Death on High (The Lakeland Murders) (20 page)

It was a glorious spring day, and the last thing that Mann wanted to do was spend his lunchtime in the pub, but he had a feeling that Spedding might be in there. He was dead right, and when he’d got his drink and sat down with the paper he noticed Spedding beckoning to him from his usual table, right in the darkest corner of the pub. Mann put down his paper, took a leisurely sip of his drink and then sauntered over.

‘I hear your girlfriend is out of hospital. Told you, it were just a tap.’

‘Yeh right Joey.  Are we on for this high-wire act of yours, or what?’

‘We’re on. Monday night, late. You’ll be collected.’

‘Any kit you need me to bring? Climbing stuff?’

‘Nah, it’s all sorted. Just don’t forget your head for heights.’

Mann nodded, and walked back to his own table. He found himself staring at the front page of the Cumberland News, wondering why he suddenly felt so uncomfortable. And it only took him a fraction of a second to realise: it was because Spedding was providing the climbing gear. Mann forced himself not to think about that, and forced himself to read the paper as he sipped his pint.

When he left the pub Mann went and bought some flowers for Brockbank’s mother, then wondered if he’d done the right thing. Maybe she was sick of the sight of nature. And because his own mother had died when he was a child Mann was never quite sure what the mums of adult children would like. But before he left Carlisle he peeled the price label off, or as much of it as he could, and put the flowers in the footwell behind the driver’s seat.

He found the farm easily enough, and by the time he’d parked in the yard Ben Brockbank was already pulling on his boots by the back door. The farmhouse was a proper picture-postcard job, and looked as if it had been there forever, but even from a distance Mann could see that it needed plenty of work. The slate roof was covered in pins, and the windows looked rotten.

‘Got your boots?’ asked Brockbank as Mann got out of the car, watching where he stepped. He said he had, and walked round to the back of the car to put them on.

‘Fancy a cuppa now, or shall we walk the farm, while it’s still light?’

‘Let’s walk now Ben. It’ll be too dark after.’

Brockbank led the way, crossing fields and gradually climbing higher. Even up here Mann could see the first signs of spring everywhere.

‘I’m glad we didn’t go in straight off. I just had another row with my dad.’

‘Really, what about?’

‘This place. He knows I love it as much as he does, and he can’t understand why I won’t take it on.’

‘Why won’t you? If he can keep it going I bet you could too.’

‘Mebbe. But I’ll tell you the God’s honest truth. It’s because I’ve got a little boy, and in thirty years time I don’t want him to be in the position I am now. Feeling all this pressure that I’ve got on me now to keep the place going. It would just be a life sentence, even worse than it would be for me if I took it on now.’

‘Things might improve Ben. This recession can’t last for ever.’

‘Can’t it? Anyway, places like this are too small to be economic whatever happens, and we’re not just competing with agribusiness here in the UK, or even in Europe. Farming is a worldwide market now, and it’s just going to get worse.’

‘What about diversification? Isn’t that the buzzword these days?’

For the first time since they’d left the house Brockbank smiled.

‘I am diversifying Gary, or hadn’t you noticed?’

Mann laughed. ‘I see what you mean. But thieving’s not a career, surely? The cops will nab you in the end, surely.’

‘Mebbe, we’ll see. They haven’t yet though, have they? But even if they do there’s plenty round here who won’t blame me, I promise you that.’

‘How d’you work that out Ben? I thought all farmers are worried about the likes of us rustling and nicking machinery and stuff.’

‘Of course they are, but I’d never nick off a neighbour, or any other small farmer come to that. Not local, not anywhere. Any time you’re with me we’ll only steal from those that can afford it.’

Mann caught Brockbank’s drift.

‘You mean Joey Spedding doesn’t see it that way?’

‘Nah, course not. He targets the weak, people like my dad. But he’s a townie, and a nasty bastard with it. It’s not my business of course, but I’d watch yourself with him Gary.’

Mann nodded, and changed the subject.

‘What does your mum say about all this business with your dad?’

Brockbank veered off, walked over to a dry stone wall and picked up a few stones from the ground, and pushed them back into the wall one by one.

‘Look at this, they all need work. It would take me forever to sort all this walling, even on a small hill farm like this one.’

They walked on in silence for a while.

‘My mum is finding it really tough’ said Brockbank eventually. ‘She’s worried about my dad, worried about me, worried about the future. I just think they deserve better than this after a lifetime of graft. My dad hasn’t taken a day off work in five years, not one. And then you see all these benefit scroungers...’ Brockbank paused. ‘No offence Gary.’

‘None taken. Until last month I’d never signed on in my life. But don’t you do it? I assumed you did anyway.’

‘Nah, just couldn’t. I was brought up to stand on my own two feet.’

‘Even if it means robbing?’

‘Aye, even then. Listen Gary, it’s the likes of those who we nicked those cattle from who are putting my dad out of business, so don’t expect any sympathy from me.’

Mann held up his hands in mock surrender.

‘Sorry buddy’ said Brockbank quickly, ‘I didn’t mean to take it out on you like. It’s the farming job, it gets under your skin.’

‘I know what you mean’ said Mann. Brockbank looked confused.

‘You mean the army?’

Mann hesitated for a moment. He had an almost overwhelming urge to tell Brockbank who he really was, and what he was doing there.

‘Aye, I mean the army.’

‘So why did you leave?’

This time it was Mann who walked on in silence for a while.

‘I went to one too many funerals.’

They walked on for another twenty minutes, Brockbank doing the talking, about the land, the stock, stories about the past. The sun was setting over the fells in the far west by the time they were heading back to the farmhouse.

‘It’s a lovely spot Ben, it really is.’

