‘You should have had a visit from a scene-of-crime officer.’
‘Yes, a civilian.’
‘Most of them are. They’re just as professional.’
‘And yet now we have a crime at my neighbours’, and the police are out in force. Three detectives have been to my house in the space of twenty-four hours. I’m so lucky.’
‘Well, we’re doing our best, sir.’
‘That was a detective you sent yesterday?’ said Nowak. ‘He ate a lot of my wife’s chocolate cake.’
‘Detective Constable Murfin. He’s very experienced.’
‘Yes, his experience shows in his waistline.’
Cooper introduced Carol Villiers and watched as she returned Nowak’s firm handshake. He found that he was looking forward to getting her impressions of the man. He already knew he could trust her opinion.
‘We’re sorry to bother you again, sir,’ said Cooper. ‘But the fact is, your property is in a very strategic position here, from the point of view of our inquiry.’
‘I know, I know. You think the people came up this lane. And if they did, I ought to have seen them. And if they came in a car, they would have turned round in my driveway. But I can’t tell you whether any of that happened. I didn’t see anything, nor did my wife.’
‘Your father also lives here?’
‘My father was already in bed at that time. He’s not in the best of health.’
Cooper looked at the front of the house. ‘What sort of view do you have from your front window? Can you see the gate?’
‘Not quite.’
‘And you don’t have CCTV, I noticed.’
‘No, unlike some of my more wealthy neighbours. So, as you can see, we would not be able to tell if someone drove up this lane and turned round.’
‘Would you mind if we take a look along the boundary on this side, sir?’
‘Help yourself.’
Villiers accompanied Cooper as he followed a flagged path towards the right-hand corner of the property. According to his sketch map, the house he could just see through the trees was South Croft, home of Mrs Slattery, the doctor’s widow. Croft Lane ran just behind the hedge towards Nowak’s. But the lane was so narrow and empty of traffic, he wouldn’t have known it was there.
‘What are you looking for?’ asked Villiers.
‘I want to get a good idea of the layout in this area, the way the properties adjoin each other. Who neighbours who, and how well they can see the approach roads.’ Cooper looked at her apologetically. ‘I realise that might sound a bit strange.’
‘Not at all. You need to know the ground. It’s vital.’
They walked back past the gate, where the gravel drive swept up to the house. Cooper glanced out on to the lane, then back up at the Nowaks’ house. Richard Nowak was still watching them from his front door, his arms folded, sleeves rolled up over muscular forearms.
‘He’s not missing much now,’ said Villiers quietly.
Cooper restrained a smile. ‘Have you noticed that there’s one feature we can see from here? If you look down the lane…’
‘Another set of gates. Rather grand ones.’
‘It’s the entrance to Riddings Lodge. Mr Edson. Quite a statement, aren’t they?’
‘And he has CCTV, I imagine?’
‘Oh, yes. Why?’
‘Mr Nowak’s comment. Unlike some of my more wealthy neighbours.’
‘Ah. A little bit of envy creeping through there.’
‘Aren’t those gilt-edged gates all about provoking envy?’
Cooper nodded. ‘Of course. I wonder if there’s any envy of the Barrons, too?’
‘Can we see Valley View from here?’
Cooper pointed down the lane. ‘It’s close to where the road takes a bend there. See the big bank of rhododendrons?’
‘Yes?’
‘Those mark the boundary of the grounds at Riddings Lodge. Valley View and Fourways are on the other side of them.’
‘We’d better move, before Mr Nowak starts getting nervous,’ said Villiers.
The last section of boundary was a stone wall, which ran right up to the rough ground at the foot of Riddings Edge. Over the wall was more Edson territory. But the Nowaks and the Edsons had made sure they couldn’t see each other along this section. The wall was too high for that.
‘What next?’ asked Villiers.
‘I need to speak to Barry Gamble again. And I’m glad to have someone with me this time.’
‘Someone?’
‘Actually,’ said Cooper, ‘I’m glad to have you.’
When they left Lane End, Cooper noticed that his tyres had pushed the gravel up into waves like the wake of a boat. It was laid so deep and soft that every vehicle, no matter how small, must leave this impression. The marks of the Mini Clubman’s tyres would be just as visible as those of his Toyota. He supposed someone must rake this stuff back into place regularly to keep it looking neat. Otherwise there would soon be wheel ruts worn into the drive, and bare earth exposed. And that would never do.
Bare earth? Cooper looked back at the drive again as he reached the gate. If there was bare earth under this gravel, he could see no sign of it. No weeds broke the white surface – not a single blade of grass trying its luck. Someone with a rake and a tank full of systemic weedkiller, then.
A few yards down Curbar Lane, he saw a smart blue van, the signage on its side advertising Garden Landscaping and Design Services, Paving and Driveway Specialists. He stopped when he saw a man in a matching blue overall, and got out to speak to him, showing his warrant card.
‘Excuse me, do you maintain many of the driveways in this area?’
‘Oh, yes. We installed quite a few of them, too.’
‘At Valley View, for instance?’
‘Stone paving, right? A very nice design, that. Expensive, but it lasts well. We installed that about three years ago, when the new owners came in. Oh, isn’t that the people…?’
‘Yes. There’s no gravel on their property, is there? I couldn’t see any.’
He shook his head. ‘Gravel. no. Not at Valley View.’
‘I thought gravel was making a bit of a comeback.’
‘Well, gravel driveways cost less to build, but they need more maintenance. Over time, tyre tracks appear, hollows fill with rain, the surface breaks down. And keeping down weeds and grass is a never-ending job. I’m working on the drive of the house across the road there. If it were me, I’d have put a weed barrier down under the gravel when it was laid. But I didn’t build this one. I just got the maintenance. I’m not complaining, though.’
‘There must be plenty of work.’
‘Oh, aye.’ The man looked at Cooper more closely. ‘My name’s Brian Monk, by the way. This is my company. Well, it belongs to me and my brother. But we thought Monk Brothers sounded odd for a trading name.’
‘A bit too monastic.’
‘Maybe.’ He removed a blue baseball cap and scratched his head. ‘Well, if you’re interested in Riddings, it’s a bit funny round here. You’d think gravel would be a good material to use in a place like this. It matches the predominant stone colouring of the area. Nicely rural, like. And a lot of people just like the crunch of it under a car’s wheels. Some even go for it as a security measure, too – you can hear people coming, you know. But the thing is, you can’t use gravel on a site that has any gradient to speak of. It needs regular top-up, and can be really tricky to keep in place. And there are lots of gradients here, as you can see.’
‘Any other problems with it?’
‘Well, it sprays out everywhere, especially if you like to spin the wheels on your posh convertible.’
Cooper laughed, recognising the view that a tradesman must get of the people he worked for.
‘I bet they complain a lot, don’t they?’
‘You can say that again,’ said Monk. ‘See, I tell them – if you have a lawn next to your gravel driveway, you’re going to have to pay for expensive repairs to mowing equipment. Not to mention the potential damage to people and property if gravel gets spat out at speed by a mower. Then if you get it spreading on to pathways, there’s another hazard. Granules will roll underfoot, and you get people slipping and falling over. Some of these folk are paranoid about getting sued for injuries. If you’re laying gravel, you don‘t lay it any deeper than two inches, otherwise cars sink in. It does depend on the size of the granules, though.’