Stephen Booth - The Devil’s Edge

‘He’s not missing much now,’ said Villiers quietly.

Cooper restrained a smile. ‘Have you noticed that there’s one feature we can see from here? If you look down the lane…’

‘Another set of gates. Rather grand ones.’

‘It’s the entrance to Riddings Lodge. Mr Edson. Quite a statement, aren’t they?’

‘And he has CCTV, I imagine?’

‘Oh, yes. Why?’

‘Mr Nowak’s comment. Unlike some of my more wealthy neighbours.’

‘Ah. A little bit of envy creeping through there.’

‘Aren’t those gilt-edged gates all about provoking envy?’

Cooper nodded. ‘Of course. I wonder if there’s any envy of the Barrons, too?’

‘Can we see Valley View from here?’

Cooper pointed down the lane. ‘It’s close to where the road takes a bend there. See the big bank of rhododendrons?’

‘Yes?’

‘Those mark the boundary of the grounds at Riddings Lodge. Valley View and Fourways are on the other side of them.’

‘We’d better move, before Mr Nowak starts getting nervous,’ said Villiers.

The last section of boundary was a stone wall, which ran right up to the rough ground at the foot of Riddings Edge. Over the wall was more Edson territory. But the Nowaks and the Edsons had made sure they couldn’t see each other along this section. The wall was too high for that.

‘What next?’ asked Villiers.

‘I need to speak to Barry Gamble again. And I’m glad to have someone with me this time.’

‘Someone?’

‘Actually,’ said Cooper, ‘I’m glad to have you.’

When they left Lane End, Cooper noticed that his tyres had pushed the gravel up into waves like the wake of a boat. It was laid so deep and soft that every vehicle, no matter how small, must leave this impression. The marks of the Mini Clubman’s tyres would be just as visible as those of his Toyota. He supposed someone must rake this stuff back into place regularly to keep it looking neat. Otherwise there would soon be wheel ruts worn into the drive, and bare earth exposed. And that would never do.

Bare earth? Cooper looked back at the drive again as he reached the gate. If there was bare earth under this gravel, he could see no sign of it. No weeds broke the white surface – not a single blade of grass trying its luck. Someone with a rake and a tank full of systemic weedkiller, then.

A few yards down Curbar Lane, he saw a smart blue van, the signage on its side advertising Garden Landscaping and Design Services, Paving and Driveway Specialists. He stopped when he saw a man in a matching blue overall, and got out to speak to him, showing his warrant card.

‘Excuse me, do you maintain many of the driveways in this area?’

‘Oh, yes. We installed quite a few of them, too.’

‘At Valley View, for instance?’

‘Stone paving, right? A very nice design, that. Expensive, but it lasts well. We installed that about three years ago, when the new owners came in. Oh, isn’t that the people…?’

‘Yes. There’s no gravel on their property, is there? I couldn’t see any.’

He shook his head. ‘Gravel. no. Not at Valley View.’

‘I thought gravel was making a bit of a comeback.’

‘Well, gravel driveways cost less to build, but they need more maintenance. Over time, tyre tracks appear, hollows fill with rain, the surface breaks down. And keeping down weeds and grass is a never-ending job. I’m working on the drive of the house across the road there. If it were me, I’d have put a weed barrier down under the gravel when it was laid. But I didn’t build this one. I just got the maintenance. I’m not complaining, though.’

‘There must be plenty of work.’

‘Oh, aye.’ The man looked at Cooper more closely. ‘My name’s Brian Monk, by the way. This is my company. Well, it belongs to me and my brother. But we thought Monk Brothers sounded odd for a trading name.’

‘A bit too monastic.’

‘Maybe.’ He removed a blue baseball cap and scratched his head. ‘Well, if you’re interested in Riddings, it’s a bit funny round here. You’d think gravel would be a good material to use in a place like this. It matches the predominant stone colouring of the area. Nicely rural, like. And a lot of people just like the crunch of it under a car’s wheels. Some even go for it as a security measure, too – you can hear people coming, you know. But the thing is, you can’t use gravel on a site that has any gradient to speak of. It needs regular top-up, and can be really tricky to keep in place. And there are lots of gradients here, as you can see.’

‘Any other problems with it?’

‘Well, it sprays out everywhere, especially if you like to spin the wheels on your posh convertible.’

Cooper laughed, recognising the view that a tradesman must get of the people he worked for.

‘I bet they complain a lot, don’t they?’

‘You can say that again,’ said Monk. ‘See, I tell them – if you have a lawn next to your gravel driveway, you’re going to have to pay for expensive repairs to mowing equipment. Not to mention the potential damage to people and property if gravel gets spat out at speed by a mower. Then if you get it spreading on to pathways, there’s another hazard. Granules will roll underfoot, and you get people slipping and falling over. Some of these folk are paranoid about getting sued for injuries. If you’re laying gravel, you don‘t lay it any deeper than two inches, otherwise cars sink in. It does depend on the size of the granules, though.’

Cooper produced a piece of the stone he’d collected and bagged from the Barrons’ lawn.

‘What about this, sir?’

Monk peered at it closely. ‘Too small. If it came from a drive, anyway. No, I doubt we laid that stuff. Not here in Riddings.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, it’s a personal choice, but ten-millimetre gravel like this tends to move around more and get stuck in car tyres. We advise people to use a fourteen-or twenty-millimetre stone on driveways.’

‘I see. Thank you, Mr Monk.’

The man looked at him curiously. ‘Is it important?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, I’m not saying it isn’t from round here. Just that it’s unlikely my firm laid it. There are a few other outfits around. I wouldn’t call them cowboys exactly, but not they’re not as well qualified, if you know what I mean. Not so particular about their work. A couple of lads out of a job might decide to set up a little gardening business, mowing lawns and that sort of thing. Then they start branching out. When people ask them if they can do drives or tree surgery, they don’t want to say no. That’s how it happens. I’m not naming any names, you understand. But you might find some around here that answer the description.’

Cooper nodded. ‘Thanks again.’

‘No problem.’

The landscaper went back to work on the house across the road. The driveway looked quite smart to Cooper, but he could see there was an occasional burst of green where a weed had dared to come through.

‘Gravel?’ said Villiers when he got back in the car.

Cooper could hear the laugh in her voice, and turned in his seat, ready to justify himself. Then he saw her face, and he couldn’t help laughing with her. For the first time today he was seeing the old Carol, the one he’d known before she went off to join the services and experienced all the bad things that he was sure must have happened to her.

‘Well, that’s what we’re like in Derbyshire Constabulary,’ he said. ‘We leave no stone unturned.’

Monica Gamble greeted Cooper and Villiers with a sour expression, a resigned look, as if she was always expecting this kind of knock on the door.

‘Mrs Gamble. Is your husband in?’