city. Only eight miles from Riddings, if it’s relevant.’

‘Well, we don’t know what’s relevant, do we?’

Cooper wondered if he’d encountered the detective before, maybe rubbed him up the wrong way somehow. But it was more likely that he was this way with anyone. There always had to be the awkward squad.

‘At the back, we have Mr and Mrs Nowak at Lane End, and a Mr Russell Edson at Riddings Lodge. The Nowaks’ property can be accessed from The Hill, which is the main road through Riddings. But there’s also a lane here, which leads past the Chadwicks’ gate to Riddings Lodge, then on to Lane End.’

‘Russell Edson is rumoured to be a lottery winner,’ chipped in Murfin.

‘I hate him already,’ said the voice at the back.

‘The one immediate neighbour we haven’t spoken to is Mr Kaye at Moorside House. That’s the biggest property on Curbar Lane, the other side of the Barrons. There’s a housekeeper in residence, though. She says Mr Kaye is in Florida.’

‘It’s all right for some.’

‘But he’s due back in the country later this week, so we might get a chance to speak to him. I doubt he’ll be able to tell us much if he hasn’t been around.’

‘Tyler K,’ said Irvine.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘That’s his professional name. He started off as a rapper and DJ on the club scene in Sheffield. Then he opened his own club and went into promotion and management. I heard he has five or six clubs now. Manchester, Leeds, Birmingham. He’s done really well for himself, considering he was just some kid off the Manor Estate.’

‘Could he have criminal connections?’

‘Well, I don’t think you can assume that,’ said Irvine defensively.

‘It’s possible, though. Likely, even. We’ll do some checking.’

‘He wasn’t even in the country.’

‘That’s the best sort of alibi. It’s a question of known associates.’

Irvine went quiet and slumped in his chair, casting a frustrated glance at Becky Hurst. He looked sorry to have spoken.

‘As you can see, those properties cover all the possible approaches to Valley View, with one exception. If our suspects approached along Curbar Lane, they would either have to pass Fourways, which would mean coming through the centre of the village, or they would have to come from the direction of Curbar, past Moorside House. The back of the property borders on to the garden of Riddings Lodge, with The Cottage and Lane End directly across this lane. From any one of these directions, the suspects must have known they were likely to pass witnesses.’

‘And the one exception?’

‘It’s obvious.’ Cooper pointed to the eastern boundary of the Barrons’ property. ‘On this side, there are no neighbours. There isn’t anybody. On this side, there is nothing. It leads only to the edge.’

DNA and trace evidence had gone to the lab. Normally, results would take a week, but the extra expense had been approved to make them a rush job, so they might expect something within forty-eight hours or so.

Fingerprints ought to be back tomorrow, even with a complete search of the national database. It was good to have a shortlist of suspects to compare prints against, but there was no list in this case, not even a shortlist of one.

‘It’ll be the husband,’ said Murfin as the briefing came to an end. ‘You’ll see, it’s always the husband.’

‘The husband is in hospital with serious head injuries,’ pointed out Cooper.

‘That’s a minor quibble.’

‘You don’t believe in the Savages, then?’

Murfin snorted. ‘There are plenty of savages out there. Some of them work in this building. Have you seen that custody sergeant?’

‘Are you with us on this, Gavin? Because it has to be everyone pulling together.’

Murfin looked startled. ‘Of course. I was only kidding.’

‘Yeah, okay.’

Murfin was still regarding him curiously.

‘What?’

‘I’ve never noticed before,’ said Murfin.

‘What are you on about?’

‘Since you got to be DS, I’ve never noticed how much you’re starting to sound like Diane Fry.’

The divisional CID teams would get the legwork, of course. As expected, Cooper was put in charge of house-to-house in Riddings. The SIO wanted a detailed map of the village showing all the properties near the Barrons, every lane, every footpath and every rabbit track. The attackers must have approached and left by some route, however obscure. And with a bit of luck, someone might have seen them.

‘If they knew the area, they must have been in the village before,’ said Cooper, as Irvine came over to join them. ‘An earlier visit to get an idea of the layout, the routes in and out. Make sure you ask about the last few weeks. Any strangers acting in a suspicious manner, or asking questions. They might have posed as inquisitive hikers, or as potential house buyers looking to move into the village. You know the sort of thing, some trick to get information out of the residents.’

‘The thing is,’ said Irvine, ‘you can get a lot of what you need online these days. All they had to do was log in to Google Street View. And there are plenty of aerial maps on the internet.’

An aerial view was of limited use, though. It might show you the layout of buildings and where driveways ran. But it didn’t tell you anything about the lie of the land, whether you would be hidden from view by those trees, what windows were on this side of the house, whether there was a dip in the terrain to conceal your approach, or would you be marching downhill in full view of the whole world?

So what about Street View? But that only showed the public roads. And in Riddings, the view of many of the properties was hidden from the Google camera van. If Cooper was a burglar, he thought, he wasn’t sure he would get what he needed from it.