Cooper ran a finger round the fridge door, checking the rubber seal for gaps. It hadn’t occurred to him things could get as bad as that so quickly, just because he hadn’t bothered checking inside for a few days. It wasn’t as if the weather was particularly warm or anything. It was nearly the end of October, and summer was over in the Peak District. But the fridge had come with the flat, so he wasn’t sure how old it might be.

‘I don’t know what else I can do,’ he said. ‘You’re the executor, Matt.’

‘I hadn’t forgotten.’

Of course, he knew what was bothering his brother and making him so impatient. Probate on their mother’s will was taking so long that he was starting to get worried about the future of Bridge End Farm. If money had to be found from the estate, the only way it could happen would be if assets were sold off.

‘I thought you’d know a bit more about the law than I do,’ said Matt.

‘Well, not this part of the law.’

He didn’t bother to tell Matt that his knowledge of criminal law was also a bit sketchy. There were eight thousand criminal offences on the statute books – and more than a thousand of them had been invented since Cooper became a police officer. Without the manuals, he’d be lost, like everyone else.

Cooper left the fridge alone and crossed the kitchen, dodging the cat that was sitting looking at him expectantly, having heard a rumour there might be food. On the days he was at home, meal times seemed to come round every hour.

‘Besides,’ he said, ‘don’t forget how much Mr Ballard charges for his time.’

‘You’re right, Ben. Just a phone call then, I suppose.’

‘At least it’ll keep the subject fresh in his mind.’

There was silence for a few moments. The Cooper brothers had always been comfortable with silence. They’d grown up together on the farm hardly needing to speak, because each understood what the other was thinking. But that was when they were physically together. You could read a person’s thoughts in their face, in the way they moved or breathed, or what they did with their hands. It was different on the phone, though. Silence felt awkward and wrong. Not to mention a waste of money. With his mobile pressed to his ear, Ben started to wonder whether he could get a reduced tariff from Vodaphone for the amount of non-talk time he used.

But in this case, he sensed that there was more to his brother’s silence than awkwardness.

‘Is there something else, Matt?’

‘Yeah . . .’