Death on High (The Lakeland Murders) (13 page)

He grabbed his binoculars, slung them round his neck and got out of the car. He walked around the field, watching the bookies set up their chalk boards, and some of the owners walking their dogs. Cars and vans were still coming in to the field pretty regularly, and a few minutes later Mann caught sight of Brockbank arriving in his dad’s old Land Rover. He was on his own.

Mann strolled over to the Landie, and waited for Brockbank to get out.

‘Bring back memories?’ asked Brockbank.

‘It hasn’t changed at all. The sound of the dogs, the smell of the aniseed, this landscape, even the people. It couldn’t be anywhere else in the world, could it?’

Brockbank smiled. ‘That’s why I love it so much. It’s just something for us locals, it’s not for the tourists and the rich offcomers, it’s for us. They put sheepdog trials on telly years ago, but they’ve never tried it with this.’

‘So you’ll be having a flutter?’ asked Mann.

‘Not today. I’ll just be looking at which hounds look in form, and what their handlers have to say. It’d be too risky to take a punt today.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

‘Don’t let me put you off. By the way, I’ve got something for you.’

Brockbank passed over an envelope, and Mann slipped it into his pocket.

‘You not going to count it?’

‘I still trust you.’

Brockbank grinned. ‘See you in a bit. I need to see a man about a dog.’

Mann watched the handlers preparing for the start, taking off the hounds’ coats. The dogs were all baying, straining and jumping, ready for the off. The spectators were mainly over by the bookies’ ring, and quite a few bets were being placed by the looks of it. Mann walked over and stood near the ring, and watched as the handlers lined up, holding their animals by the scruff of the neck. By now the barking had reached a crescendo, and then they were off, tearing across the field, over a dry stone wall and on up the fellside. The barking faded quickly, and soon the dogs were no more than white dots on the hillside.

After just a few minutes the first dogs were right up on the tops, following the scent trail that had been laid a couple of hours before. They were visible most of the time, and Mann watched through his binoculars. But it didn’t make any difference, because one trail-hound looked exactly the same as the next to Mann.

The bookies and the punters certainly knew better though, and they all were watching the dogs running along the ridge line. Odds were altered as the dogs ran, and money changed hands. Mann walked over to the burger van, and bought two teas. He carried one over to Brockbank, who was standing near the finish.

‘Cheers marrer’ said Brockbank. ‘They’ll not be long now.’

The hounds were plunging off the hill now, and like four-legged fell runners they each chose their own route down. The handlers were getting their catch bowls ready, and when the hounds were still half a mile away the shouting started, with handlers and supporters calling out their dogs’ names and bashing the sides of the plastic feed tubs that they were holding out. One hound was well ahead of the rest, and it crossed the line before much of the field was even back over the final wall.

‘Excuse me while I collect my winnings’ said Brockbank, grinning.

‘I thought you weren’t betting today?’

‘Never believe a gambler Gary. Especially about betting.’

Mann watched Brockbank collect his winnings, share a joke with a few of the older men standing in the bookies’ ring, and then start strolling back. Ian Mann was Kendal born and raised, but he knew that Brockbank was a different kind of local. He envied that different sense of belonging, but found himself wondering if it was a curse as much as blessing. Could Brockbank ever have gone away, as he had, or would he spend his whole life trying to live in a world that had changed beyond recognition? Would anyone even be hound trailing in another fifty years? Mann had his doubts.

‘You going to risk your winnings on the other races?’ he asked when Brockbank came back.

‘Nah, I’ll just watch, get an idea of form.’

‘That’s what you said the last time.’

‘I know, but this time I mean it. Honest. These hounds are just young ‘uns, so I don’t know how they’ll run.’

They walked back to where the hounds were being lined up for the next race. The flag dropped, and they were away.

‘Any other work on the cards?’ asked Mann.

‘Day or night?’

‘Either. I’m not fussed.’

‘Might be a night shift coming up, but it would mean travelling.’

‘Abroad?’

‘In a way. Yorkshire.’

Mann laughed.

‘Yeh, I’d be up for it.’

‘You don’t know what it is yet. You’re always so bloody keen, marrer.’

Mann didn’t reply, but watched the hounds flying up the fellside. It started to spit with rain.

‘Tell you what’ said Brockbank, ‘I’ve got some people to talk to, but it’d be a bit of driving I expect. A wagon with some livestock on board. Can you drive a truck?’

‘Yeh, got my license in the military. Haven’t done it for a while, but I’m sure I’d be fine.’

‘I’m sure you would. Tell you what, how about we head for the pub after this race? I think my winnings would run to a pie and a pint.’

Tuesday, 5th March

‘So how did Robinson take the news about the Hamilton enquiry?’ asked Jane, as they sat in Hall’s office reading through the background material on the couple that Jane had amassed so far. And amassed was the right word: there was page after page of the stuff.

‘He looked liked he’d just swallowed a wasp, and was now sucking a lemon.’

Jane laughed, and Hall was pleased. He’d thought that up earlier, knowing that Jane would ask.

‘But he’s happy for us to develop the investigation?’

‘I wouldn’t say happy, but there’s really nothing he can do, is there? He’d have to declare an interest, and he’s not keen to do that at all.’

‘Great.’

‘So you’ve set up a meeting with Vicky?’

‘Yes, after work again. She asked who’d be there, and when I told her that we both would be she suggested her house. Sorry about that.’

