Dead And Buried

A few months ago, Cooper and some of his colleagues from E Division had travelled into Staffordshire to view a brand-new custody suite. A main desk like the Starship Enterprise, a phone connection from each cell to the desk, cells steam-cleaned every five weeks. Washbasins, no graffiti. It encouraged personal hygiene, reduced work and minimised risks for staff. They could put legal calls through to the cells.

‘Gavin, we need to do the interview as soon as possible,’ said Cooper.

Murfin nodded. ‘Okay. I’ll have a word with Custard.’

Villiers watched him go. ‘I hesitate to ask, but … Custard?’

‘The custody sergeant.’

‘Oh, obviously.’

Vince Naylor had been drinking when he was pulled in. Stale beer seemed to leak out of his skin in place of sweat. He was a big man, bigger than Gullick, and it took three officers to escort him to the custody desk.

As soon as he was inside, he began to swear and shout. He became frustrated at the way the custody officers ignored him and went calmly about their job taking fingerprints and obtaining a DNA sample.

‘What do I have to say to get a response out of you bastards?’ he shouted.

‘We’re trained not to react to insulting or abusive words and behaviour,’ said the custody sergeant calmly.

‘Well fuck you then!’

‘Cell Four.’

‘I know you,’ said Ian Gullick half an hour later, sitting across the table in Interview Room One. ‘Cooper, right? I know you. And your brother.’

‘That could be so.’

He laughed. ‘Yes, I know you all right.’

Gullick’s face was unnaturally flushed, and his eyes bulged slightly, as if he was permanently struggling under some intolerable pressure. He looked like a man unable to escape from the murderer’s hands round his throat.

Cooper exchanged a glance with Carol Villiers, who was sitting alongside him with the tapes running. He tried to put some reassurance into the glance.

‘We’re here to talk about Aidan Merritt,’ he said.

‘Oh, Aidan.’ Gullick sniffed. ‘He was always a bit too clever for his own good, Aidan. Read books and things. He thought it made him better than the rest of us. Look how that turned out.’

‘Mr Merritt is dead.’

‘Exactly.’

‘You knew him well, didn’t you?’

‘We were at school together. Didn’t have many interests in common, though. Aidan carried on into the sixth form, did his A levels and all that stuff. He even went to college, I think.’

‘So you went your separate ways.’

‘Sort of. But, you know, he never moved out of the area. We all thought he’d head off for London. Get away from the rest of us soon as he could. Lots of folk have done it before him, when they got a bit of an education.’

‘But he didn’t do that?’

‘Not Aidan. I don’t know why, but he stayed. Got himself a job in Edendale and stuck around. So we bumped into each other quite a lot. You know what it’s like — you can’t exactly avoid people for long in a place like this, can you?’

‘He drank at the Light House, didn’t he?’ said Cooper.

‘Yeah, that’s right. Sometimes.’

‘You must have talked to him when you saw him in there.’

‘We passed the time of day. I mean, what do you think? We weren’t exactly bosom buddies, though. To be honest, he came over as being a bit weird.’

‘Because he read books?’

‘That and other stuff.’

‘He was a teacher, though. You might expect a teacher to be familiar with a few books. That’s what he was interested in, teaching English.’

‘Yeah, right. They do say it was something else he was interested in.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, what else do you get in schools other than books? Children.’

Cooper regarded him coolly. ‘There have never been any allegations against Mr Merritt that I’m aware of.’

Gullick shrugged. ‘I’m only telling you what people say.’

‘That sort of thing is just pub gossip,’ said Cooper. ‘Because he didn’t fit in with your group, he has to be some kind of pervert. What was the problem? He didn’t like playing pool? He didn’t want to get drunk like the rest of you?’

‘He was odd. That’s all I’m saying.’

Cooper took a breath, trying to resist the impulse to defend someone he’d never even known. It would only take the interview in the wrong direction.

Villiers stepped in, picking up her cue from his pause.

‘What sort of relationship did Mr Merritt have with Maurice Wharton?’ she asked.

Gullick swivelled his eyes towards her. Cooper noted with interest that their suspect seemed much more wary of Carol Villiers than of Cooper himself. The threat of the unfamiliar?

‘Maurice had a go at him a couple of times for not drinking enough beer. Said Aidan wasn’t contributing to the profits.’

‘What?’

‘That was normal for Mad Maurice. But his heart wasn’t in it with Aidan. He counted as a regular, you see. So he was accepted.’

‘Why would Mr Merritt have been at the Light House on the day he was killed?’

‘I don’t know what Aidan was up to. He was a real dark horse, you know. A complete mystery to the rest of us. His brain worked differently somehow.’

‘What do you think happened to the Pearsons?’