‘This is very inconvenient, Inspector,’ she said. ‘I’ve had to leave a class. I hope it’s as important as you suggested in your call.’
‘It could be.’
‘So what is it you want?’
‘To see your husband’s wood-carving tools.’
Her face creased in bafflement. ‘The tools?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you’ve already seen them. I don’t know what else I can tell you about them.’
‘Perhaps I should call your husband to come out,’ said Cooper. ‘Would you prefer that?’
‘No, don’t do that. Come inside.’
This time Cooper knew where Adrian Swann’s workshop was. The carved owl seemed to watch him as he entered and went to the cabinet where the tools were kept. Frances followed him as he unfurled the canvas roll.
‘Is there anything missing?’ asked Cooper. ‘Can you tell?’
Frances peered at the tool set. She seemed reluctant to get too close to it, as if she wasn’t allowed to touch it. He could imagine that Adrian Swann might be very possessive about his tools. They gleamed as if they were polished and oiled regularly and a mislaid tool could be a disaster.
‘Yes, you’re right.’ Frances pointed. ‘There should be another knife. One with a straight blade. The curved-bladed knife is there, but not the straight blade.’
‘How big is the missing knife? Seven inches?’
‘About that, including the handle. The blade itself isn’t very long. Adrian uses the knives for the fine detail on the birds, you know. I don’t understand why it isn’t there, though. He’s very particular about his tools. He’ll be very upset if it’s missing.’
Cooper drew out the knife with the curved blade and turned over the handle.
‘Mora,’ he said.
‘I told you,’ said Frances. ‘A Swedish make.’
‘Who has access to these tools?’
‘No one but Adrian or me. The only other person he would let in to handle his tools is my father.’
‘Mr Slaney?’
‘Adrian learned woodworking from him, years ago before we even married. Adrian has gone on to be much better. Dad was never really an artist. He preferred something primitive. He was never happier than when he was chopping wood. When he and Mum lived in the house at Rowsley, he kept their wood burners stocked with logs.’
‘What happened to your mother?’ asked Cooper.
‘She died. She was killed in a car crash eight years ago, about two years after Annette went missing. It broke my father up, as you can imagine.’
‘So she wasn’t around to support his sighting of Annette in Buxton?’
‘No. That was my father’s personal conviction.’
Cooper put down the tool.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Swann,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid we’ll need your husband to come in some time anyway.’
When he returned to Edendale, Cooper had Evan Slaney brought back into the interview room. He showed Slaney a photograph of the knife in its evidence bag.
‘What about this, sir? Do you recognise it?’
‘Well, yes. I know what that is.’
‘Do you own a knife like this yourself?’ asked Cooper.
‘No. But my son-in-law uses them. I mean Adrian Swann. It’s a wood-carving knife.’
‘Do you know how it got into your house?’
‘In my house? No. Adrian has been there a few times, of course, but he would never have brought his tools. He keeps them in his workshop at Over Haddon. He’s very particular about who handles them.’
He met Cooper’s eye. In fact, his eye contact throughout the interview had been noticeable. Cooper was rapidly coming to the conclusion that this man was telling the truth now, in a way that he hadn’t done before.
‘Mr Slaney, did you have a surprise visitor recently?’ he asked.
Slaney stared at him. ‘Why, yes I did. Have you spoken to her? Did she tell you she’d been here?’
‘Who are you talking about, Mr Slaney?’
‘My granddaughter, of course.’
‘Lacey?’
‘Yes, Lacey Bower. She’s grown into a fine young woman. I’m pleased that she hasn’t forgotten her grandfather, but I was surprised. I hadn’t heard anything from her for a long time, not even a birthday or Christmas card. She has her own life to live, of course. I understand that. So it was quite a surprise when she turned up on my doorstep.’
‘Did she give any particular reason for her visit?’
‘Does she need one? But, no. We only exchanged small talk, very inconsequential chat. I asked her how her college course was going, but I didn’t really understand the details. I know Lacey is struggling financially as a student, but aren’t we all?’
‘Did you think she’d come to ask you for money?’ asked Cooper.
‘Well, she has done in the past. When Lacey first went to live in Sheffield, she asked me if I could help her with the deposit on a flat. I had to refuse, I’m afraid. Times are hard for everyone.’
‘But she didn’t ask on this latest visit?’
‘No, not at all. Lacey seemed a bit restless, to be honest. She didn’t want to stay very long. She probably had better things to do than spend time with her old granddad in his gloomy cottage.’
‘Did she stay long enough for you to make her a cup of tea?’
‘Coffee,’ said Slaney. ‘She asked for coffee. I also happened to have some of her favourite cake in. She likes Genoa.’
‘I see.’
Cooper recalled a discrepancy he’d noted in Lacey Bower’s statements. He hadn’t thought it was important at the time. On Wednesday, Lacey told him that she’d only ever mentioned her memory of visiting the cave to her grandfather. In fact, she’d specifically claimed never to have told her Aunt Frances when Cooper had asked her about it.
But yesterday, in Lathkill Dale, Lacey had let slip a different version of events. I was sure I could remember it, but when I asked Aunt Frances about it, she told me it wasn’t possible. That was what she’d said. And they couldn’t both be true, could they? So which should he believe?
Evan Slaney was staring at him across the table.
‘I don’t understand how this could be relevant, Inspector.’
‘But I think I do,’ said Cooper.
He stood up from the table.
‘Are you going to charge me?’ asked Slaney.
‘No, sir. I have a few more inquiries to make, then I expect we’ll be able to release you.’
‘Well, thank God.’
Cooper left the interview room and walked slowly back to his office. He needed to think carefully about what had just entered his mind. Could it be true? Someone had been leading him up the garden path. And it didn’t quite lead to the garden he expected.
He sat for a long time with a coffee going cold on his desk and letting his calls go to voicemail. Cooper was recalling his conversation with the neighbour in Aldern Way. The woman with the Yorkshire terrier called Henry. He’d forgotten her name now. But when he asked her about Lacey, hadn’t she said something important. She was here on Sunday, of course. But Naomi Heath claimed not to have seen Lacey for weeks, and the girl had said the same. Almost exactly the same, in fact.
And there was Frances Swann, who’d lost contact with Lacey and didn’t even know her address or phone number. Yet Lacey had let slip that she’d seen the carved owl sitting in Adrian Swann’s workshop, ready for the show this weekend. How had she seen that, unless she’d been to the Swanns’ house in Over Haddon recently?
Finally, Cooper thought about the knife, the nine-inch wood carving drawknife that was missing from Adrian’s desk. Frances Swann had told him the only other person who would have access to the tools was Evan Slaney. Why had she volunteered that information? Had she calculated that Slaney would be so angry about the knowledge that he’d been manipulated by Reece Bower that he would blindly draw suspicion on himself?