Hall ignored the implication. He had no intention of getting caught out again. But he couldn’t help but smile. ‘OK, that’s good. Can you see anything in this lot that takes us anywhere? I’ve only skimmed it so far.’

‘Not really. She really doesn’t need the insurance payout by the looks of things, but it’s odd that we’re not picking up any texts or emails from this mystery woman on his phone or computers.’

‘Another mobile and a separate email account then?’ said Hall.

‘That’d be favourite, yes.’

‘I wonder why he was going to so much trouble’ said Hall thoughtfully. ‘In my experience people who are having affairs tend not to be so careful. It’s a kind of death-wish for their previous experience I think.’

This time it was Jane who let the comment pass. She had a pretty good idea what Andy Hall’s experience was.

Ian Mann signed on at eleven, and he didn’t enjoy the experience. Someone had obviously tried to make the Job Centre look and feel less municipal, but it hadn’t worked. He didn’t like the shuffling, and the low voices. Afterwards he went home, changed into his running gear, and was just about to try to get it all out of his system when he heard a knock at front door. It was one of Spedding’s boys, and though they hadn’t been introduced Mann already knew his name, Tom Rigg, and his form. He had no history of violence.

‘Joey says be in the pub in ten minutes.’

‘I’ll be there.’

He didn’t bother to change again, and he walked into the pub exactly when required. Spedding nodded to him as Mann walked to the bar. He bought himself a pint and walked over to Spedding’s table. He gestured for Mann to sit down.

‘Your bloke Turner checks out.’

Mann nodded and sipped his drink. He could get to like this drinking at lunchtime, if he wasn’t careful.

‘This is Tom, and this is Brian.’ Mann nodded a greeting.

‘So what you got on Turner then, eh? It takes some leverage to get the likes of him to go bent.’

‘We go back a long way.’

‘He said. Anyway, that’s your business. We’re here to talk about mine. Now, as it happens I might have a use for that paperwork soon, but first we got another little job on, and we could do with an extra pair of hands. You interested?’

‘Definitely.’

‘It’s a removal job.’

‘What kind of removal?’

‘You’ll find out. It’s heavy work, mind.’

‘That’s OK, I’m up for that.’

‘Good. It’s tonight, we’ll be round for you around midnight. We’re going to have some food now. You going to join us?’

Mann didn’t even know that food was on offer in the King’s Head, he’d certainly never seen anyone eating, but Brian went to the bar and a few minutes later a middle aged woman, with greasy hair and a greasier apron, came over, and glanced at Spedding.

‘Pie’ he said, not looking back at her.

‘Garden or mushy?’

‘Mushy.’

It didn’t take very long for all four of them to place their orders.

Jane Francis was looking forward to seeing Vicky Harrison, and felt sure that Hall would ask her to lead the interview. And she was right. He always did that when he didn’t feel comfortable.

Vicky Harrison led them in to the sitting room, where she sat on the large sofa. She looked at Hall and patted the seat next to her. He smiled, a little uncomfortably Jane thought, and sat down. Jane sat on the sofa opposite, and took her notebook out of her bag. Vicky turned to Hall.

‘Well this is very nice. To what do I owe the honour?’

‘We need to ask you something about your husband. It’s rather personal I’m afraid’ said Jane.

Vicky didn’t look phased. ‘Fire away Constable. I bet you’ve been looking forward to this all day.’

Jane did her best to follow Hall’s example and to keep her expression and her tone totally neutral. She didn’t find it easy.

‘Were you were aware that your husband was having an affair?’

‘Tony? Who says?’

‘Were you aware of it?’

Vicky looked at Hall and back at Jane. She took her time before replying. Hall found himself wondering if her posture, now rather stiff and upright, was what Butterworth had seen that day on Fairfield.

‘I did have some concerns, yes. Tony was always a creature of habit, and very much a home-bird, so I did notice that he was out more in the evenings, and was often out of the office when I phoned. And that was odd, considering how little work they had on.’

‘Did you have any suspicions as to who the other woman might be?’

‘No. I hadn’t got that far.’

‘Someone from the Church perhaps?’

Vicky laughed. ‘No. That lot only have sex at all because God told them to produce more little Christians. They’re all much too holy to actually enjoy it.’

‘Isn’t that a bit of a generalisation?’

‘Have you ever been to St Jim’s?’

‘No, why?’

‘I think it might suit you, that’s all.’

‘Do you know how long this affair had been going on for?’

‘If there was one at all, then not very long. A few months perhaps.’

‘That seems like a long time to let things drift on for.’

‘Are you married, Constable?’

‘No.’

‘Of course you’re not. But what I was going to say was that I was married for a long time, twenty three years in fact, so in that context a few months isn’t very long at all. Marriages evolve and change at glacial speeds, so you hardly even notice that you’ve moved from one place to somewhere quite different. At least ours was like that anyway. And it always my husband who set the tone, and the pace.’

‘We will be investigating you and your husband’s affairs further’ said Jane, and Hall was sure he heard an extra emphasis on the penultimate word, ‘so is there anything that you can tell us that might us help us identify this woman?’

‘If she exists.’

‘Yes, if she exists.’

‘No, I can’t.’

Hall decided to jump in. The interview couldn’t become less productive.

‘I wanted to ask about Tony’s interests. Outside church, work and family...’

‘In that order’ Vicky interrupted.

‘Outside those three’ continued Hall patiently, ‘what else did Tony do?’

Vicky shook her head. ‘Not a thing. It always seemed like enough.’