Then he’d finally made the call. As quick as he could – no name, no location, no return number.

And Sean had discovered that he was on the moor, in the middle of the dark heather and the capped mine shafts. And he’d known where he could dispose of the phone. He’d climbed the fence and watched it tumble out of sight, heard the smash as it hit the rocks on the bottom. No one would be calling that phone again.

It was a pity, though. It had been a nice new Sony Ericsson with video calling and everything. At least he still had the money.

Sean was feeling calmer now. He dressed in clean clothes, wished that he had a smoke available to steady his hand, then lay down on his bed to wait until he was called. He plugged in his iPod again. Not Coldplay this time, but the Kaiser Chiefs: ‘I Predict a Riot’.

And Sean finally allowed himself to dream about what he could do with the money he’d taken. The money that had belonged to the dead man.

Chapter Six

WHEN FRY FINALLY got back to her body on Longstone Moor, she found her DI, Paul Hitchens, waiting for her. He hadn’t even bothered walking all the way to the scene, but was leaning against a car at the rendezvous point.

‘Death verified, Diane?’ he said.

‘The paramedics were here first. The ME has confirmed.’

‘Life pronounced extinct, as the old boys used to say.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Fry knew that police officers weren’t officially trusted to verify death. Not unless death was obvious. Since procedures failed to define ‘obviously dead’, it generally meant decapitation or an advanced stage of decomposition before any officer could exercise judgement.

‘Cause of death?’ asked Hitchens.

Fry shook her head. ‘There’s an obvious head injury. But we’ll have to wait for the preliminary PM report.’

‘It could have been a fall, though? Wet grass, plenty of stones lying around. Or a slippery cow pat – I’ve done it myself. What did he have on his feet? Appropriate footwear?’

‘No, sir,’ admitted Fry.

‘And the emergency call – that could have been some passerby not wanting to get involved. It happens all the time.’

‘In the town, maybe. But out here? It’s difficult to imagine a passer-by up at those old huts, anyway.’

‘The owner of the phone that the call was made on – he’s from out of the area, right?’

‘Yes. We’ll track him down, of course.’

‘So have we really got suspicious circumstances here, Diane?’

She hesitated. The expense of calling in a Home Office pathologist was only justified when there was substantial evidence of suspicious circumstances, the proverbial foul play. The DI wouldn’t want to get caught out trying to justify the expense in the face of an ‘accidental death’ verdict by the High Peak coroner.