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

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ haven’t you? Got evidence?’ asked Wilford.

      ‘Not enough. Not by a long way.’

      ‘That’s a shame.’

      ‘It’s very discouraging. Sometimes you feel like giving up.’

      Harry had said nothing so far. His eyes were fixed on Cooper as he spoke, watching his lips, studying his face as if trying to see behind his words.

      ‘It wasn’t our fault about the pigs, lad.’

      ‘No, I know it wasn’t.’

      ‘Did you get in trouble?’ asked Wilford.

      Cooper shrugged. ‘I’ll be very unpopular for a bit.’

      ‘It wasn’t our fault,’ echoed Sam.

      ‘We told you about the blood and bone.’

      ‘The heap rots ’em down, as long as they’re not too big. Otherwise the knackerman charges you for taking ’em away.’

      ‘And you don’t want to be paying the knackerman when you can dispose of ’em natural, like,’ said Sam.

      ‘They weren’t big enough for porkers yet, I suppose,’ said Cooper.

      ‘No, no. Nowhere near. You couldn’t have sold ’em.’

      ‘Funny thing about pigs, though,’ said Wilford. ‘Their skin is a lot like ours.’

      ‘It certainly gave those police mates of yours a fair turn,’ said Sam, starting to smile again.

      ‘They thought they’d found a dead body or two,’ said Cooper. ‘For a while.’

      ‘Bloody hell, that doctor woman wasn’t very pleased when she got there.’

      ‘The pathologist. That was a mistake.’

      ‘I’ve never heard language like it,’ said Wilford.

      ‘Not from a doctor.’

      ‘And a woman too.’

      ‘Do you know they get sunburnt, just like us?’ asked Wilford. ‘Pigs, I mean. You can’t leave ’em out in hot sun. Those two had been inside, you see, out of the sun. That’s why their skin was so clean.’

      ‘And white.’

      ‘Aye. Middle Whites, they were. Some folk like the old breeds, but the Whites grow better.’

      Cooper closed his eyes, feeling the conversation running away from him already. Bizarrely, a memory popped into his mind of the slippery fish he used to try to catch by hand as a boy in the streams around Edendale. He knew they were there, lurking in the shady corners, and he could almost get his hands on them in the water. But it needed only a couple of wriggles and they were out of his grasp, every time. He suddenly felt utterly depressed, and wondered what on earth he had hoped to achieve by coming here tonight. He was totally in the wrong place. But he had no idea what the right place for him was just now.

      He drained his glass and stood up wearily.

      ‘Off already?’ asked Sam. ‘Company not suit you?’

      ‘I’m wasting my time,’ said Cooper, as he walked away towards the door.

      Outside, the sky was still light and the evening was warm. He stood for a moment, breathing in the motionless air and looking up at the shape of Raven’s Side, looming above the village. He remembered then that there was one place where he always felt he belonged.

      The door to the pub had been propped open to let out the heat, and he didn’t hear anybody come up behind him. But he recognized the slow voice that spoke in his ear.

      ‘If you ask the right questions, you’ll find out what you want to know.’

      ‘Oh yes? I’m not sure about that, Mr Dickinson. At the moment, it all seems pretty futile.’

      Harry looked at him with sudden understanding. ‘Fed up?’

      ‘You might say that.’

      ‘Ah. I reckon you’ve got the black dog, lad.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘That’s what we used to say to the young ‘uns when they were sulking or had a fit of temper. “The black dog’s on your back,” we’d say. That’s what’s up with you, I reckon.’

      Sulking? It was a long time since he had been accused of sulking. As if he was some temperamental adolescent.

      ‘Yes, I’ve heard of it, thanks.’

      ‘Don’t mention it, lad.’

      Now the old man had explained the expression, Cooper remembered that he had heard it before. He could hear a faint echo of his own mother’s voice chiding him for having the black dog. It was one of those mysterious expressions from childhood that you only half understood at the time. The black dog. Words with a frisson of meaning that had always worked on his imagination. Looking back, he had a feeling that the young Ben Cooper had pictured some huge, terrifying beast coming down from the moors, with red eyes and slavering jaws. The memory was confused now with the stories his Grandma Cooper had told, of the legendary Black Shuck and the Barguest – giant hounds with glowing eyes that waylaid unfortunate travellers on certain roads at night and took them straight to hell.

      ‘The black dog’s on your back’, they said. It wasn’t a very nice image. Once the picture had been planted in his mind, it had been difficult to get rid of. It had cropped up in his nightmares, waking him with snapping jaws and ferocious eyes. As a child, he would have done anything to get rid of that black dog from his back. Usually, his mother could help him do it. She could always cheer him up, and chivvy him out of a depressed mood.

      Now, though, when the tables were turned, he was helpless to remove an immense black dog from his mother’s back.

      Harry looked at him sharply, suspicious at the silence. Cooper shook himself and stared back at the old man.

      ‘Well, I’ve got to go now, Mr Dickinson. Maybe I’ll see you again.’

      ‘I don’t doubt, lad.’

      

      A few minutes later, Cooper was sitting on Raven’s Side, looking across the dusk-filled valley towards Win Low.

      He liked the names of the hills in this part of the Peak, with their resonances of the Danish invaders who had occupied Derbyshire for several decades. He had been taught at school that the Raven had been the symbol of Odin, the chief of the Viking gods. And the Danes had not been alone in investing the hills with supernatural powers.

      On the far side of the valley, the last rays of the setting sun lit the western flanks of the Witches in blood-red streaks, highlighting them in melodramatic three-dimensional relief. At any moment, they might launch themselves into the air on their broomsticks. No wonder the ancient inhabitants СКАЧАТЬ