Worse, he’d even left cartridge cases at the scene with his prints on them. That was the disadvantage of doing your shooting in the woods at night. Once you’d dropped your cartridge cases, it took much too long to find them again, especially if you were anxious to get clear of the area.
There was even a shoe mark in the grass, preserved by the soft ground and the morning dew, with a spatter of the earl’s blood lying in the impression. The forensic evidence was piling up and Fry felt confident there was more to come yet. The case against Shaw was going to be watertight.
‘Well,’ he said, when he was pressed on his motivation, ‘it was purely a family matter.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Fry.
Shaw glared at his questioners across the interview-room table.
‘You know the way it is. Generation after generation, the Manbys spent hundreds of years exploiting the people of this area. One death makes up for a thousand sins.’
In the CID room at E Division headquarters they’d spent the day on paperwork. There were mountains of it. Reports to write, statements to take, interviews to conclude with Poppy Mellor and Jason Shaw, and with Rob Beresford and Sally Naden too. Reviews of the evidence, discussions with the Crown Prosecution Service. It could all go on for a while yet.
At the end of the day Ben Cooper had been called to Detective Superintendent Branagh’s office. She looked tired. But then, they were all tired.
‘You know we’re losing DC Murfin?’ she said.
‘Yes, ma’am, he’s told me.’
‘It was expected, of course.’
She didn’t sound as though she was too disappointed either. Within a short space of time Gavin’s existence would be wiped from the memory of E Division. But Cooper had a feeling he hadn’t heard the last of Murfin yet.
‘But it may not be your problem,’ said Branagh.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘There’s always some good news,’ she said.
At the end of the day, still feeling dazed, Cooper pulled on his jacket and felt in his pocket for his car keys.
‘Damn,’ he said.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘I forgot my car was in for a service.’
He checked his watch. It was much too late to collect it from the garage now. They would have closed over an hour ago.
‘Oh, well, it can wait until tomorrow,’ said Cooper. ‘I can walk home. It’s not far.’
‘Have you seen the weather?’
When it was dark and the lights were on in the CID room, he could see nothing outside. Even without the blinds drawn, the windows only threw back their own exhausted reflections. The weather could be doing anything and he would have no idea until he left the building.
‘Is it raining?’ he said.
‘Chucking it down, mate. And blowing a gale with it. It’s shocking out there.’
‘I’ll give you a lift,’ said Fry. ‘I pass that way.’
The offer came out of the blue. Gavin Murfin’s mouth fell open like a cudding sheep. Cooper was shocked and he hesitated before replying, searching his mind for an ulterior motive. He couldn’t think of one and realised he was hesitating too long for politeness. So he had no option but to accept her offer.
‘Thanks, Diane, that would be great,’ he said.
‘No problem.’
She picked up her car keys and they left the office together to drive through the streets of Edendale.
43
It was so difficult to know what to talk about in the car with Diane Fry. She had so little in the way of small talk. But Cooper knew he had to make conversation, because he was getting a lift, was on the receiving end of a favour. So he asked her about the outcome of her interviews with Jason Shaw.
‘For some reason Shaw became more extreme in his intentions after Sandra Blair’s death,’ said Fry, when she’d outlined the results.
‘Well, don’t you think he was in love with her?’ said Cooper.
Fry looked at him. ‘That’s what he said. I didn’t believe it.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, he’s not that sort of person.’
‘Are you kidding? Anybody is capable of love, no matter what else they do in their lives. Yes, even people who commit murder can be in love. You understand that, don’t you, Diane?’
She didn’t answer directly, but gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. ‘That still doesn’t explain his reaction,’ she said.
‘It was jealousy, I think,’ said Cooper.
‘Who of?’
‘Poppy Mellor perhaps. Oh, not in that way. But Sandra and Poppy were enjoying themselves too much. It was as simple as that. Jason didn’t see it as fun. With Sandra gone, he only had two options — to give up or take it to the extreme. And he wasn’t a man who would just give up.’
Fry looked as though she were struggling to understand the emotional complexities of ordinary human beings. She concentrated on the traffic as they headed out of the town centre and over the bridge towards Welbeck Street.
‘I dare say you’re right,’ she said in the end.
‘So in a way, you see,’ continued Cooper, ‘the earl paid the price for Sandra Blair’s death, not for his development plans at Bowden, or even for the quarry scheme. He became the target for one individual’s thwarted passion, an unfocused rage.’
He watched Fry trying to digest the interpretation. He knew it wouldn’t fit with any of her logical constructs. In fact, in Diane Fry’s world, motive could be pretty much dispensed with, once you’d collected enough evidence to prove your case. Guilt was important in the criminal justice system, not reasons. The system represented by Fry didn’t want to know why people did things. It was much too hard to understand, impossible to write down on a report form. It was too human.
Cooper wished he could tell her that one day, when he thought she would understand.
They turned into Welbeck Street and Fry drew up outside his flat.
‘That was a big help,’ he said. ‘Thanks a lot, Diane.’
Fry waited while he got out of the Audi. Cooper turned and stood on the pavement, expecting her to accelerate away. He was planning to give her a little parting wave as she disappeared from his life round the corner of the street. But she didn’t do that. And his instinct for politeness kicked in again.
‘Do you want to come in for a bit?’ he said.
‘Sure.’
He could hardly believe that he’d asked her in. Even more alarming was the fact that she’d accepted. Cooper couldn’t get to grips with what was happening to him today. The world had taken a strange turn.
Inside the flat the cat padded forward to greet Cooper, then paused suspiciously before sitting down and staring at Fry.
‘I suppose you’ll have another funeral to go to soon,’ said Fry. ‘Your landlady.’
‘Mrs Shelley, yes. It’s next Monday.’
‘What’s going to happen to this house?’ asked Fry.
‘I think the nephew will sell them. He doesn’t want to be bothered dealing with pesky tenants. He’ll do them up and get a good price for them when he puts them on the market.’
‘But as a sitting tenant you have legal rights.’
‘I know, but…’
‘It won’t be the same?’
Cooper had thought it would sound odd to her if he’d said that himself. But she’d hit on what he was thinking exactly. He’d almost forgotten Fry’s ability to read his mind so well. It had never seemed like a positive asset before. But now her insight made it easier to explain his feelings. For once he felt she might actually understand what he meant.
‘No, it won’t be the same at all. In fact, it doesn’t feel the same now. Number six is empty already. They took Mrs Shelley’s dog away. I imagine he’s gone in a sanctuary or more likely he’s been taken to the vet’s to be put down. Well, he was quite old, I suppose.’
Cooper found Gavin Murfin drifting into his mind, remembered the impression he’d been given in Superintendent Branagh’s office that Murfin was regarded as an old dog past his day, a useless mutt who lay around sleeping and eating and was no good to anyone. At least there was a sanctuary for an aged copper.