The Kill Call

a call from Fry as he left Birchlow, and decided to take the route across Longstone Edge itself. All along the edge were lay-bys, retired couples sitting in their little Smart cars to eat sandwiches and drink tea, enjoying the tranquillity of the Peak District before the Easter rush of tourists.
    Driving along the edge was the closest thing to flying Cooper could think of, without having to queue at security and cram yourself into an economy-class cabin. Looking out of the passenger window of the car, he couldn’t see any sign of the ground, just an open expanse way out into space, and a glimpse of the valley down below. Coasting down the Longstone Edge road was just like being in an aircraft coming in to land, watching the earth growing gradually closer.
    It wasn’t a good idea to take your eyes off the road and admire the scenery for too long, though. A while ago, a woman had driven her car off the edge somewhere about here, ending up lodged in the trees below the road. She’d stayed there for twenty-four hours, too, trapped in her car as motorists passed on the road without seeing her.
    At the top, he heard the rumble of an engine, the whine of gears, the rattle of falling rock. Another quarry truck was labouring up the long track to the opencast workings. A scattering of sheep ambled along the roadside, where the dry-stone walls had fallen or vanished altogether. Their fleeces were thick and heavy after the winter, making their movements ungainly, like a bunch of walking armchairs. They didn’t seem a bit concerned to be sharing their stretch of road with those massive haulage lorries.
    When Cooper appeared at the scene to get the latest update, Fry described the video footage received from the hunt saboteur.
    ‘A shout?’ he said.
    ‘Probably someone calling the dogs back. The hounds, I mean.’
    He noted that she’d corrected herself on the use of ‘hound’. Could it be that Fry was finally learning to fit in? She’d been in Derbyshire for a few years now, the big-city girl out of her depth in the country. For the whole of that time, she’d made it plain that she resented officers like Cooper for knowing better than she did. And Cooper felt that he’d made himself the prime target of her resentment, somehow. It was almost as if he’d done something much more personal that had caused permanent, unforgivable offence. It was a pity – he felt sure they would work better together if he could only get over this barrier.
    ‘What did they shout?’ he asked her. ‘Could you tell?’
    ‘The quality of the sound is terrible,’ said Fry. ‘But the name sounds like Rosie.’
    ‘Rosie?’
    That didn’t sound right to Cooper. In his experience, hounds tended to be given names like Soldier, or Statesman, or Pirate. Rosie was far too twee for a foxhound. Fry wouldn’t realize that, of course.

    ‘It might tie in with what some of the hunt saboteurs told Inspector Redfearn about hearing the kill call,’ said Fry. ‘You know what that means?’
    Cooper tried not to look too smug. ‘Yes, I know what the kill call is.’
    ‘So …?’
    ‘These riders,’ he said. ‘Were they wearing hunting dress?’
    ‘They were in tweed jackets.’
    ‘Ratcatcher? But that’s autumn hunting dress.’
    Fry laughed. ‘It doesn’t matter what time of year it is, surely?’
    This time, Cooper couldn’t resist smiling at the awareness of his superior knowledge. ‘I think you’ll find it does, Diane. You don’t wear ratcatcher in March.’
    He saw Fry hesitate then. He had to say that for her, at least – if you sounded sure enough of yourself, it did make her stop and think twice.
    ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘what I really wanted you for was to come with me to the Forbes place. The woman there is joint master of the Eden Valley Hunt. There are three masters, apparently, but the other two live in Sheffield, and she’s our local person. Do you know her, by any chance?’
    ‘I know of her,’ admitted Cooper. ‘I don’t think we’ve ever actually met.’
    ‘Good. I spoke to her on Tuesday, during the hunt. But it wasn’t a good time to get anything out of her. I want to corner her at home.’
    ‘Corner her? You make her sound like a trapped rat.’
    ‘Well, that’s kind of what I’m hoping for. I’m sure the hunt people were closing ranks against me. Definitely covering something up.’
    ‘So you said. But I wouldn’t be too quick to jump to that conclusion,’ said Cooper. ‘When do you want to