Dead And Buried

‘Yes, we could certainly do that.’

‘We need to give forensics a kick up the backside to get some results from the Pearsons’ clothing and possessions.’

‘You’ve got it.’

‘Also, I want a new search of those abandoned mine shafts.’

‘It was done before,’ said Mackenzie.

‘I know.’

‘So what’s your reasoning, Diane?’

‘My reasoning? Well, where’s the best place to hide something so that it won’t be found?’

‘It depends on the circumstances, doesn’t it?’

‘In general terms.’

Mackenzie shook his head. ‘I still don’t know.’

‘The best place to hide something,’ said Fry, ‘is where it’s already been looked for.’

‘Okay. But how does all this progress the Aidan Merritt murder inquiry? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be concentrating your efforts on?’

Fry had to acknowledge that was true. It was the way she’d wanted it from the beginning, the fresh case coming to the Major Crime Unit, the rehashing of the older Pearson inquiry being left to local CID.

But she felt differently now. For reasons she couldn’t quite articulate to herself, or would want to explain to Mackenzie, things had changed. She felt as though she’d been issued with a challenge, and she was going to meet it.

‘If we can get to the bottom of the Pearsons’ disappearance, then the reasons for the death of Aidan Merritt will resolve themselves,’ she said.

‘The two are so closely connected?’ said Mackenzie. ‘Is that what you believe?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘You have my support, then. We’ll get a new search started straight away.’

Fry nodded. Her brain was immediately ticking over, planning where to go to get the next bit of information that she needed — and wondering whether she could get there before anyone else did.

With exaggerated caution, Betty Wheatcroft looked right and left before letting Cooper in to her house.

‘Is there a problem?’ she whispered.

‘Just something I didn’t ask you before,’ said Cooper.

‘You’d better come in, then.’

She sat Cooper down in her sitting room and automatically began to make tea.

‘Yes, Aidan did used to come and see me,’ she said from the kitchen. ‘He called in after school sometimes, particularly if he’d had a bad day. I think there were a lot of bad days recently.’

‘Difficulties at home, in his private life?’

‘I don’t think so. At school, I’d say. Teachers get like that sometimes.’

‘Why did he become a teacher in the first place, then?’

‘Good question. Aidan once said to me that he couldn’t think of any meaningful way to fill the terrible yawning void that stretched in front of him until the day of his death. So he became a teacher instead.’ She looked at Cooper as she came back into the room. ‘I think he was joking.’

‘He had problems at work, then?’

She set a cup of tea in front of him. ‘Aidan was soft. Too soft. Some of the older children must have made mincemeat of him in class. He was always worried about doing the right thing, you see.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ said Cooper.

Mrs Wheatcroft narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. ‘Oh, but it might not be the same as what you think of as the right thing. I’m not talking about automatically punishing people because they’ve broken some law. That isn’t always what some of us would call justice. Not my version of justice, and not Aidan’s either.’

Cooper nodded, though it wasn’t in agreement, just an acknowledgement of what she’d said. He understood that position. Or at least he thought he did.

‘Are you thinking I’m a daft old woman?’ asked Mrs Wheatcroft. ‘I know I get confused, and my memory isn’t as good as it used to be. But I know what I believe in.’

A light dawned on Cooper. ‘Have you been in trouble with the police yourself at some time?’

‘Yes, I was arrested once,’ she said with a proud smile.

Looking at her now, it was difficult to imagine.

‘What for?’

‘I was at Greenham Common.’

‘Ah.’

‘I was part of the women’s peace camp in the eighties. The cruise missile protest.’

‘I remember. Well, I say ‘remember”; I was quite young then.’

‘December 1983, it was. Difficult to think it’s nearly thirty years ago. Fifty thousand of us joined hands and made a circle round the nuclear missile base. We cut through the fences, and some of us got arrested. I was at Yellow Gate.’

‘Interesting times.’

‘Interesting? You can’t imagine the living conditions. We were outside in all kinds of weather. Cold, snow, rain, with no electricity and no running water. Frequent evictions, attacks by vigilantes. But we gave up comfort for commitment. We stopped nuclear convoys, disrupted their training exercises. Though it was non-violent direct action, a lot of women were arrested, taken to court and even sent to prison.’

‘What about you? You didn’t go to prison, did you?’

‘No. I just got a fine and a ticking-off. I didn’t take much notice. None of us did.’

Cooper drank some of his tea. It was horrible, and the milk tasted slightly off. But you had to be polite.

‘We still haven’t found any clue as to why Aidan Merritt was at the Light House on the day he was killed,’ he said.

‘I’m sorry. I wish I could help.’