Stephen Booth - The Devil’s Edge

‘Look at these people here,’ said Nowak with a wave of his hand. ‘They don’t have the least bit of consideration for their neighbours. Rude, arrogant, ignorant, offensive, supercilious, inconsiderate, selfish, vulgar, nasty, self-obsessed…’ He took a deep breath. ‘Words fail me.’

‘So I see.’

Nowak smiled, in a moment of self-awareness. ‘Well, I could think of a few more names, given time.’

‘Those will do. We get the general impression.’

‘It’s a shame,’ he said. ‘This would be such a nice place to live, without…’

‘Other people?’

‘Yes, I suppose so. It sounds bad when you say it out loud, doesn’t it? Very antisocial. But we – my family and I – we value our privacy, you see. Our peace and quiet is very precious to us. There are some things that you have to be prepared to fight for. Don’t you think that’s true, Sergeant?’

Cooper and Villiers left the house and found their way back down the drive of Lane End to where Cooper had parked his car. A builder’s van was squeezing past, and he wondered whether he ought to emulate the residents of Riddings and fold his offside wing mirror in to avoid damage. But the van driver seemed to be used to the narrowness of the lanes, and he made it through without any problem.

It was funny how different the attitudes of Barry Gamble and Richard Nowak were towards their neighbours. One seemed to be a self-appointed vigilante, and claimed to be concerned about his neighbours’ welfare, while the other admitted openly that he couldn’t give a damn.

Well, that was what they said. The difference might only be on the surface. Underneath, their level of hostility could be exactly the same.

As he started the car, Cooper thought about the last thing Nowak had said. Everyone had a different idea of what was worth fighting for in their lives. Many people would say their families were the most precious thing they had, that they would fight to the death to protect their children. But it depended what sort of life you lived. He saw many individuals in the course of his job who had thought it worth fighting over a perceived insult, a lack of respect, a spilled drink, or a casual glance at their girlfriend. What seemed trivial from the outside could take on an immense importance in someone’s else’s mind. It was all a matter of perspective.

Murfin, Hurst and Irvine were waiting by the horse trough. No sooner had Cooper and Villiers arrived than a black Audi drew up alongside, with the passenger window already lowered.

‘I don’t mean any disrespect,’ said the driver. ‘But…’

‘We need to get a grip, I suppose?’ said Cooper.

‘Pretty much.’

‘Thank you, sir. I’ll bear it in mind.’

‘Are you being impertinent? I’ll speak to your superiors.’

‘Supervisor, sir. We don’t have superiors any more.’

Cooper turned back to his team.

‘Carol, I want you and Becky to visit Mr Gamble on Chapel Close. Seize his dark grey fleece, his brown corduroys and his fell boots.’

‘Why?’

‘We’re going to have them analysed for trace evidence.’

‘Okay.’

‘Then we’re going to take him with us to Valley View. I’ll meet you at his house.’

‘What about me?’ said Murfin. ‘Not more house-to-house. I’m dying here, Ben.’

‘Gavin, you can’t die until I tell you to.’

Murfin sighed. ‘Okay, boss. But it’s that hill. Let the kids do the uphill work. That’s what they’re for.’

‘They’re not packhorses.’

‘What?’

‘Never mind. Just something I was thinking about. Anyway, Gavin, you can come with me to Riddings Lodge to talk to Russell Edson.’

‘Oh, it’ll be a pleasure. Some of his luck might rub off on me.’

‘Why, do you play the lottery?’ asked Cooper.

‘No. But I can get lucky in other ways, can’t I?’

‘What, at your age?’

‘Ha, ha.’

Russell Edson was watching a man in waterproof trousers wash his metallic blue Jaguar XF. The door of one of the garages stood open, and Cooper glimpsed a shrouded shape. A vehicle so precious that it couldn’t be exposed to dust or sunlight.

‘My handyman, Stanley. You have his name on your list. I gave all the information I could to your colleague here.’

Edson nodded towards Murfin, somehow managing to instil an immense depth of disdain into a simple gesture.

‘Yes, we have all that, thank you.’

‘So what else can I do for the constabulary?’

‘I think you said you employ a gardening contractor, sir.’

‘Of course. Look at these grounds. They need to be kept immaculate.’

‘Would it be AJS Gardening Services?’

‘Are you joking? They might be all right for some people. But I expect something a bit more professional. We do have standards.’

‘So…?’

‘I have a contract with Mr Monk.’

‘And for the driveway?’

He smiled. ‘The same. It applies to everything here. If it needs maintenance, I get a man in.’

‘I presume you also have security procedures.’

‘Naturally. However – I’m sorry, but I’m not prepared to discuss my security arrangements, even with the constabulary. You can never be entirely sure that information won’t be passed on.’

Murfin had become very silent and still. Although Russell Edson hadn’t looked at him at all, there was a palpable tension between them. This was one of the things Cooper had wanted to see. You couldn’t get a proper impression of somebody until you saw them interacting in different situations, with a number of different people.

‘There was one thing I don’t think my colleague asked you, sir,’ he said.

Edson was frowning at the handyman, as if he wasn’t polishing the hub caps of his Jag brightly enough.

‘Yes?’

‘Just for the record, sir, where were you on Tuesday evening?’

‘What, when the incident took place at Valley View?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Is there a necessity for me to have an alibi?’

‘For the record.’

Edson sighed. ‘Well, we were out for dinner.’

‘Oh? Where did you eat?’

‘Bauers, at Warren Hall.’

Cooper knew the place, and was impressed. ‘Very nice. Special occasion?’

Edson raised an eyebrow. ‘No.’

Okay, so that sounded like a put-down. And it probably wouldn’t be the last, either. Cooper decided to probe a bit further and see what sort of reaction he got.

‘Can you remember what you had to eat, sir?’

‘Oh, let’s see. We’ve been so many times it’s difficult to recall.’ Edson smiled. ‘But I think I had the Gressingham duck, glazed in roasted hazelnuts, with breast of quail for the first course. Mother had… yes, I think she chose the pan-fried sea bass. She tends to change her mind a couple of times when she’s looking at the menu, you know. But I think that’s an accurate recollection. Oh, I haven’t told you what she started with.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘No, no, we must be accurate. For the record.’

Cooper stifled a sigh. ‘Right.’

‘Well, she’s particularly fond of the foie gras. It’s one of the reasons we go to Bauer’s so often. They have a strict policy on their foie gras. It comes only from one specific French supplier, who produces it from Moulard ducks. The Moulard is a migratory breed that naturally gorges itself to prepare for long flights, and it’s totally free-range. So there’s no force-feeding, you see. The bird has a naturally large liver as a result of its lifestyle. These things are very important to us. We’re particular about where we eat. We don’t exactly go for the standard pub lunch.’

‘And plenty of alcohol consumption, I imagine.’

‘Sophisticated alcohol. We’re not lager louts.’