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

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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all the other things he hardly dared to think about.

      ‘Also, no murder weapon has yet been identified,’ said Tailby. ‘The nature of the injuries suggests a hard, solid object. Scientific Support are still at the scene and will continue the search, and I remain hopeful. Two sets of prints have been taken from the trainer, but they match only with the victim’s own prints and those of Mr Dickinson, who was printed for comparisons. However, as you will see, we do have a very promising piece of forensic evidence. I refer to the suspected bite mark on the victim’s thigh. The services of a forensic odontologist have been obtained, with the intention of obtaining a cast of the bite which can be matched to the teeth of a perpetrator.’

      Around the room, officers could be seen whispering to each other as they asked what an odontologist was.

      ‘Obviously,’ said the DCI, ‘a priority remains Lee Sherratt. Sadly, we’ve drawn a blank on his whereabouts so far. His mother states she doesn’t know where he is and hasn’t seen him since Sunday afternoon. He is, she says, “a bit prone to wandering off”. Whatever that means. We would very much like to interview Lee Sherratt in connection with the killing of Laura Vernon. All officers are being issued with his photograph. Keep your eyes open.’

      Ben Cooper jerked to attention. His mind had been drifting away again. It was almost as though DCI Tailby’s last words had been addressed directly to him. Yes, he needed to keep his eyes open. If he didn’t, the dark thing that lurked and whined might jump out at him before he could see it.

      

      Charlotte Vernon lay on the sofa in the sitting room at the Mount. She was wearing nothing but a black satin print wrap, but her hair was washed and brushed and she had made up her face and painted her toenails. Though Graham would normally enjoy the sight of his wife’s body, today he felt waves of growing irritation that she had not yet taken the trouble to get dressed. Somehow, her nakedness seemed emblematic of the stripping away of an important veneer from their lives, a lowering of standards that he feared could symbolize the gradual disintegration of the family.

      ‘He can’t do this,’ said Graham. ‘We can’t let him.’

      ‘And how do you intend to stop him?’ asked Charlotte. ‘He hasn’t felt the need to listen to you for years.’

      ‘I thought … You could speak to him, couldn’t you, Charlie?’

      ‘He might listen to me,’ she agreed.

      ‘Well then. Catch him before he goes out.’

      ‘I didn’t say I would do it.’

      ‘Why on earth not?’

      Charlotte considered, reaching for the glass that never seemed to be far away these days.

      ‘It would help him to get it off his chest.’

      ‘It might help him, but it wouldn’t do me any good!’

      ‘Or the business?’

      ‘Well, obviously. I can’t afford things like this, this sort of damage to my reputation. You know, Charlie, it’s critical.’

      ‘And what about me?’

      ‘Sorry?’

      ‘Would it be good for me? That’s what I’m wondering. Would it change you, Graham? Would it change things between us? To get it all out into the open, I wonder?’

      ‘Charlie – do you want things to change?’

      ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘For God’s sake, what do you want? I turned a blind eye to what you were doing, didn’t I?’

      ‘A blind eye? Is that what you call it?’

      ‘Well? Didn’t I?’

      ‘Yes, I suppose you did. And you thought that was what I wanted, did you? Really?’

      Graham sighed with exasperation. ‘I never will understand you.’

      Charlotte was back on the cigarettes and Bacardi with a vengeance, having come out of the artificially calm state induced by the doctor’s sedatives. Everywhere in the house there were ashtrays filled with butts, which were only emptied three times a week when Sheila Kelk came to clean. Graham hoped that Mrs Kelk hadn’t been frightened off by Daniel. But then, on second thoughts, she was far too nosey to stay away just now.

      He looked at his wife’s hair and glimpsed the darkness at the roots. She looked tired, despite the amount of sleeping she had done under sedation. When she looked at him now, it was with open hostility and distrust. The death of their daughter had come between them like a wedge.

      ‘Has anybody been here while I was out of the way?’ she asked.

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Has anyone been to the house?’

      ‘Policemen. You know they want to search the garden? A fingertip search, they call it. God knows what they expect to find there.’

      ‘Apart from those policemen. Apart from Daniel. Has anybody been that I didn’t see?’

      ‘Mrs Kelk, of course.’

      ‘Not Frances Wingate.’

      ‘No, Charlie.’

      ‘Not Edward Randle.’

      ‘No. I told them all not to come. All our friends. It’s what you said you wanted. I asked them to stay away until you felt like seeing people.’

      ‘So Frances hasn’t been.’

      ‘I’ve told you.’

      ‘And no one else.’

      ‘No.’

      Charlotte lit another cigarette, pouting her lips to suck on it and narrowing her eyes.

      ‘I don’t know why I ever trusted you,’ she said.

      ‘Why do we have to do this now, Charlie?’

      ‘While I’ve been lying there,’ she said, ‘I’ve been thinking. You’re not completely unconscious, you know, when you’re sedated. Your mind keeps working. And without any distractions, you seem to see things more clearly. All the memories came back to me. All the memories of Laura.’

      She walked to the cabinet, and her groping fingers found the empty frame again among the photographs.

      ‘When will they let us have the photo of her back?’

      ‘I’ll ask,’ said Graham.

      ‘I need to get back whatever I can of her.’

      ‘I understand.’

      Charlotte turned towards him, tears glittering in her eyes, anger twisting her mouth into an ugly shape.

      ‘I blame you, you know, Graham. Do you realize that? When I think about … everything. All this. I’ve lost my little girl, and now they’re taking away my memories of her. How could you let it happen?’

      Graham moved to put his arms round her when he saw the tears, but she pushed him away roughly.

      ‘Keep away from me. How can you think about it at a time like this? You’re an animal.’

      ‘I wasn’t, Charlie. I wasn’t.’

      ‘Laura told me everything,’ she insisted desperately. ‘She didn’t keep secrets from me.’

      The phone was ringing. Graham moved to answer, then changed his mind and left it. The answering machine switched in. It would be another client, anxiously wondering what was happening. When would Graham be back in operation? When could they expect him to be at their beck and call again? He didn’t resent them. Their businesses had to go on, even if Vernon’s didn’t. Graham thought for a moment of passing everything on to Andrew Milner, letting him take all the responsibility permanently. But he dismissed the thought as soon


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