‘I wondered why the group carried on with the walk when the weather turned bad and visibility became so poor. Wasn’t that a bit of a risk?’
Haslam shrugged. ‘Maybe. But what’s life without a bit of risk? We were all happy to carry on. Well, almost all of us.’
‘Oh?’
‘It was Elsa Roth,’ he said. ‘Elsa wanted to call it off when the fog came down. I remember her saying something about it being dangerous. We didn’t take any notice of her.’
‘Not even her husband?’
‘Particularly not Darius.’
Villiers frowned. ‘And after the accident, when the walking group split up, you went with Darius Roth’s party, didn’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why didn’t you stay with Miss Pullen?’
‘There was only one man in Darius’s group.’
‘You didn’t think it was more appropriate to stay with your girlfriend?’
‘Not in the circumstances,’ he said. ‘I knew she would be safe. Darius was with Elsa, Millie and Karina. It made sense to me at the time. A division of responsibilities.’
‘It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Mr Roth on his own?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Did he welcome you in his party?’
‘Why wouldn’t he?’
‘From what I’ve heard, you didn’t take Mr Roth’s interests seriously,’ said Villiers.
‘You mean all the stuff about the Mass Trespass?’
‘Yes.’
Haslam laughed. ‘The leaders of the trespass,’ he said. ‘They were all Communists, of course.’
As she looked at Nick Haslam, Villiers remembered the Russian Army hat he was said to have worn on the walk on Sunday.
‘Do you think so?’ she said.
‘Think so? It’s not a question of me “thinking so”. It’s a fact. They were members of the British Workers’ Sports Federation, part of the Young Communist League. By the time of the trespass, it was basically the Communist Party’s sports organisation. Darius Roth doesn’t like hearing that. But it’s not his fault. You can’t change what your ancestors were, can you?’
‘I suppose not.’
‘The working-class struggle for the right to roam versus the rights of the wealthy to have exclusive use of the moorlands for shooting grouse,’ said Haslam.
He smiled again, an attempt to persuade Villiers not to take him too seriously. It was much too late. She’d already decided he wasn’t funny at all.
‘That sounds like a quote,’ she said.
‘Darius’s favourite sentence,’ said Haslam. ‘Working class? Have you met him?’
‘Yes, I have.’
‘Well, you’ll know what I mean. Darius Roth? If you ask me, there isn’t a bigger fraud in Derbyshire.’
When he finally arrived back in his office at West Street, Ben Cooper picked up the phone to call the EMSOU base near Nottingham.
‘Can I speak to Detective Sergeant Fry, please?’ he said.
‘Hold on.’
There was a long pause, and Cooper began to wonder if he’d called at a bad time. Perhaps there was a major operation under way at EMSOU that he didn’t know about. Then the officer came back on the line.
‘I’m sorry, DS Fry isn’t available.’
‘Do you have any idea when she’ll be free?’
‘No idea.’
‘Well, could you give her a message, then? Ask her to call me back.’
The officer cleared his throat, and there was a muttering in the background. Cooper had a mental picture of him referring to someone else nearby, perhaps with the lift of an eyebrow. What should I say to him?
‘DS Fry won’t be available for the foreseeable future. Maybe someone else can help you. If you hang on, I’ll transfer you.’
‘No, it’s OK,’ said Cooper.
‘Sorry, what was your name again?’
But Cooper had put the phone down.
‘That was strange,’ he said.
‘Diane too busy to speak to you?’ said Carol Villiers, looking up.
‘She’s not there. And she won’t be for the foreseeable future. Or so I’ve just been told.’
‘Perhaps she’s on leave.’
‘I don’t think so. If she was, why wouldn’t they just say that?’
‘Strange.’
‘Exactly what I just said.’
Cooper put it out of his mind. He could manage anyway, unless there were significant developments.
But what real evidence did he have that Faith Matthew had been deliberately killed? The witness statements coming in from Irvine and Murfin’s interviews didn’t offer any substantial proof. Yet there was something in them that Cooper was unsatisfied with. Perhaps more statements from the other members of the walking group would help. And of course he could pin his hopes on the results of the post-mortem examination.
Cooper found Luke Irvine and Gavin Murfin in the CID room.
‘I’ve taken Jonathan Matthew’s statement,’ said Murfin when he saw Cooper. ‘Did you know he plays guitar?’
‘Yes, he told me. In fact, his mother had already mentioned it.’
‘He plays bass with one of those bands you’ve never heard of. We had a good chat about guitars, actually. Guitarist to guitarist, like.’
‘You’re not a guitarist, Gavin,’ said Irvine. ‘You’re just taking lessons.’
Cooper looked up in surprise.
‘You’re learning to play the guitar, Gavin? Do you fancy yourself as a rock star?’
‘I reckon it must be part of my midlife crisis.’
‘Well, at least it doesn’t involve food,’ said Cooper. ‘So how is it going?’
‘To be honest, I’m just learning chords yet,’ said Murfin. ‘And I’m having trouble with F. I call it “the F-ing F chord”.’
‘Let me have a copy of Jonathan’s statement as soon as you can.’
‘It’s already on your desk,’ said Murfin. ‘Oh, and Robert Farnley...’
‘Yes?’
Murfin looked smug as he consulted his notes.
‘Mr Farnley is kind of an old 1960s rocker. Back then, he was a member of a band called the Confederates, based in Gorton. They started off as an instrumental group under the name of the Zodiacs, playing covers of Shadows hits, then moved on to Beatles and Gerry and the Pacemakers stuff. Farnley took over as manager and got them a record deal.’
‘I’ve never heard of them.’
‘Well, the band did pretty well in the mid-1960s. Built up quite a following, played at the Belle Vue Top Ten Club, the Catacombs in Oldham and Beat City in Manchester. In their publicity photos, they all wore waistcoats and ties, and they had Beatles haircuts. But they never quite hit the big time and they went their separate ways.’
‘So what happened to Farnley?’
‘He moved to Canada years ago, and now he lives mostly in Port Hope, Ontario. He had a career in media and advertising, including a spell working for the Government of Ontario, then started his own consultancy firm. But he still has a lot of family in Manchester, and he’s a long-standing Man City fan.’ Murfin shrugged. ‘I suppose someone has to be. And that’s why he’s back in Manchester for a while.’
‘You’ve done well, Gavin.’
Murfin smirked. ‘Old skills come in useful now and then.’
‘We found it all online,’ put in Irvine. ‘I’ve shown Gavin how to use the internet.’
Cooper looked at Murfin, who shuffled his feet uneasily.
‘I’ll go and talk to him tomorrow, should I?’ said Murfin.
14
On her way home from Ripley, Diane Fry called again at the service station on Clifton Lane. She didn’t really need anything, but it was always a good idea to keep her car topped up with fuel, just in case.
Besides, tonight she felt an overwhelming need for some routine activity, a bit of real-world contact with ordinary people who had no idea who she was. Paying for her petrol at the kiosk wasn’t much, but the young woman who worked there did at least smile when she gave her pump number. Fry felt as though no one had smiled at her for months. It was her own fault, she supposed. No one could accuse her of being sociable and outgoing. She hardly went out of her way to make friends.