‘Did Gary and Sandra have to leave Bowden after that?’

‘Oh, they knew they were going to have to leave,’ said Mrs Mellor. ‘They were told they wouldn’t be able to take over the tenancy of the cottage after Gary’s mother died. That was the biggest blow. I think that was what finished Gary off.’

Cooper brushed some crumbs from the table on to the now empty plate.

‘Mrs Mellor,’ he said, ‘how did Gary Blair die?’

‘You don’t know?’ she said, turning to Cooper. She looked at him as if he were the only one here who was ignorant.

‘I’m afraid you’re going to say that he took his own life,’ he said.

Mrs Mellor nodded. ‘Yes, he killed himself. He just couldn’t take it. It’s such a shame about that family.’

Outside Mrs Mellor’s cottage Fry stopped to ask a question.

‘Why do they need so many houses here,’ she said, ‘if they’re for workers at Knowle Abbey?’

‘Believe it or not, there are about three hundred people employed on the estate in various ways,’ said Cooper.

‘You’re joking. Doing what?’

‘They’re either in the abbey, working on maintenance and looking after the visitors, or they’re in the gardens, the restaurant, the shop. They’re on the farms, in the woodland, looking after the fisheries and game, or working in the offices. And probably lots of jobs I haven’t thought of.’

Cooper stood on the central green and looked around at the houses of Bowden. The Manby emblem was set into the gable end of the cottages and the larger properties featured stone carvings of the crest above their front doors.

Like the Devonshires, the Manbys had owned many of the local villages in their time. Their name wasn’t as ubiquitous, but it was certainly here at Bowden. It was on the church, the community hall and some of their workers’ properties. And so was their emblem. It was a profile turned to the right, with a hooked beak like a scimitar. An eagle’s head.

‘Where to next?’ asked Fry.

‘I think it’s time to go visiting the aristocracy,’ said Cooper.

16

Local people would tell you that Knowle Abbey had never actually been an abbey. Well, so far as anyone was aware – not in the sense that it had housed monks or nuns, ruled over by an abbot. It had always been the home of the Manby family and that was the end of the story.

But Cooper knew from that visit with his mother that the history books said differently. Knowle had originally been the site of a Cistercian abbey. But when the Dissolution of the Monasteries came along, the abbot and his monks had been pensioned off and their abbey confiscated by the state.

In fact, when it first became a country residence, this had been as a home for the Vaudrey family, a declining branch of an old Norman line who’d lost most of their lands by picking the wrong side in a rebellion. A dilapidated Knowle Abbey had later passed to the Manbys by marriage. Unlike the Vaudreys, the first Earl Manby was a new aristocrat on the rise and his descendants had become powerful and wealthy. They’d built the present house some time in the eighteenth century, adding to it in various ways over the years according to the whims of successive earls.

Cooper had called into his office at West Street and found DC Carol Villiers on duty. She wasn’t very surprised to hear from him. Carol was quite used to his ways by now. They’d known each other since they were children, after all. Since she’d left the RAF Police and been recruited into Derbyshire Constabulary. It had made a refreshing change for Cooper to have someone on his team in CID who actually understood him.

‘Carol, can you check if there have been any incidents reported recently at Knowle Abbey, or anywhere on the estate. Anything involving the Manby family or their staff. I’ve a feeling there was something a while ago.’

‘You mean the Manby family?’ said Villiers. ‘The earl himself?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘Of course, Ben. No problem.’

Then Cooper phoned ahead to the estate office at Knowle, and was assured that someone would meet him at the abbey.

‘You don’t need to come along,’ he said to Fry.

She shrugged. ‘What else would I do?’

Cooper thought of mentioning that she was supposed to be moving to a new flat this weekend, but it might not be the right subject to raise when he’d abandoned her so suddenly last night.

They drove down into the landscaped parkland that occupied the fertile valley of the River Dove and extended well up into the lower slopes of the hills on either side. For several minutes they seemed to be passing along a perimeter wall around the estate. Dense plantations of trees covered much of the landscape.

‘Are there wild animals in these woods?’ asked Fry.

‘Bound to be.’

‘There’ll be badgers, I suppose?’

‘What?’

‘Badgers. They spread TB.’

Cooper shook his head. ‘Only to cattle, Diane. You’re perfectly safe.’

Badgers were a difficult subject at Bridge End Farm. Matt was likely to explode if anyone mentioned them as being cute, cuddly animals. Unlike the situation in other parts of the country, Derbyshire County Council had banned a badger cull in the county, despite incidents of TB being reported among local cattle. So it was quite likely that somewhere on the Knowle Abbey estate, the badgers would be below ground, waiting for the night.

Further on the abbey itself came into view. From this angle it seemed to be an almost random collection of porticos, balconies, windows and castellated extensions. Its size was impressive, but its architectural design would never have won any awards.

Villiers called Cooper back just as he was driving through the ornate front gates of the abbey.

‘Hi, Carol.’

‘Yes, Ben, you were right. Nothing too serious, but there have been some reports of threats and vandalism. An intruder reported one day in the grounds, that sort of thing.’

‘Threats? Against who?’

‘General abuse, most of it. Though the earl’s name was mentioned, of course. They had some obscene graffiti. There was even an anonymous letter, which is a rather old-fashioned way of doing it. Most people like to write their threats and abuse on Twitter or Facebook these days.’

‘Most young people,’ said Cooper.

‘That’s a point. But wouldn’t you think—’

‘What?’

‘Well, the average middle-aged Derbyshire resident doesn’t resort to writing threats and abuse to people they don’t know.’

‘I suppose it depends whether they have a reason,’ said Cooper.

He followed direction signs to the estate office. Just inside the park they passed a walled topiary garden, with hedges clipped into the shape of an eagle’s head. The Manby family emblem.

The estate offices at Knowle Abbey were housed in part of the old coach house block, next door to the restaurant and craft centre. They were met by a young woman with short red hair and a brisk manner. She was wearing a navy-blue body warmer with her name on a badge. Meredith Burns described herself as an assistant estate manager.

‘Thank you for coming along. You must know about our unfortunate incidents,’ she said.

‘I’m sure your neighbourhood policing team has been to speak to you,’ said Cooper.

‘Yes, they have. But we didn’t expect too much to come from it, to be honest. Not a visit from a detective sergeant anyway.’ She looked at Diane Fry. ‘Or two, in fact?’

‘Yes,’ said Fry.

‘How unusual.’

Cooper could sense an instant animosity developing between Fry and Meredith Burns. It was something that seemed to happen when Diane Fry was involved. She must give off some specific pheromone that he couldn’t detect.

‘I believe you received an anonymous letter,’ said Cooper.

‘Yes, about three weeks ago. We didn’t really think anything of it, until the vandalism.’

‘Oh, yes. Can you show us?’