‘Aye, but you can’t eat the view, can you? Talking of which, I could eat a horse.’

‘Not your mum too’ laughed Mann. ‘I thought it was just the big supermarkets that were up to that business.’

‘Don’t get me started on all that’ said Brockbank. ‘ And I was just starting to cheer up a bit ‘n’all. Come on, let’s get into the warm, and see if my old man’s calmed down a bit yet.’

Monday, 18th March

Andy Hall hadn’t had a great weekend. The kids were stressed about exams, he was tired, and the household chores had got him down. It didn’t help that he hadn’t seen anyone else, other than the check-out lady at the supermarket and the postie, between Friday evening and Monday morning. He’d been tempted to text Jane Francis and ask her if she fancied a drink, but he hadn’t.

Getting to work didn’t make him feel much better. Jane had her head down when he arrived, and the atmosphere in the office was subdued. They obviously all knew what had happened with Robinson. When he’d first become a copper Hall had been surprised how fast news travelled around the station, but he soon realised that he should have expected it. It’s just in the nature of cops to be nosy. Knowing other people’s business was half the attraction of the job.

Ray Dixon arrived on the dot of clocking on time, and came straight into Hall’s office. Generally he didn’t go looking for any unnecessary contact with senior officers, in case they asked him to do something, so Hall guessed that he wanted to talk about Jane.

‘It’s about Jane. Robinson’s got no right. She’s the hardest working copper I know.’

‘He’s got every right Ray. I told the Super that it was down to me, but he wasn’t having any of it.’

‘No surprise that, boss. The chances of you going off piste are pretty small.’

Hall was slightly hurt. He liked to think of himself as his own man, even at work.

‘Building up for your next skiing holiday are you Ray?’ he said, changing the subject.

‘Very funny boss, but yes, it’s all booked. We’re going to Tignes this year. Should be plenty of late season snow.’

‘I’m sure your research has been meticulous, as always, Ray. But seriously, keep an eye on Jane will you? I’m not sure what I can do to help, but I’ll do whatever I can.’

‘Really boss?’ Dixon laughed, and Hall let it go. He wasn’t in the mood for
double-entendres
.

‘So is Jane all you wanted to talk about Ray? I don’t want to keep you from choosing your new salopettes.’

Dixon smiled. ‘There was something else actually. It’s this job that Ian’s on tonight with Spedding.’

Hall sat up a little straighter. ‘Have you got concerns? I mean specific ones. This whole thing is keeping me awake at night, I don’t mind telling you.’

‘Nothing very specific boss, but I don’t like it. We’ve got Spedding mixed up with some nasty cons, proper heavy-duty villains, and we’ve got a job that’s happening high up. It’s a recipe for disaster boss.’

‘I hear you Ray, but what do you propose?’

‘I’d like to try to follow them wherever they’re going to tonight, and keep an eye on the job like. Off the meter too boss, no overtime required.’

‘Blimey Ray, have you been sniffing the sun screen again? Listen, it’s a great thought and a generous offer, and I’ll pass it on to Ian of course. But I think we both know what he’ll say.’

‘That he wants to go it alone. He’s like the bloody Lone Ranger, Ian is.’

‘Well we’ve already got a Tonto in SOCO, so you can’t volunteer for that job too. And the thing is that if I let you go, and I came as well, then Gory Gorham and her ghastly pals at HQ would have the whole bloody force mobilised tonight, to keep an eye on us. It would be a bloody cascade of health and safety bullshit. So sorry Ray, I think we’ve just got to let him go it alone this time, OK?’

Hall had another long talk on the phone with Ian later that morning. He sounded a bit tense, but quite firm about being left alone. He told Hall about his meal with Brockbank.

‘Don’t get too close Ian’ said Hall, after he’d described the meal and Brockbank’s folks.

Hall was sure that they were lovely people, but that didn’t stop their son from being a villain. In some ways it just made it worse. ‘Like I said Ian, he’s a collar, and he’s going to get decent jail time for what we’ve already got him cold for. The press office has already been on to me today asking what they can say about the rural crime unit, because they’re taking flak from the local media and pressure from some of the big landowners. They’re saying we’ve achieved bugger all so far, and you can see why that is.’

‘Bloody typical’ said Mann.

‘Come on Ian, don’t come all Wat Tyler on me.’

‘Who’s he then? Singer in some band you like I expect.’

‘He led the peasants revolt. He was betrayed by the king, and had his head cut off and put on a spike if I recall rightly.’

‘Bloody typical of the ruling class’ said Mann, and Hall decided to leave him to it. When the time came Ian Mann would do his duty. Always had, always would.

After lunch Hall felt strong enough to talk to Jane. She seemed very subdued when she came in to the office. Hall tried a bit of cheerful small-talk first, and got nowhere. So he got back to work matters.

‘You do know that the Harrison file is still open, don’t you Jane?’

‘Really, I thought Robinson had warned us off.’

‘He’s not very keen that we talk to Lillian Hill, and that’s an understatement, but he didn’t say anything about Vicky Harrison. There’s absolutely no reason why we shouldn’t talk to her again. Don’t know about you, but I really want to know if she reckons Lillian as her husband’s bit on the side. What do you say?’

Jane almost smiled. ‘You bet. Shall I get something sorted?’

At six o’clock Hall and Jane arrived outside Vicky Harrison’s house in his car. Hall had agreed to drop Jane back at work after. ‘I’ve got lots to finish up before, you know’ she’d said sadly, just before they’d left the office. Hall did know. He wanted to take her in his arms, but he knew that he couldn’t.

‘So how shall we play this Andy?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Social call or part of an ongoing investigation into a suspicious death.’