‘What is he like?’
‘He’s a miserable bugger, the real life and soul of the funeral, if you know what I mean. I had to visit him a lot at one time. When he was there, a morgue was definitely a morgue, and not a place for chat. But he liked cops, had a bit of respect for the job, if you know what I mean.’
‘Not like Dr van Doon?’ said Cooper.
‘Well, aye.’
‘So where is he now?’
‘Felix Webber went independent, set up his own consultancy practice in Derby. He wrote a couple of books, did some media interviews, and got quite a name for himself. Then he became chair of one of the committees at the Royal College of Pathology.’
‘A high flier, then.’
‘I think he must be doing well. He’s gone right upmarket. Lives inside a Sunday supplement — white quartz worktops and a table made of fir planks.’
‘So you’ve kept in touch?’
‘Well, I’ve been to his house,’ said Murfin cautiously.
‘Through your job as a private investigator?’
‘I used to get information from Webber. I could phone him and talk him into giving me a few nuggets, a bit of independent advice, but I can’t get through to him now.’
‘Why not?’
‘He’s far too important these days. He doesn’t even chew his own food, let alone answer his own phone.’
Cooper laughed. ‘You’re with me today, by the way.’
‘Just like old times,’ said Murfin.
‘First I want you in Chesterfield. You need to go to Reece Bower’s place of work, a steel fabrications company. Naomi Heath suggested one of his colleagues had made a comment to Reece that upset him and may have made him leave. If that’s so, I want to know who it was and what they said to him.’
‘Got it, boss.’
‘I don’t think it’s a huge outfit. It shouldn’t take you long to narrow it down to a specific individual.’
‘No problem.’
‘And there’s one other person I’d like you to track down and talk to,’ said Cooper.
‘Who’s that?’
Cooper tapped the statement from Annette Bower’s sister.
‘This woman, Madeleine Betts. She works at Chesterfield Royal Hospital.’
‘And after that?’
‘You can come and join me in Bakewell. But phone me first to find out where I’ll be.’
16
In Bakewell town centre Ben Cooper could find only one CCTV camera, and that pointed at the entrance to a pub on Bridge Street, pretty useless for present purposes. Even if it had existed ten years ago, there was no way of tracking the movements of the Bowers’ vehicle. There weren’t even any speed cameras to catch sight of his blue Vauxhall, except for some on the A6 towards Buxton.
This was Cooper’s second visit to Bakewell in two days. But at least he’d managed to avoid market day, which was Monday.
There had been no answer to his calls to the number kept on file for Evan Slaney. Perhaps he was away, or just at work. Cooper didn’t have a business address for Slaney, so he had no option but to head first to Reece Bower’s house in Aldern Way.
When Naomi Heath appeared at the door of the house in Aldern Way, her make-up couldn’t disguise the fact that she hadn’t been sleeping well. Her eyes were sunken and smudged with dark shadows.
‘Oh, Detective Inspector Cooper,’ she said. ‘On your own this time?’
‘I do have a few more questions,’ said Cooper.
‘Come in, then. What other information can I give you?’
‘I was hoping you could tell me how Mr Bower left,’ said Cooper. ‘It says in the initial reports that his car is still here.’
‘Yes, it’s in the garage.’
‘Can I have a look at it?’
‘I’ll get you the keys. They’re on the hook by the door.’
‘Thank you.’
Reece Bower’s present car was a silver BMW. Not a new model, but about three years old. No doubt he’d got rid of the blue Vauxhall long ago. Cooper opened the boot and moved aside a bag of golf clubs to examine a blue Berghaus waterproof and a pair of Hi-Tec walking boots. The waterproof was dry, and the boots were so clean that they couldn’t have been used recently. He found nothing else — not even a spare wheel. Of course, BMWs had run-flat tyres.
Inside the car, he checked the glove compartment, all the storage areas, and even under the seats. There was nothing of interest. Nothing to see at all, except a packet of tissues and some change for parking. Reece Bower was either a very tidy man, or the car had been cleared out deliberately. It hadn’t been valeted though. That was something at least. If necessary, he could get a forensic examination carried out.
The garage itself contained all the usual stuff. Cooper knew many people with garages who used them for anything except parking their car in. They were more secure than a garden shed for storing your lawnmower and power tools, warmer and drier for stacking cardboard boxes, handier for plugging in a chest freezer. All of those things were here, but the garage was big enough to take the car as well. It probably took a bit of manoeuvring down that drive, but it did just about fit.
‘This is Mr Bower’s car,’ said Cooper, ‘so do you have a car of your own, Mrs Heath?’
‘Yes, a Mini. It’s on the other drive.’
‘Does Mr Bower drive that sometimes?’
‘Not unless he really has to. He doesn’t like it. He says it’s too small to be a proper car. But it suits me.’
‘So if he didn’t take his car, how did he leave?’
‘He set off walking down the hill towards Station Road.’
‘Did you hear him call for a taxi?’
‘No.’
‘Well, he wouldn’t have got very far on foot. Could he have been meeting someone?’
‘Who would that be?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Cooper. ‘I was hoping you might know.’
‘I haven’t any idea.’
Cooper found himself gazing out of the back window at the flourishing garden. He had to keep reminding himself that this was the same house that Annette Bower had disappeared from ten years ago. He had no sense of a sinister history to this property, the way he did in some houses. But then, the search had found nothing. If Annette was anywhere, she wasn’t here at the house in Aldern Way.
‘You mentioned yesterday that you thought Mr Bower had been getting hassle from some the employees where he works and that something one of them said may have upset him enough to make him want to get away for a while.’
‘Yes, I did say that.’
‘I think you may know what people were saying to him.’
‘Well, they make jokes about him,’ she said. ‘Usually behind his back, but some of them to his face. They don’t seem to have any respect for him. Being in middle management is an unenviable position, I suppose. You have the responsibility, but without the power or the authority. Sometimes it just gets a bit too much for Reece.’
‘What sort of jokes do they make?’ asked Cooper.
She hesitated. ‘I’d rather not say.’
Cooper studied her carefully. ‘Are they to do with the time he was charged with the murder of his wife?’
Naomi lowered her eyes. ‘Yes, I believe so. I can’t tell you exactly what they say — Reece doesn’t go into the details. All I know is that they make him angry. I think, when they see Reece getting annoyed, it just makes them worse. They like to wind him up more if they get a reaction. It’s like kids in the playground, isn’t it? They pick on the sensitive child.’
‘So you’d say Mr Bower is sensitive?’
‘On that subject, yes. Wouldn’t you be? It was a very traumatic experience for him.’ Then she looked at Cooper more closely and seemed to recall who he was. ‘But you’re a police officer. Perhaps you don’t see it like that. Your people did their best to get him convicted.’