‘It’s a shame,’ said Farnley. ‘I liked Jonathan. But the truth is, bass players are always a bit unreliable. Temperamental. It’s a complication for us, though. Jonno was putting up the money for promotion and to make a proper demo. That’s why we let him join the band in the first place. He’s not a brilliant bass player, to be honest. I could have got someone better.’
‘But he wasn’t going to be able to provide the money, was he?’
‘Oh yes, he did. Just this week. He came through on his promise.’
‘Really? Did he tell you where he got it from?’
‘No. And I didn’t ask him.’ Farnley laughed. ‘Wait — you’re the cops. He hasn’t robbed a bank or something, has he?’
‘Well, it wasn’t Jonathan’s money anyway,’ said Cooper. ‘And we believe he may have killed his benefactor.’
‘Oh well. He wouldn’t be the first person to think there’s something more important than money.’ Then Farnley stopped laughing. ‘You’re not kidding with me, are you?’
‘Hardly, Mr Farnley. This is a murder inquiry.’
‘Darn. That puts a different light on things.’
‘Oh? Do you want to change your story, sir?’
Farnley shifted uneasily on his stool.
‘All right. Jonathan wasn’t here at all last night,’ he said. ‘He asked me to say he was, if anyone asked. But I wasn’t expecting it to be you asking. I never thought... Well, Jonno said his mother might call, and he’d told her he was here rehearsing.’
‘His mother?’
‘Mrs Matthew is a bit of a dragon, apparently. She doesn’t approve of him being in a band. She rang here once before trying to get hold of him, so I didn’t think too much of it when he asked me to do him a favour.’
‘If he wasn’t here, then where was he?’ said Cooper. ‘Did he tell you?’
‘Again I didn’t ask.’ Farnley smiled and almost winked. ‘I thought it was probably a private matter. Something he didn’t want his old mother to find out about, if you understand me.’
Cooper heaved another sigh. Keeping secrets became so natural to people that it made his job very difficult sometimes. But there were secrets and secrets. This was on a different level to anything Robert Farnley might have been imagining.
‘This, sir,’ he said, ‘is definitely something Jonathan Matthew wouldn’t want his mother to find out about.’
33
Fog returned to the Peak District that evening. As dusk began to fall, it rolled down from the hills and filled the valleys, swallowing villages and turning the roads into treacherous grey funnels where headlights bounced back against a dense wall of murk.
But Ben Cooper and his team were in Manchester, conducting a search of Jonathan Matthew’s flat in Whalley Range. He and Luke Irvine were examining Jonathan’s computer and CD collection.
‘He’s really into horror films,’ said Cooper. ‘Look at all these DVDs: Friday the 13th, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Dawn of the Dead.’
‘And some more recent stuff. Jigsaw. That’s very nasty.’
‘How nasty?’
‘Very. Torture, dismemberment, that sort of thing.’
‘Mmm.’
‘Do you ever think there’s a connection between people watching these things and going on to commit violent crime?’ said Irvine.
‘I think the latest theories are against it.’
‘They do tend to stay in the mind, though. Some of the images...’
Cooper wasn’t convinced by Irvine’s generalisation. But then, he wasn’t au fait with the horror-film genre the way Luke was. The titles Irvine had mentioned were familiar, of course. He might have watched many of them himself. But they’d blurred in his mind, become one long sequence of crazed killers and screaming victims, accompanied by dramatic music. He couldn’t recall the plot of any of them — if they had a plot.
Cooper looked at Irvine’s expression and realised he was afraid of being made fun of. Well, other members of the team would have scoffed. Gavin Murfin certainly. Becky Hurst too, if she was having a bad day.
‘So what are you suggesting, Luke?’ he said. ‘Do you think Jonathan Matthew had some obsession with graphic violence and finally acted it out in real life?’
Irvine looked relieved. ‘Well, it’s possible, isn’t it?’
‘Everything’s possible when it comes to the reasons people commit murder.’
Then Irvine gave a low whistle.
‘There’s an envelope here with a cheque in it,’ he said. ‘A pretty large cheque too. More than my monthly salary, anyway.’
‘Jonathan doesn’t have any money,’ said Cooper. ‘So who was he sending a cheque to?’
‘No, he was receiving the money, not sending it. And take a look who it came from.’
Irvine passed him the cheque. Cooper took it carefully between his gloved fingers. The flamboyant signature might have been enough to give him a clue. But the sender’s name was printed clearly on the bottom of the cheque.
‘Darius A. Roth,’ said Cooper. ‘So that was where Jonathan was getting the money from for his band.’
They met up with Carol Villiers and Gavin Murfin in the hallway of the flat.
‘What are we going to do next, Ben?’ asked Villiers.
‘We’ll wait. Jonathan will come back when he thinks it’s gone quiet.’
‘Why are you so sure?’
‘Look, he’s left his guitar here. But we won’t all wait here. We’ll leave Gavin on surveillance.’
‘You think I’ll look inconspicuous around here,’ said Murfin. ‘As though I might be a devotee of Krishna Consciousness.’
‘No,’ said Cooper, ‘because you’ll recognise Jonathan Matthew when you see him.’
It was an hour later when Gavin Murfin phoned. Ben Cooper was already on his way to Hayfield with Carol Villiers when he took the call.
‘An old Subaru Impreza has arrived,’ said Murfin. ‘Colour, er... unidentifiable.’
‘That’s him. Don’t lose him, Gavin.’
Murfin kept them updated as Jonathan Matthew’s car headed across South Manchester to reach the A6.
‘He’s going out of town,’ said Murfin. ‘I’ve still got him in sight.’
‘Where do you think he’s going?’ Villiers asked Cooper.
‘If he’s southbound on the A6, I’ll bet he’s going to his parents’ house in Stockport.’
‘I thought Jonathan didn’t get on with his parents. He didn’t even want to speak to his mother the day after his sister was killed.’
‘True,’ said Cooper. ‘But where else is he going to go when he knows he’s in trouble? He must be aware that we’re looking for him, but he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t escape, so he’ll head for a sanctuary.’
‘He’ll go home to Mum.’
‘Exactly.’
Murfin reported that the Subaru had left the A6 at the turning for Stockport Crematorium.
‘There he goes,’ said Cooper. ‘His parents live in Heaviley, Gavin. He’ll be home in a few minutes.’
‘Oh, hold on,’ said Murfin. He swore under his breath. ‘Damn, I think he’s spotted me. He must have seen me following him from Whalley Range. It was too obvious when I turned off to the crematorium right behind him.’
‘What’s he doing?’ demanded Cooper.
‘He’s turning round. Heading straight back onto the A6 again.’
‘Still southbound?’
‘Yes. Sorry, Ben.’
‘Don’t worry. Let me know straight away if he turns off again.’
Cooper parked his Toyota in a layby on the A6 and watched for Jonathan Matthew’s Subaru to come by. Then he fell in behind Murfin’s green Skoda a couple of vehicles back. When they hit Hazel Grove, he rang Murfin.
‘You can drop out now, Gavin.’
‘Will do.’