Dead And Buried

It was an unworthy speculation, and Cooper suppressed it. Of the two of them, Liz was the one who had her priorities right. While he was obsessing about details, and looking at the marks in the dust where an old freezer had once stood, she was thinking about their future together. Of course he knew which of them was right. It was why he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Liz would keep him grounded and sane. Without her, he would be lost. His future would have no shape or meaning. It didn’t bear thinking about.

‘And I looked at some menus,’ she said, speaking a little more quietly as she heard voices in the entrance. ‘I’ve got some ideas. We can talk about them tonight.’

‘All right. Over dinner somewhere?’

She laughed. ‘Dinner? Are you trying to placate me for standing me up last night?’

‘Of course not. But if we’re going to be talking about food …’

Liz touched his arm as footsteps approached the bar. ‘I’ll see you tonight. Are you going to book a table?’

‘I won’t forget.’

Cooper thought he’d better make a note of it, before it slipped his mind. But a voice called to him from the doorway, as someone stood back to let Liz get past on her way to the stairs.

‘Hello!’

‘Hi. Is that Josh?’

‘Yes.’

‘Come this way. Just stay clear of the taped-off areas.’

‘Your colleague outside gave me instructions,’ said Lane.

‘That would be DC Villiers.’

Lane was casually dressed in denims and a grey sweatshirt. He must change into his working clothes when he got to the hotel. The casual gear didn’t suit him actually — he was a little too middle-aged to carry off the jeans. But his hair was already groomed, the discreet piercing in place, his smile affable. Despite his clothes, he was ready to be of service. If only everyone was so cooperative.

It was odd seeing Josh here — it felt a bit like the way Cooper had failed to recognise Roddy when he was on the wrong side of the bar at the Hanging Gate.

‘What do you want me to look at?’ asked Lane.

Cooper pointed at the open hatchway behind the bar. ‘I’d like you to show me around down here.’

‘In the cellar?’

‘You’re not afraid of cellars, are you?’ asked Cooper.

‘No, why?’

‘I thought you sounded a bit nervous.’

‘I’ve spent half my life in cellars.’

A moment later, Lane stood with him at the bottom of the steps and looked around the cellar. He examined the tangle of beer lines, the equipment lying around, the row of empty kegs. He reached out a hand to pick up the wooden mallet, then changed his mind, perhaps remembering that it was a crime scene. He shook his head over the stainless-steel buckets, the hosepipe and the piles of filter funnels.

‘Most of this will have to come out,’ he said. ‘It’s been standing too long. The new owners will have to scrap it and do a major clear-out before they can reopen.’

‘We’ll need to spend quite a bit of time here before they can do anything with it, I’m afraid,’ said Cooper.

Lane bent over a pile of beer taps, and made a disgusted expression at the smell.

‘Why?’ he said. ‘What is going on exactly? You didn’t explain anything to me before. I mean, I’m glad to help, if I can, but …?’

‘I can’t really tell you much at the moment,’ said Cooper.

Lane shrugged. ‘Story of my life.’

‘I’m truly sorry. I know that sounds pompous, but we’re right in the middle of a major inquiry here.’

‘Is it about the tourist couple, the Pearsons? Can you tell me that, at least?’

‘Yes, I don’t suppose that’s much of a secret.’

‘Not around Edendale.’

The lighting in the cellar consisted of fluorescent tubes. They cast a harsh light, and Cooper could hear a faint whine as if one of them was wearing out and getting close to needing replacement. It was a high-pitched noise, like a mosquito, and it would start to bother him if he had to spend much time down here.

‘Josh, can you remember what used to be down here?’ he said. ‘I mean, anything that isn’t here now?’

‘I don’t know. There was an awful lot of junk,’ said Lane. ‘Old Maurice got a bit slack in his last couple of years.’

‘Slack?’

‘He used to run a tight ship at one time, but gradually standards slipped. The cellar is a place you put things so they’re out of the way.’

‘A dumping ground,’ said Cooper, consciously echoing the phrase used by Roddy.

‘Exactly. A dumping ground.’

Cooper indicated the clean area on the floor. It was surrounded now by Liz Petty’s evidence markers, the wall scattered with white dust.

‘For example, what used to stand here?’ he said.

Lane stared at the markers, and seemed at a loss for an answer. Cooper was disappointed. But he couldn’t complain, really — he knew how unreliable memory could be, especially when the context was wrong.

‘A freezer, perhaps?’ he suggested.

‘A freezer? Yes — I think you’re right. A freezer.’

‘Just one?’

Lane hesitated, still reluctant to commit himself. ‘Well, I think there might have been two. Old freezers. They weren’t used for the kitchen. There’s a full-sized commercial freezer upstairs.’

‘Do you happen to know when they were taken out?’

‘No idea.’

‘That’s all right.’