Cooper and Fry Crime Fiction Series Books 1-3: Black Dog, Dancing With the Virgins, Blood on the Tongue. Stephen Booth
‘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?’
Cooper grinned. ‘It’s always worth learning a bit more, getting your techniques right. Will you come along? When you get back from Yorkshire?’
She stared at him – an appraising stare, as if she were weighing up an opponent, measuring his capabilities, judging how much of a threat to her he could be.
‘Do you know, I’d really love to do that, Ben. And I’ll keep you to that bout, don’t you worry.’
Lee Sherratt sat sullenly in an interview room, staring at the two cassette recorders and twin video cameras. His skin was faintly swarthy, as if he had a fading suntan or hadn’t washed for a long time. His hair was black, and the stubble on his cheeks made his complexion look even darker. His eyes wandered around the room, looking at anything rather than the detectives facing him. He was a well-built youth, but at the moment his muscular shoulders were held high, betraying his tension.
Tailby knew it wasn’t Sherratt’s first experience of being interviewed in a police station. There were minor offences on his record – juvenile car crime, but no violence, not even a drunk-and-disorderly. Yet Graham Vernon had called him a violent yob. Of course, there was the gun.
DI Hitchens started the tapes and checked the cameras were running. ‘Interview commenced nine-fifteen a.m., Wednesday twenty-fifth August. Present are Detective Inspector Hitchens …’
‘Detective Chief Inspector Tailby …’
Hitchens nodded at the two men across the table.
‘Lee Sherratt.’
‘And John Nunn.’
Somehow the duty solicitor looked more uncomfortable than Sherratt did. Probably he was not used to being involved in a murder enquiry. But Lee Sherratt had no solicitor of his own, and right now he had the sense to know he needed one.
Hitchens was leading, after consultation with Tailby. He had a transcript in front of him of the initial interview conducted the previous night, without the benefit of a solicitor.
‘Lee, a few hours ago you told us that you had no intimate relationship with Laura Vernon.’
Sherratt nodded, staring at the table.
‘For the tape, please.’
‘That’s right.’
‘If