‘Did you take the dog?'

‘Jess was with me. But Kenny makes you put the dogs out the back when you're in the pub. He says they upset the tourists.’

Cooper wondered whether Harry would get round to asking him the purpose of the questions. He decided he wouldn't.

‘We have a witness who saw someone answering your description at about seven-fifteen, in the area where Laura Vernon's body was found.' The description had been vague enough, so he wasn't actually being misleading.

‘Have you now?' said Harry. 'That's handy then. That'll help you no end.'

‘But you've just told me that you were back here in the house at about six-thirty, Mr Dickinson. Is that right?' Aye, that's right. My tea was ready.’

And you said you didn't go out again until seven-thirty. So, according to you, you were here in the house at seven-fifteen. Is that right?'

‘Yes.'

‘You can't have been in both places at once.' Harry shrugged. 'That's your problem, I reckon.’

‘What about Sunday?' asked Cooper, desperate for a change in the conversation.

‘What about it?'

‘Did you go out on the Baulk with your dog that day?'

‘Nine o'clock in the morning and six o'clock at night. Regular.'

‘On the same path? To Raven's Side?'

‘Yes.'

‘And on Monday morning the same?'

‘Nine o'clock.'

‘It's a bit odd then, isn't it, that you didn't find that trainer before Monday night? When you had already made four visits to the area. One about the time Laura Vernon was killed, and three afterwards. Without seeing a thing?’

Harry tapped his pipe into the fireplace, stared at the empty grate, and looked up at Cooper. He narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. Cooper thought he was in for another uncomfortable spell of silence.

‘I was going to talk to Vernon,' said Harry suddenly.

‘What?' Cooper was taken by surprise, both at the information and the fact that Harry had actually volunteered it without having to have it dragged out of him with red-hot pincers.

‘On Saturday night. I thought I saw Graham Vernon while I was out with Jess. I was going to talk to him.’

‘Why was that, sir?'

‘I had something I wanted to discuss with him. Personal.'

‘What about?'

‘Personal.'

‘How well do you know Mr Vernon?'

‘I don't. I've never met him.'

‘So why did you want to speak to him?'

‘I've said it twice. I'm not intending to say it again.'

‘I could insist, Mr Dickinson. I could ask you down to the station to help with enquiries, and we'll conduct a formal interview and ask you to make another statement.'

‘I'm making a statement,' said Harry. 'It was personal. That's a statement.'

‘But you do see that if it was anything to do with Mr Vernon's daughter —'

‘I can tell you that. It wasn't.'

‘To do with your own family perhaps?’

Harry smiled benevolently, as if at a clever student. 'Happen so, lad.'

‘Where did you meet Mr Vernon?’

Assumptions again.'

‘Sorry?'

‘I said I wanted to talk to him. But I couldn't find him. He'd disappeared again.’

Cooper's mind was setting off on a different track now. He saw Harry Dickinson out wandering on the Baulk at the same time as both Laura Vernon and her father, not to mention whoever had killed Laura. And he pictured the bird-watcher, Gary Edwards, who had been in a wonderful vantage point, but had only seen one of them. And then he realized that, if Harry had met Graham Vernon while he was out, then their conversation would surely have meant that Harry would have been later back at the cottage than usual. But would it have kept him out until after seven-fifteen? Gwen would have to be lying too. But then she would, wouldn't she, to protect Harry?

‘Next question then,' said Harry.

Cooper decided he was getting into deep water. 'No more questions for now, Mr Dickinson.'

‘No?' Harry looked suddenly disappointed. He pursed his lips and cocked his head on one side. 'That's a poor do. I was hoping for a proper grilling. An interrogation. You know, like Cracker.'

‘Sorry?'

‘That fat bloke that used to be on the telly.'

‘Robbie Coltrane, you mean. He played a criminal psychologist.’

Aye. He always used to give 'em a proper grilling. Shouting and swearing at 'em and all. Threatening to thump 'em if they didn't tell the truth.' Harry squinted at Cooper critically. 'Aye well. You're not him, though. Are you, lad?'

‘No, Mr Dickinson, I'm not Cracker. I'm not Inspector Morse either.’

Cooper got up to go, shoving his notebook in his pocket. 'Somebody will want to talk to you again, probably, Mr Dickinson.'

‘Fair enough. You'll no doubt find me without any trouble.'

‘Thanks for your time then.’

Cooper reached the door and looked out at the village, struck by the contrast between the bright sunlight hitting the street and the cool, shady corners and heavy furniture of the room behind him. Passing through the door of Dial Cottage was like stepping out of the entrance to a deep cave. In ancestral memory, caves must have represented security. But there was always danger too. There was always the possibility that a dangerous wild beast might be lurking in that cave. Cooper turned to say goodbye to the old man and found the sharp blue eyes fixed mockingly on his face.

‘No. And you're not even Miss Marple,' said Harry.

17

DCI Tailby's office was one of the few rooms in the Edendale Divisional HQ with air conditioning. In the past couple of weeks, there had been a lot of excuses for meetings that had to take place in the DCI's office and nowhere else. Ben Cooper, though, was sure his visit that afternoon was justified by something besides the unbearable temperature.

‘Very interesting,' said Tailby when he had finished summarizing his interviews at Dial Cottage. 'But do you feel you pressed him hard enough, Cooper?’

Cooper remembered what he had said during the morning meeting, and wondered if the DCI was making fun of him. He was glad he had decided not to mention any of what had taken place at Thorpe Farm before he had managed to get Harry into the car.

‘He's a bit of an awkward character, sir.'

‘I know. Perhaps we'll have to bring him in and interview him under caution. That would upset his apple cart, eh?'

‘Possibly.'

‘So what do you make of it, Cooper? Do you believe him?'

‘Well, yes, sir, funnily enough.'

‘Mmm?'

‘Well, I believe what he said, because of the things that he didn't say, if you follow me.'

‘I don't think I do, Cooper.'

‘Well, it seems to me that he neatly avoided telling a lie. Where there were things he didn't want to tell me, he just avoided it. Because of that, I think everything he said was true. I think it's probably against his principles to lie.’

Are there still people around like that? I may be a cynical old detective chief inspector, but I thought that idea went out with George Washington.'

‘It's old-fashioned, I know, but there are still people round here who were brought up like that. My feeling is that Harry Dickinson is one of them. That's a good reason why he says no more than necessary. The less you say, the less temptation there is to lie.'

‘Tell the truth or say nowt.'

‘That's it, sir. Exactly.'

‘That's what my old shift sergeant told me many years ago when I was a new recruit,' said Tailby. 'But it was a long time ago. Things change, Cooper.'

‘Not everything changes, sir. With respect.’

Tailby ran a hand vigorously through his hair, as if trying to mix the grey at the front with the darker hair at the back to create something that looked less like a session with the Grecian 2000 that had gone badly wrong. His face was even gaunter than usual, and he looked tired.