Стивен Бут - Blind to the Bones

‘Wasn’t Neil Granger in the group, too?’ he said.

‘Oh yes,’ said Scott. ‘He was the Bagman — the secretary, sort of thing. But he had new ideas.’

‘What sort of ideas?’

‘Well, this year, he wanted everyone to go and dance up the sun on May Day.’

‘Dance up the sun? You mean a ceremony at dawn?’

‘That’s it. Neil said it was a tradition in other places. If you ask me, he’d got that from the vicar. But Dad told him it’s never been a tradition here, so we weren’t doing it. And that was that, really.’

‘So there was a disagreement? Was that why Neil left the rehearsal before anyone else on Friday night?’

‘Could have been,’ said Scott. ‘But he was stubborn, was Neil. He didn’t give up on the idea, did he?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, I reckon that’s why he was up there by the air shaft next morning. He said that was the best place to see the dawn come up. I think he went to prove a point and show it was possible. But none of us would have gone up there with him.’

‘Are you sure?’ said Cooper.

‘Sure. Dad would have killed us.’

The others nodded and laughed. They began to wipe their faces, smearing their black make-up into grotesque patterns as they waited for Cooper to leave.

Fran Oxley took Cooper through into the next room to get away from the young men, who had raided her fridge for cold drinks.

‘It was just something I wanted to tell you about Neil,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose you’ll believe me, but I had to say it.’

‘Yes?’

‘I know your lot will be assuming he was up to no good and got himself killed through his own fault.’

‘Well, not necessarily...’ began Cooper, wondering how she had seen that so clearly. Was the thinking of the police really so predictable?

‘You don’t need to deny it. I know how it works. I’ve seen it often enough round here. For what it’s worth, I wanted to tell you that Neil was all right. One of the best. He was a hard worker, and he was honest, too. He wouldn’t have got involved in anything he shouldn’t. Well, not unless...’

‘What?’

‘Well, he had his views on what’s right and what’s wrong, that’s all.’

Cooper wondered how far he could push his luck with Fran Oxley. But he was here now, so he might as well try.

‘You know the young woman who went missing — Emma Renshaw? What do you think Neil’s relationship with her was?’

Fran laughed. ‘Oh, that theory again. You’re totally blinkered when you get an idea into your heads, aren’t you? Neil must have attacked Emma Renshaw, mustn’t he? He must have done her in somewhere. He was just the type, after all. That would be very convenient.’

Cooper began to shake his head. ‘That’s not quite the way it works.’

‘No? Well, you can forget it. Because Neil wasn’t in the least bit interested in Emma Renshaw. For a very good reason.’

‘You mean because he was gay?’

‘You know? Who told you?’

‘Neil’s brother.’

Fran frowned. ‘Philip told you? But why?’

‘I’m sure he thought he was helping. He wants us to find the person who killed Neil and not waste our time looking at things that aren’t relevant.’

But Fran continued to look baffled.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said Cooper. ‘Have I spoiled your revelation?’

He regretted his tone as soon as her mouth screwed up into an expression of contempt. He might have ruined his one chance of getting some information voluntarily from one of the Oxleys.

‘I suppose you’d better go, then,’ she said. ‘I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know.’

‘There’s one other thing,’ said Cooper, as she stood to see him out.

‘Yeah?’

‘What about Craig?’

Fran stopped quite still. ‘Craig?’

‘Your brother, is he? Or another cousin?’

She stared at him speechlessly. Cooper knew he was close to something. But would she tell him? He was pushing his luck.

‘Come on, Fran. Talk to me about Craig.’

She walked towards the door, and Cooper thought he had lost the chance. But then Fran turned, and her eyes glittered when she spoke. Her voice had risen, too. It was as if she had put distance between herself and Cooper to give space for her anger.

‘You want to know about Craig, do you?’ she said. ‘Well, I’ll tell you about Craig. He got himself into trouble and ended up in court. That had happened before, but the last time it was serious. When they sentenced him, he should have gone to a local authority secure unit, but there were no places available. They said it was because they’d been having a crackdown on persistent young offenders, and the secure units were all full.’

‘So he was sent to the young offenders’ institution at Hindley,’ said Cooper.

‘Yes. But he’s not there any more.’

‘He’s out? Where did he go?’

Fran turned her face away, and didn’t answer straight away.

‘He’s back here in Withens,’ she said.

Cooper frowned. Had the Oxleys been hiding Craig after all?

‘In that case, I need to speak to him,’ he said.

‘Oh, yes? If you’ve got psychic talents, go ahead. But other than that, you’re wasting your time.’

Cooper’s heart sank. ‘What do you mean, Fran?’

‘It’s as near as you’ll get, without going to the graveyard.’

Fran’s attempt to seem unconcerned wasn’t working. Cooper could see her face starting to redden and become strained with the effort of holding back tears.

‘Craig couldn’t stand it in Hindley,’ she said. ‘He didn’t see any way that he was ever going to get out of places like that, because he thought the system had him marked down for a life in prison. Worse, he couldn’t cope with being away from the family for so long among all those strangers. There was no one he could talk to, to tell them what he was feeling. He was on hourly checks, but it wasn’t enough. In the end, he hanged himself in his cell. He wasn’t the first, so we’re told. And I don’t suppose he’ll be the last.’

Diane Fry and Gavin Murfin were almost home when Fry took a call on her mobile from Sarah Renshaw. It was almost as if they had known she was thinking about them. It was getting very late, but she’d given the Renshaws her number in case they thought of anything useful. And when Sarah rang, she sounded almost panicky.

‘There’s a teddy bear missing,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘One of Emma’s teddy bears is missing.’

Fry stared at Murfin in astonishment. This was a bizarre turn, even for Sarah Renshaw. Murfin leaned over to try to listen to the call, and the car veered towards the centre of the road. But it was quiet at this time of night, and there was hardly any traffic.

‘I don’t think that concerns me, Mrs Renshaw,’ said Fry.

‘But where has it gone?’

‘Does it matter? It’s only a teddy bear. There are plenty more.’

‘No, this was a special one,’ said Sarah. ‘We were looking for it to put on display for our Emma Day, but it isn’t there.’

Fry sighed. Another special one. The first that her parents had given her, which now sat on the leather settee. The last one they’d given her, which sat at the breakfast table. So what was special about this one?

‘This is a Chiltern golden plush teddy from 1930,’ said Sarah. ‘It’s worth at least five hundred pounds.’

‘Really?’

‘They’re rather rare.’

‘An antique teddy bear?’

‘Yes.’

Fry sat bolt upright with interest. ‘When did you last see this bear?’

Outside the Deardens’ house, Shepley Head Lodge, the night was far from quiet for anyone who knew how to listen. Rats began to scurry along the outer walls of the house, stopping suddenly to sniff at small objects and roll them in their claws as they scavenged for food. Tiny pipistrelle bats spilled out of a gap in the roof tiles of the outbuildings and flitted backwards and forwards across the yard, darting at moths and night-flying insects.