Стивен Бут: Dead in the Dark

When Lacey stood up, Frances saw a red stain spreading rapidly on his white shirt. And something else. A wooden handle protruding from his side, just below the ribs.

‘Is he...?’

And Lacey said: ‘Yes, Auntie. He’s dead.’

It was market day in Shirebrook. But the market traders were already packing up to go home, loading their unsold goods into a small fleet of Transit vans, while council workers began to dismantle the stalls.

DCI Alistair Mackenzie had bought himself a burger from a fast-food van. The smell of fried onions was turning Diane Fry’s stomach.

‘So that’s it,’ said Mackenzie through a mouth full of burger. ‘Job done.’

‘Krystian Zalewski was trying to prevent a street robbery,’ said Fry. ‘He came to the assistance of a woman who was struggling with two men. That was how he got stabbed.’

‘And the woman ran off when the attackers turned their attention to Zalewski.’

‘Nikki Frost, yes. She ran away as fast as she could and went home. I don’t suppose we can blame her for that. She had no idea what happened after she left. And she didn’t know Zalewski either. Even when she saw his photograph in the local paper, she didn’t recognise him. She only made the connection when someone pointed out the spot where he’d been attacked. It was then she realised he was her rescuer, and he was dead. I feel very sorry for her.’

Fry felt as though her last words were lost in the cacophony of diesel engines and steel tubes being thrown on to the back of a trailer. Mackenzie looked at her with an expression of dissatisfaction.

‘And how come Divisional CID got the suspects in custody before we did?’ he said.

Fry took a deep breath. She’d been asking herself the same question.

‘They just had a lucky break,’ she said. ‘It happens, sir.’

‘A body-worn camera?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Technology.’

‘And luck,’ repeated Fry. ‘It was just a coincidence.’

‘A coincidence? More of an inconvenience.’

‘I appreciate that, sir.’

‘Did you have any suspicion that it would turn out this way, Diane?’

‘No. It was a complete surprise to me,’ said Fry. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No need to apologise. They were circumstances out of your control. Out of anyone’s control.’

‘We’re on it now. A murder charge takes precedence.’

Mackenzie wiped his hands on a paper napkin and dropped it into a litter bin. A man on a mobility scooter buzzed past them, just missing Mackenzie’s toes. There seemed to be a lot of mobility scooters in Shirebrook. A lot of old people’s bungalows. A lot of England flags.

‘DS Fry...’ said Mackenzie.

‘Sir?’

‘Please try to make sure the next thing that happens is neither a coincidence, an inconvenience — or a surprise.’

‘Of course.’

‘So are we finished in Shirebrook? We’ve got the suspects locked up, we’ve got the statements we need. It’s just a matter of doing the paperwork and putting our case together for the CPS.’

‘There’s just one more job I want to do here,’ said Fry.

Mackenzie raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question her. ‘Do you need DC Callaghan?’

‘Not really.’

‘Well, keep him anyway, Diane. I’ll leave you to it. See you both back at St Ann’s.’

Fry watched him head back to his car. The stalls were almost gone now, the Transit vans had left. The marketplace would be empty and deserted again soon, just the way it had been when she first arrived in Shirebrook. Had anything changed in these last few days? It wasn’t very likely.

When Ben Cooper and Carol Villiers arrived back at the rendezvous point in Lathkill Dale, the DCRO controller came forward to meet him. The man took off his helmet and ran a hand through his hair. There were streaks of mud on his face like camouflage paint, and more stains in his beard.

‘We’ve looked in all the accessible places,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing there.’

‘Well, that just means we’ll have to look in all the inaccessible places,’ said Cooper impatiently.

‘Where do you mean?’

Cooper hesitated. ‘I’m not sure. But that’s where we’ll have to look.’

‘Well, if you can show us, we’ll look. Otherwise—’

He looked around the dale, with its steep slopes covered in trees and dense undergrowth, rising to limestone cliffs.

‘Where is the main mine building from here?’ asked Cooper.

The man pointed. ‘Up the slope and towards the right. There’s no path from here though. You’ll have to hack your way through.’

‘I’ll manage.’

‘ We ,’ said Villiers. ‘I’ll come with you, Ben.’

A few minutes later, Cooper was working his way up the hillside with difficulty. Villiers had moved ahead of him and was ten yards further up the slope, pushing aside the branches of an overgrown elder tree and tramping down a patch of nettles. She was stamping on the weeds as if she really hated them, which perhaps she did. Some people were prone to get a bad reaction to nettle stings.

He looked down at his feet as he felt his toe catch on a root and had to stretch out his arms to keep his balance. He laughed at his awkwardness and wondered if Carol had seen him almost fall.

But when he looked up again, Carol Villiers had gone.

With a cold feeling gripping her heart, Diane Fry pushed open the scuffed door and walked into Geoff Pollitt’s shop in Shirebrook marketplace.

‘Wait out there, Jamie,’ she called. ‘I just want to have a word with Mr Pollitt alone.’

Callaghan hesitated. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea, Diane?’

‘I won’t be long.’

Pollitt straightened up from behind the counter when she entered. He didn’t look directly at Fry, but gazed past her to see who she’d brought with her. When he saw she was alone, he smirked.

‘Can I help you with something, Sergeant?’ he said.

‘Why, what exactly are you selling?’

‘Nothing that would interest you. Maybe you should try next door at the pet shop? They sell peanuts for monkeys.’

‘We raided a house down at the Model Village on Wednesday,’ said Fry.

‘I heard. Not one of mine.’

‘No, but we do know about yours, Mr Pollitt.’

He went a little pale.

‘You can’t do. You’re just trying it on.’

Fry ignored him. He was right, of course. She was trying it on. But sometimes you had to bluff a bit. She hoped she was making him uneasy. When people were unsettled, they made mistakes, perhaps blurted out the wrong thing. It was something to hope for.

‘It’s all over, isn’t it?’ said Pollitt. ‘They say you got two blokes for doing in the Pole upstairs.’

‘Yes, we did.’ Fry looked up at the ceiling. Yes, the bloodstain was still here. It looked darker now. That could be bacteria growing on the blood. It wouldn’t meet approval from a health and safety inspection. But then, what in this shop would?

‘We’re not leaving Shirebrook just yet,’ she said.

‘Why not?’ said Pollitt. ‘Are you starting to feel at home?’

Fry gave a bag of cat litter an experimental kick. It gave way under the toe of her shoe and a slit let out a trickle of granules. The crunch felt very satisfying. But it wasn’t the only thing she wanted to kick.

‘We’ve been watching your shop,’ she said. ‘You get a lot of visitors, don’t you? People who don’t seem to buy very much.’ She looked around the bare shelves. ‘Not anything that you have on display anyway.’

‘So?’

‘So what are they doing here? Are you having meetings?’

‘Okay, yes. I get together with like-minded people sometimes. There’s no law against that, is there?’