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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and the weight of the double barrels swung smoothly as he turned his body to test their balance. With that effortless movement came an eagerness to see the target in his sights, a desire for the kick and cough of the cartridge. He was ready.

      ‘Pull!’

      The trap snapped and a clay flashed across his line of vision. As if of their own accord, the barrels swung up and to the right to follow its trajectory, and his finger squeezed. The clay shattered into fragments that curved towards the ground.

      ‘Pull!’

      The second clay flickered overhead. Cooper carefully increased the pressure on the trigger, timing the extra squeeze as the target’s line steadied and the clay shattered like the first.

      ‘What do you think of it, Ben?’

      ‘Nice,’ he said, lowering the shotgun and breaking it open. He laid the gun across the bonnet of the Land Rover, and his brother walked across from the trap gun they used for practising. Matt was six years older than Ben, with the barrel chest and well-muscled shoulders and torso of a working farmer. He had the same fine light-brown hair and chose to hide his receding hairline under a green tractor driver’s cap with a long peak like a baseball cap and the words ‘John Deere’ on the front.

      ‘Those were two good shots, Ben. Who were you picturing when you hit the clays?’

      ‘What?’

      ‘From the expression on your face, you had someone you really hate in your sights. Did it help to let it out?’

      ‘Yes, a bit.’

      Matt studied his younger brother. ‘It’s really getting you down, isn’t it? We don’t often see you like this. We will get Mum sorted out, you know. Wait till you see her this afternoon – I bet she’ll be more like her old self, and you’ll feel a whole lot better about it.’

      ‘Maybe, Matt. But it isn’t only that.’

      ‘Oh. Woman trouble, by any chance? Not Helen Milner, is it?’

      Cooper stared at his brother in amazement. ‘What makes you say that?’

      ‘It’s obvious you must have bumped into her on this Vernon case. I put two and two together when I read about it in the paper. Her dad works for Graham Vernon, doesn’t he? And the old man, Harry Dickinson – that would be her grandfather, right? If you’ve been hanging around there, I guessed you must have renewed old acquaintances.’

      Matt grinned as his brother looked at him, lost for words. ‘What do you reckon, then? Should I have been a detective?’

      ‘I don’t know how you worked all that out.’

      ‘Mmm. Helen Milner, eh? I always thought she had a bit of a thing about you, little brother, a few years back.’

      ‘All water under the bridge. She’s different now. You should see her.’

      ‘Oh, but I have seen her. She’s a teacher at Amy and Josie’s school now. We talked to her at a parents’ evening not so long ago. I hate to give away my secrets, but that’s how I know about her dad and all that. We talked for quite a long while, actually. Some of it was about old times, some about the Vernons too.’

      ‘Well then. You know what she looks like. She’s probably got half a dozen blokes she’s sleeping with. Why should she bother with me?’

      ‘Do I detect a hint of bitterness? Is it a case of a heifer in heat and too many bulls to choose from?’

      ‘People aren’t like cattle, Matt.’

      ‘It’d be better if they were sometimes. Come to think of it, it’s a pity you can’t put raddle on people like you do on rams, then you’d know straightaway who was tupping who.’

      Matt looked at his brother expectantly, raising his eyebrows, but saw he hadn’t even raised a smile.

      ‘But there’s more still, isn’t there? Problems at work, is it?’

      ‘Yeah, you’re right. I’ve made a couple of bad cock-ups in the last few days.’

      ‘They’ll understand you’re under a lot of stress, though, won’t they?’

      Cooper fished the keys of the Toyota out of his pocket and looked at his watch. It was past the time he should have been setting off for Edendale to start his shift. But the chance to try Matt’s new shotgun had been too much of a temptation.

      ‘You’ve told your bosses about Mum, haven’t you?’

      ‘No, I didn’t think they needed to know.’

      ‘But you have got time off this morning to go to the hospital?’

      ‘I just told them I had a doctor’s appointment.’

      ‘Bloody hell. They probably think you’re going to see a psychiatrist or something, the way you’ve been these last few days.’

      ‘I’d rather keep the police force out of Mum’s life, that’s all.’

      ‘I see. Things are a bit bad, then.’

      Cooper sighed. ‘Let’s put it this way – I’d much rather stay here shooting rabbits with you, Matt, than go into the office this morning.’

      Matt walked back with his brother to his car, parked in the crewyard. ‘I take it the Vernon case isn’t sorted out yet, then?’

      ‘It feels as though it’s running into the ground, Matt. We always dash round like mad at the beginning, of course. We collect masses of information, do dozens of witness interviews, house-to-house surveys and TIE enquiries, getting background detail. God, there’s so much in the computer after the first few days. Usually you get some clear lines of enquiry opening up that you can follow. But sometimes every one seems to be a blind alley and you get nowhere. Once a murder enquiry stalls, you can be looking at months and months before you get a result. If ever.’

      ‘And this is one of those, is it, Ben?’

      Cooper paused with his hand on the car door. ‘I don’t know, Matt. Maybe it’s just me. But don’t you ever get the feeling that you’ve been banging your head against a brick wall and didn’t realize it?’

      ‘It’s a tragedy about the young girl. There’s a bloke somewhere who shouldn’t be running round loose.’

      ‘That’s what keeps us going, I suppose.’

      He got into the driver’s seat and lowered the windows. The interior of the car was already warm, though the morning had hardly begun.

      Matt rested a brawny forearm on the door. ‘Still, the Vernons are no example to anybody, are they?’

      ‘They’re not my idea of good company.’

      ‘More than that,’ said Matt. ‘They create trouble for themselves, with what they get up to. Those orgies and things up there. I’m all for a bit of fun, but that’s just sick.’

      Cooper looked at his brother, frowning, wondering what on earth he was talking about.

      ‘Oh, I see. Well, if you don’t believe me,’ said Matt, ‘you just ask Helen Milner.’

      

      By the time Cooper reached the outskirts of Edendale, he knew he was going to be late for the second time in a week. Another black mark. But he found he didn’t really care. There was a dull pain throbbing at the front of his head, just behind his eyes, like the warning of an approaching thunderstorm.

      At eight o’clock in the morning it seemed as though every few yards along the road there was someone clutching a dog lead. Their pets were nose down in every clump of grass, stopping to examine every lamppost and tree. It would be a rash murderer who tried to hide a body in this neighbourhood. The search parties were out permanently.

      The first person he saw on the second floor of Divisional HQ was Diane Fry. She was heading for


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