Стивен Бут - Dead in the Dark

Fry shook her head. The idea that some of these people were still fighting the Miners’ Strike from 1984 didn’t make any sense to her. She had a suspicion Ben Cooper was right, though. He knew this place and she didn’t. She would probably never know it, no matter how much time she spent here. She would always been an observer, an outsider, just like she’d been in Edendale. Someone who didn’t belong.

She recalled her last meeting with Ben Cooper in Edendale. That case of the suicide tourists. And for a while she thought it had been the last meeting between them too. It had been the way Cooper said ‘Goodbye, Diane’ in that casual yet final way. She left Edendale feeling a period of her life had come to an end, and surprised by a sudden turmoil of mixed emotions she couldn’t explain.

How could two words do that to her? They were simple enough. Just an ordinary ‘goodbye’. He was distracted by something else as she was leaving and he hadn’t looked at her as he spoke. That was all it was. That was all.

It was ridiculous that she should start trying to read deeper meaning into everything people said or did. Not now. She’d avoided it all her life, had watched people doing it and had shaken her head in pity. Such futility in attempting to second-guess what someone else was thinking, so much pain you could cause yourself by dwelling on the possible meaning of a word, an expression, a casual gesture. It was a tragic waste of time and emotional energy, not something Diane Fry would do. She was immune to all that. She left it to the Ben Coopers of the world.

She turned and unlocked the car.

‘Come on, then, Jamie,’ she said.

‘Where are we going?’ asked Callaghan in surprise.

‘The pub?’

He smiled. ‘If you say so, Sergeant.’

Ben Cooper was still distracted as he came out of Buxton Opera House with Chloe Young. Walking through the tiled lobby and down a flight of steps, he looked everywhere, staring at the crowds of opera goers.

‘That execution...’ Young was saying. ‘Well, I suppose he was just a painter.’

Cooper stopped suddenly. ‘There she is.’

‘What?’

‘It’s her, I’m sure of it.’

‘Ben—’

He let go of Young’s arm and ran down the steps, dodging between the crowds. He caught up with a group of three people, two women and a man, who were heading towards the taxi rank.

Breathless, Cooper came up behind them and touched one of the women on the shoulder. She spun round with a small cry of surprise.

‘Who are you?’ she said.

The man pushed himself in between her and Cooper.

‘What’s going on here, friend?’

Automatically, Cooper pulled out his warrant card and held it in front of the man. But he was looking only at the woman. Now that he stood right in front of her, he realised that she looked nothing like Annette Bower. Well, a bit perhaps. She was the same height, same build, and had the same colour of hair. The style of it was different, but that was to be expected. What he noticed most that she was too young. He’d been looking at photographs of Annette Bower from at least ten years ago.

‘So you’re police? What have we done?’

‘Nothing, sir,’ said Cooper.

He spoke to the woman. ‘I’m sorry to startle you. Can I ask your name?’

‘Hannah,’ she said. She was starting to relax now and smiled at him quizzically. ‘Hannah Moulton. These are my parents.’

‘I think I made a mistake,’ said Cooper. ‘I’ve confused you with someone else.’

‘That’s all right.’

‘Are we free to go, then?’ asked her father.

‘Of course. I’m sorry,’ he said again. ‘There’s no reason to panic.’

Cooper jumped as an alarm began to sound. He looked around for a car flashing its lights, but it wasn’t coming from the street. The woman he’d approached looked flustered and began to dig in her bag. It took her a minute or two to pull out a rape alarm and turn it off. She sensed him watching and met his eye with a small shrug and a rueful smile. Sometimes there was no reason to panic. It could just be a false alarm.

‘Sorry,’ she said.

‘No problem.’

Cooper stood and watched the group get into a taxi. People passed him on either side, with the occasional wary or amused glance.

He turned and found Chloe Young standing behind him, shaking her head in bemusement. She looked as though she didn’t know whether to laugh or not.

Across the road from the Opera House, geraniums gleamed in hanging baskets lining an arcade. A young man was half-heartedly asking passers-by for change. He was wearing a slouch beanie hat that made him look like an overgrown garden gnome.

They’d decided to try the theatre menu at the Old Hall Hotel. Chloe had been tempted by the salmon terrine and the pan-fried sea bass with crushed new potatoes, samphire and lemon butter sauce. Cooper chose tian of crab and apple salad, followed by fillet of pork with black pudding mashed potato, creamed cabbage, and whole grain mustard sauce.

According to the plaque on the wall outside, Mary Queen of Scots had stayed here between 1576 and 1578. Well, not exactly in this building, since the present hotel was built in 1670. It was likely that a lot of other events had happened here in the last three hundred and fifty years. Cooper was pretty sure he’d been to a wedding reception at the Old Hall some years ago. So it had played a part in his own life, in a way.

He looked across the table at Chloe Young. She was eyeing him speculatively over a forkful of sea bass.

‘I suppose I seemed to have behaved a bit oddly in the opera house,’ he said.

‘I’m not sure. Isn’t that the way you normally behave?’

‘Only when I’ve got a bit too involved in an inquiry.’

‘And how often is that?’

He laughed. ‘Quite often, to be honest.’

‘I thought that might be the case.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, don’t apologise. I like it. It means you’re dedicated. Passionate about your job. That’s a good thing, in my book.’

‘And you’re the same?’

‘Yes, I think I am,’ said Young. ‘Though I try not to embarrass myself in public too often.’

Cooper laughed. ‘You didn’t get the murder victim from Shirebrook, did you?’

‘Not in my mortuary. It’s in a different area. But I heard about it. Sad case.’

‘Mmm.’

He was conscious of Young watching him closely as he ate. Her eyes were keen. She didn’t miss very much, he was sure.

‘Is something else bothering you, Ben?’ she said.

‘Oh, just that it’s Friday tomorrow.’

‘The start of the weekend? People usually look happier about that.’

‘No, sorry. I mean — it’s my sister-in-law, my brother’s wife Kate. She has an appointment at the hospital.’

‘Nothing serious, I hope?’

‘It could be.’

‘I see. Well, she’ll be in good hands.’

‘I hope so.’

‘You care about her, don’t you?’

Cooper was taken aback.

‘I care about them all — Matt, Kate, their two girls Amy and Josie. They’re my family.’

‘There’s no need to feel embarrassed about that. I like it.’

There was more meaning in her gaze than he dared to acknowledge. Cooper felt a sudden rush of emotion, a feeling that he would like to spend the rest of his life with this woman. But it was too soon. He had to take it more slowly.

He toyed with his mashed potato, seeking a way to change the subject. He let a few moments pass, hoping it would feel more natural.

‘So how are you liking being back working in Derbyshire?’ he asked.

‘I love it,’ she said. ‘It’s like coming home.’

He felt himself relax. ‘I’m glad you feel that way.’

‘I’m starting to think that I’d like to live further out this way rather than in the suburbs of Sheffield. Totley is nice, and it’s close to the Peak District of course. But it isn’t quite the same.’