The Kill Call

upset about Patrick Rawson’s death, obviously. But I think there was also an element of relief, though he would never have said so. I knew him so well that I could practically read his thoughts. I think Dad was already starting to work out in his mind what Patrick’s death would mean from a business point of view. He was beginning to think about the paperwork, make calls to lawyers, all that sort of thing.’
    ‘He was planning ahead, then?’
    ‘Definitely. He’s that sort of man. Conscientious, methodical, always thinking about his work. He was almost itching to get his teeth into the business formalities.’
    Hitchens glanced at Fry. People who were busy planning ahead rarely committed suicide, as they both knew.
    ‘And one final question, Mrs Lacey: Is there anyone you can think of who might have wished your father harm?’
    Lacey shook her head again. ‘No. Except –’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Well, I thank God that Dad never changed his will in favour of the Outram woman. For a gold digger, that would have been a big temptation put in her way, wouldn’t it?’
       
    Before Cooper could explore the Royal Observer Corps any further, Fry came back into the CID room with a disgusted look on her face. That didn’t bode well. He’d seen that look too often, and it had usually ended badly. These days, though, it didn’t seem to matter quite so much. He could survive whatever Fry threw at him.
    ‘Uh-oh,’ said Murfin, looking up and noticing the same thing. ‘What’s wrong now, I wonder?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘You could ask her, if you’re feeling suicidal.’
    Cooper got up to follow Fry to her desk.
    ‘Ben?’ said Murfin, in horror. ‘I didn’t think you really were that tired of life.’
    ‘So,’ said Cooper, when he faced Fry, ‘what’s the next move?’
    She raised an eyebrow, then looked uncertain when it seemed to have no effect on him.
    ‘Back to square one,’ she said. ‘Back to Longstone Moor, and the two people on horseback caught on the hunt saboteurs’ camera. Back to the hunt themselves.’
    ‘You can’t still be obsessed with the hunt, Diane?’
    ‘I am not –’ began Fry. Then she seemed to calm herself. ‘I’m not obsessed with the hunt. But we’re going to start again from first base, we’re going to identify the people Patrick Rawson met. Those riders were either members of the hunt, or they were seen by them.’
    ‘You’re sure of that?’
    ‘Ben, as far as I’m concerned, the hunt is all about violence. Even if the violent instincts are dressed up in red coats and following an artificial scent, it’s still about violence. Basic principle.’
    ‘There must be some way I can change your mind.’
    ‘I doubt it.’
    Cooper realized it was probably true that her mind wouldn’t be changed. But it was no reason for him to stop trying.
    ‘What about Michael Clay?’ he said.
    ‘Well, now that we know his family is local, it puts a different complexion on his possible involvement.’
    ‘Just because he was born in Birchlow?’
    ‘He must know people in the area,’ said Fry. ‘People must know him. I don’t have to tell you how it works, Ben.’
    ‘He would have been a young man when his family moved away to Birmingham.’
    ‘It makes no difference. His roots are here.’
    ‘I suppose you’re right.’
    ‘I am right,’ said Fry.
    Cooper knew she was right, but it was interesting to hear her argue the significance of someone’s roots. Fry had always seemed to him to be a totally rootless person. She’d been taken away from her parents when she was very young, moved from foster home to foster home, separated from her sister, then finally washed up here in the Peak District, a hundred miles from anywhere that she knew.
    ‘Some connections might emerge from the family history,’ he said. ‘Did you happen to ask Pauline Outram about the jewellery box?’
    ‘Yes. She said it was her mother’s. The only thing Pauline inherited from her.’
    ‘And her uncle’s briefcase?’
    ‘She has no idea.’
    ‘So how do you fit the Eden Valley Hunt into this picture?’ asked Cooper.
    ‘Patrick Rawson was staying at the Birch Hall Country Hotel, and had arranged to meet someone near Birchlow. During that encounter, he was killed, and the hunt were right in the middle of it. Given Michael Clay’s origins in Birchlow, you can’t tell me that’s a coincidence.’
    ‘No. So, what? Some kind of old family feud that Rawson stumbled into by accident? Could