Cooper and Fry Crime Fiction Series Books 1-3: Black Dog, Dancing With the Virgins, Blood on the Tongue. Stephen Booth

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СКАЧАТЬ of comment, quickly hushed. Ben Cooper saw the DI look round and grin at Fry.

      ‘Mr and Mrs Vernon are coming in today to film their television appeal, which will be broadcast later,’ said Tailby. ‘We are, of course, hopeful of some results from the public.’ He smiled to himself as he said it – a small, self-mocking smile, as he thought of the phone calls that would certainly pour in from the cranks and the eccentrics, the over-zealous and the neurotic, the well-intentioned but mistaken, and the sad, sad cases desperate for a bit of attention. From among the hundreds there might, though, be one or two calls that would provide vital help.

      The DCI looked down at his checklist. ‘Have we anything on Daniel Vernon yet? Who’s on that?’

      A burly DC leaning against the side wall raised a hand in acknowledgement.

      ‘Yes, Weenink?’

      ‘I checked with his faculty at Exeter University. Vernon is about to start the second year of the political science course. It’s social dialectics this term, apparently. I always thought that was a sort of sexual disease.’ Weenink waited for the expected laughs, smirking as he thrust his hands into his pockets and slouched more casually. ‘Term doesn’t start for another two weeks, but the new intake, the first years, arrive before that to register and find their way about, get fixed up with digs, all that sort of thing.’

      ‘But Daniel Vernon is a second-year student,’ said Tailby impatiently.

      ‘He’s a buddy,’ responded Weenink.

      ‘What?’

      ‘Some of the established students turn up early to give advice to the newcomers. Some of the kids turn up at university on their own and they’ve never been away from home before. The older ones befriend them. They call them buddies.’

      ‘You found this out from the faculty?’

      ‘From the Students’ Union. Vernon checked in there on Saturday morning and worked over the weekend meeting new students. The Union president remembers him being called away sometime Monday night.’

      ‘And he arrived home on Tuesday? How? Has he a car? Did he use the train?’

      Weenink shrugged. ‘Don’t know, sir.’

      ‘I’d like you to concentrate on pinning his movements down precisely,’ said Tailby. ‘I need to know whether we can eliminate Daniel Vernon from the enquiry. Laura Vernon was seen talking to a young man in the garden at the Mount just before she disappeared on Saturday night. That could just as easily have been Daniel as any boyfriend, unless he has a solid alibi for the period.’ He waited for Weenink to nod his understanding. ‘Meanwhile, as you all know, we have Lee Sherratt in custody, thanks to a bit of initiative last night by DCs Cooper and Fry.’

      The DCI said the word ‘initiative’ as if he wasn’t entirely sure it was something he approved of. It was, after all, contrary to current philosophies. Policework was now a team activity, a question of routine legwork and good communication, comparing and correlating, inputting vast amounts of data and seeing what came out of the computer or what matched up at the forensics lab. Unplanned night-time arrests in remote spots by off-duty detectives did not fit the plan.

      Cooper was still smarting from an early-morning dressing-down by Hitchens for his total disregard of proper procedures, for not letting anyone know what he was doing, and for his criminal foolishness in putting himself and a fellow officer at risk. Words like ‘rash’, ‘irresponsible’ and ‘foolhardy’ had been used, and in his heart Ben Cooper could not deny that they were justified. But Lee Sherratt was in custody.

      The DCI was still talking. ‘There was an initial interview with Sherratt last night, and the tapes are already transcribed. He will be interviewed again this morning by myself.’

      Cooper put his hand up. Tailby’s eyes swivelled towards him.

      ‘Let me guess, Cooper, you’re going to ask about Harry Dickinson.’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      Tailby shuffled some papers.

      ‘He was unavailable last night, but there’s an action allocated this morning to ask him about the bird-watcher’s sighting on Saturday night.’

      ‘We ought to press him,’ said Cooper. ‘He hasn’t been cooperating so far.’

      ‘We shouldn’t be wasting too much time on him,’ protested Hitchens. ‘He’s just an awkward old sod.’

      ‘With respect, sir, I think it was more than that. He was upset about something.’

      ‘Upset? Bloody rude, more like.’

      ‘No, there was something else.’ Cooper shook his head.

      Tailby frowned. ‘Justify it, lad. Where’s your evidence?’

      ‘I can’t really explain what it was, sir, but I could feel it. It’s … well, it’s just a feeling.’

      ‘Ah. For a moment there, Cooper, I thought you were going to say it was feminine intuition.’

      Several of the officers began to titter, and Cooper flushed.

      ‘We could check Mr Dickinson’s movements out more carefully. Just in case.’

      Tailby nodded. ‘All right, that sounds thorough. Do you want to action this yourself, Cooper?’

      ‘Of course.’

      As Tailby finished the briefing, Hitchens got up and came over to Fry.

      ‘Off to sunny Yorkshire then, Diane. Call home and pack an overnight bag for when we get the call. These students can be elusive, so it might not be until tonight.’

      Cooper waited until Hitchens had moved away.

      ‘You should be in on the interviews with Sherratt,’ he said. ‘It was your arrest.’

      ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Fry. But Cooper could see that it did. He wasn’t comfortable, either, with the idea of her being away with DI Hitchens. But it was her own business, of course. Nothing to do with him. If she wanted to take the opportunity of sleeping her way to the top, let her get on with it.

      ‘In the hut there, with Lee Sherratt …’ he said.

      ‘Yes, Ben?’ She turned to him, ready to brush aside the thanks.

      ‘That was a lucky blow. He walked right into it. But a side-handed strike would have been better.’

      ‘Oh really? You know that, do you?’

      ‘I’m a shotokan brown belt,’ he said.

      Fry gave a chilly smile. ‘Well, hey, that’s great. I’ve been looking for a dojo round here. I’m falling behind in my training. Can you suggest somewhere?’

      ‘Come along with me. I can get you in at my club. Maybe we can have a friendly bout. It’ll be a bit of practice for you.’

      ‘In case I have to pull you out of the shit again, do you mean?’

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