Chapter Thirty

Fry hadn’t really been watching for Ben Cooper to come on duty that morning. A prisoner had come into the cells overnight, and she’d been consulting the custody sergeant about interview arrangements.

As she passed through the security door from the custody suite to go back to the main building, she paused and pulled up her collar against a flurry of rain. Then she glanced across at the staff car park. Her attention had been drawn by a flash of light from a windscreen as a car backed into a parking space. She recognized Cooper’s red Toyota, and she hesitated, intending to wait for him so they could walk up to the CID room together. She saw Cooper get out, but he didn’t look round.

Then the passenger door began to swing open, and Fry realized he’d given someone a lift to work. He was the perfect Good Samaritan. Probably Gavin Murfin’s car had broken down, and Cooper had stepped in to help.

She was about to move away when she caught a glimpse of blonde hair and a navy-blue sweater. Cooper’s early-morning passenger was entirely the wrong shape to be Gavin Murfin. Entirely wrong. The image of a broken-down car vanished from her mind, to be replaced by a different scenario altogether.

Fry found it difficult to concentrate as she made her way back upstairs. She was trying to remember what else she had to attend to that was urgent before she went out. There was definitely something. Probably several things. But one thing she wanted to do was get those skeletons in the Alder Hall crypt checked out. John Casey had said there had been an earlier inventory of the bones, which should help a lot.

‘Alder Hall? Oh, I think I can help you here,’ said Dr Jamieson when Fry rang him. ‘The study you’re referring to was carried out by one of my predecessors. The records will be here in our archives.’

‘That would be wonderful. But are you sure?’

‘I can soon check. I’ll get back to you ASAP.’

As soon as Cooper entered the room, he sensed something was wrong. There was one of those atmospheres, a vague uneasiness that was difficult to put his finger on. He looked at Fry, and saw her putting the phone down. The tightness of her expression confirmed his suspicion.

‘There was an incident at the funeral director’s during the night,’ she said, without bothering to say ‘good morning’.

Puzzled, Cooper looked at his watch. It wasn’t as if he was late for duty or anything. He was a bit early, in fact. He felt a surge of irritation at her rudeness.

‘An incident? At Hudson and Slack, you mean?’

‘Where else?’

‘Well, I don’t know,’ he said. ‘There are plenty of other funeral directors in this division.’

Fry gave him a cool stare. ‘Yes, at Hudson and Slack. A person or persons unknown set fire to the place in the early hours of the morning. The fire service reports extensive damage. I haven’t been out there yet. I thought you might want to come along – if you’re not busy with something else, that is.’