‘The Barrons,’ said Gamble. ‘You’ll want to know everything I can tell you about the Barrons.’
‘Well, you and…’
He indicated Mrs Gamble, who sat in a corner of their little sitting room; so far she had hardly said a word. But her husband didn’t even notice the interruption.
‘The Barrons. They’re not really local people,’ he said. ‘I don’t just mean that they aren’t from this area – hardly anyone in Riddings is. But they don’t support local businesses either. They bring everything in from outside. I don’t think that’s right, do you? We should support the place we live in. But they do their weekly shop at the big Waitrose store in Sheffield, rather than using the Co-op in Bakewell or somewhere more local. Sometimes she goes shopping at nearly nine o’clock at night even.’
Cooper remembered the bottle of wine Zoe Barron had been carrying when she was attacked. He wasn’t sure she would have bought that at Waitrose.
‘She did,’ he said. ‘She won’t be doing it any more.’
‘Oh, yes. Sorry and all that.’
Mrs Gamble sat listening quietly to her husband. She was a worn-looking woman with a mouth that turned down at the corners, taking all the warmth out of her smile and replacing it with a shadow of bitterness. She looked at Cooper with sad eyes, like an abandoned dog in an animal sanctuary hoping that someone would take her to a new home.
Gamble didn’t remain chastened for more than a few seconds. He jumped up and stared through the front window as a car passed slowly along the street towards the Methodist chapel. He grunted as if confirming some suspicion to himself.
‘Caretaker at the chapel.’
‘The Barrons, sir?’ said Cooper, beginning to get irritated.
‘Oh, yes. I talked to some of the builders working on their extension,’ said Gamble. ‘Just passing the time, you know. They said the Barrons were really fussy, wanted everything just so. They imported all kinds of fancy things, and still they were constantly complaining.’
He shook his head sadly, as if despairing at the ways of the world.
‘You’ve been inside the house, I suppose?’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘Have you seen their furnishings? Italian. It’s all Italian. They had a man over from Rome. Guido, he was called.’
‘You even interrogated the Italian designer?’
‘Interrogated? What do you mean? That’s your job.’
‘So what would you call it?’
‘I just talk to people. I call it making conversation.’
‘So do people know each other well in Riddings?’
‘No, I wouldn’t say that. It’s not a village in the way I used to think of it,’ said Gamble. ‘I grew up in Bradwell, just across the bridge from Town Gate.’
‘Not far from me, then.’
‘Aye.’ Gamble peered at Cooper more closely, suddenly resembling a startled sheep. ‘I think I might have known…’
‘My father, I expect. Yes.’
‘That’s it. Well… like I was saying, that was a proper village, the sort of place where you know everyone, because folk join in. You know them because your parents knew their parents, and so on.’
‘I understand.’
‘Here, it’s not like that. You can see it just by looking at the place. These newcomers, they know how to keep their privacy all right. So you get the walls, the cameras, the long drives, the locked gates. All of that stuff.’ Gamble smirked again. ‘And when you look at those things, you’ve got to wonder, haven’t you?’
‘Wonder what?’
‘Well… you wonder what it is they’ve got to be so private about.’
‘I see.’
Cooper thought for a moment that Gamble was going to wink at him. Instead he leaned closer, with a sly grin and a lift of one bushy eyebrow. Then he nodded in the general direction of Valley View and Moorside House.
‘What secrets have these people got? What is it they’re trying so hard to hide?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Cooper. ‘I have no idea. But perhaps you do?’
‘Ah,’ said Gamble, delightedly. ‘Now we’re really on the same wavelength. You know what the Bible says. There is a God in Heaven that revealeth all secrets.’
‘Are you a churchgoer?’
‘Yes, I am. But none of them ever go to chapel. That would be the day.’
‘You’re a Methodist, then?’
‘Certainly. Someone has to be. There aren’t many of us left.’
‘Mr Gamble,’ said Cooper. Then, seeing that he wasn’t getting the man’s attention because of some sound outside the house, he repeated it more loudly. ‘Mr Gamble!’
Gamble jumped. ‘Yes? What? Have I told you enough? Have you got the information you need?’
‘Not at all.’
Cooper glanced at the man’s wife, who seemed to shrug helplessly, using only her eyes. He wondered if it would be possible to get the chance to speak to her on her own. And, if he did, whether she would cling to his leg, whimpering pitifully.
‘Tell me again what you saw last night.’
‘I did all that.’
‘A preliminary statement. We’ll need more, I’m afraid.’
‘I didn’t see much, not really. Not until I looked through the window.’
‘You’d heard a noise, is that right?’
‘Yes, a thump or a crash. Perhaps both, I’m not sure now.’
Cooper stifled a sigh. Somebody who already couldn’t be sure the day after an incident probably wasn’t going to make a great witness in court.
‘Tell me exactly where you were when you heard the noise.’
‘It was dark,’ said Gamble.
‘So?’
‘I was in the lane.’
His answers had become suddenly terse. Cooper wished he had someone else with him for this interview. Becky Hurst, preferably. Someone to watch for reactions and absorb impressions, to chip in with an unexpected question. A partner he could discuss the visit with afterwards. But right now he couldn’t spare Becky or any of the other members of his team. There were too many people to speak to, and too many doors to knock on. The first twenty-four hours were so crucial.
‘Which lane do you mean?’ said Cooper. ‘Curbar Lane?’
‘No, at the back.’
‘There’s a small lane running up to Riddings Lodge. Do you mean that one?’
‘Yes, it goes as far as Lane End, the Nowaks’ place. We call it Croft Lane.’
‘Croft Lane? Is that where you were?’
Gamble nodded. ‘Thereabouts.’
Cooper gritted his teeth. Thereabouts wasn’t good enough.
‘We’re going to have to take you back there and let you show us the exact spot,’ he said.
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes.’
‘There was a tree,’ said Gamble. ‘I was standing near a tree. But it was dark, you see.’
‘And what were you doing near this tree?’
‘Just… standing. I’d been out for a walk.’
‘And you heard…?’
‘A thump or a crash.’
‘Which?’
‘A thumping crash. A crashing thump. I don’t know. Both.’
‘And what did you do?’
‘I looked towards the house. The Barrons’ place, Valley View. That was where the noise seemed to come from.’
Cooper leaned forward, deliberately pressuring Gamble to come up with an answer. ‘And what did you see?’
‘I saw a light on.’
‘Where?’
‘In the kitchen.’
‘Was that where the noise came from?’
‘It seemed so to me.’
‘So you went to investigate.’
‘Exactly. Neighbourly concern. Anyone would do the same.’
‘And when you investigated, you saw…?’
‘I looked through the window and realised there was something wrong.’
‘Wait. Before you looked through the window…?’
‘I didn’t see anything. No one around. It was dark, though, like I said. There might have been people in the garden, among the trees, watching me. I thought I was quite brave, actually.’
Cooper had to admit that was true. In those circumstances, Mr Gamble could have been putting himself at risk. He started to feel a bit guilty about questioning him so closely.
‘What do you know about the Barrons?’ he said.
‘Well, everyone knows they have plenty of money,’ said Gamble, visibly relaxing. ‘Rolling in it, they are. You should see the stuff the children get. Mobile phones, those iPod things. New trainers every week. We have grandchildren, and they don’t get anything like that. It doesn’t make them any less happy. And they’ll grow up knowing the value of money. The Barrons’ kids are just ruined.’