Blind to the Bones (37 page)

‘Completely?'

‘Well, they're still functioning on some basic level. But they've lost touch with reality. They're delusional. They could end up being a danger to themselves.'

‘According to the Traffic crew who picked them up, that's exactly what they were doing at the underpass. Being a danger to themselves.'

‘Well, yeah. And all these little rituals they go through – it seems to me that they're all designed to bolster the Renshaws' conviction that their daughter will come home some day. Mrs Renshaw said it herself – “you have to believe”, she said. I think they're terrified that they'll start having doubts. And once they start to have doubts, that's when they'll fall apart. The Renshaws will just crumble if their delusions are ever shattered.'

‘How fragile are those delusions?'

‘At the moment, they seem to be feeding off each others' belief. But, of course, if Emma Renshaw's body is ever found …'

‘It would bring them back to reality, surely?'

‘But it would also take away their last hope. The only thing that's keeping them going.'

‘I'm sure they've been offered counselling.'

‘Several times. They went through some sessions, but there was always a problem. The counsellor would talk to them about closure, about letting go. And the Renshaws can't understand that. How can they let go, they say, when Emma will be coming home soon?'

‘I think Emma's body will be found one day, don't you? The circumstances don't look like a voluntary disappearance.'

‘Maybe. But some victims are never found.'

Cooper shuddered. ‘How long can the Renshaws keep it up?'

‘I don't know,' said Fry. ‘And I don't want to be around to find out.'

‘No.'

‘What about the Oxleys? More down to earth, I hope?'

‘I sort of meant what I said at the Renshaws. My impression is that the Oxleys are synonymous with Withens. They could never live anywhere else. I mean, I can't imagine the Oxleys doing the opposite of what the Renshaws did, and moving from Withens to Marple.'

Fry thought about it. ‘I'm still not clear on the reasons the Renshaws had for moving.'

‘Because it was more
real
, man.'

‘That's just it – it sounds too, sort of, New Age for them. Too dreadlocks and dope, if you know what I mean. The Renshaws aren't old hippies, are they?'

‘I don't think so. But it's kind of difficult to tell with most of them, after all this time. Unless they've got ponytails and kaftans and they're running shops selling crystals and runes, they look pretty much like anyone else in their fifties. They grow out of it – outwardly anyway.'

‘Yeah. Outwardly.'

Cooper looked at her. ‘I know the Renshaws have turned a bit wacky with all this stuff about Emma, but I don't think they're actually sharing a spliff every time we're not looking.'

‘No.'

‘What are you thinking, Diane?'

‘I'm thinking it can be very dangerous when people believe every word that you tell them. Dangerous – or very convenient.'

T
hey drove into the car park in Withens. Fry switched off the engine, and they sat for a few minutes looking at the square stone houses, the tower of the church beyond the yew trees, and the background of black hills.

To Cooper, the hills seemed to have moved in a little closer every time he came here, making Withens a bit more claustrophobic, a bit more impermanent. What had Tracy Udall said? It didn't look like a place that would last. But surely it
had
lasted. The railway navvies' shanty town had been here in the middle of the nineteenth century, and the farms must already have existed long before that. So why did it feel so temporary?

Cooper wondered where exactly the shanty town had been. Where had fifteen hundred navvies lived in such appalling conditions? Was it here, where the village now stood? Or further down the road, past the church, among the banks of bracken and peat bogs?

‘You're meeting PC Udall here?' said Fry.

‘At the church.'

‘What's she like?'

‘She's very sound. Dedicated. Good at her job.'

‘Great. I think you ought to try harder on the Oxleys. I don't think you're wasting your time.'

‘You think if we dig hard enough, we'll find some connection with Emma Renshaw?'

‘Ben, if you can find what this blacked-up faces thing is all about, it would help.'

‘Neil Granger might just have been using it as a form of disguise, or camouflage at night. It's only theatrical make-up. Anyone could get hold of it, but if he had it lying around anyway for rehearsals for this dance group –'

‘Yeah, a dance group. What did the Renshaws say it was called?'

‘The Border Rats.'

‘Peculiar sort of a name.'

‘Granger was at a rehearsal the night before he was killed,' said Cooper. ‘Down at the village pub there – the Quiet Shepherd.'

‘Have you been there yet?'

‘No.'

The Yorkshire Traction bus came into the car park again and did its circuit. Today, there were three old ladies sitting on the bus. They gazed down at Cooper and Fry without curiosity. None of them made any move to get off, and the driver accelerated away again.

‘So,' said Fry. ‘What was your impression of the Renshaws?'

Cooper hesitated. ‘Howard,' he said. ‘What does he do? For a living, I mean?'

‘He's retired now. But he was Sales Director for a steel refractory in Sheffield. A very successful one, by all accounts.'

‘Yes, I can imagine.'

‘What do you mean, Ben?

‘It just seemed to me,' said Cooper, ‘that Howard Renshaw was trying to sell us something. And doing it very well.'

Fry sighed, but with a sense of relief. ‘That's what I think, too,' she said. ‘I was worried that I was being paranoid.'

B
en Cooper felt pleased that Diane Fry had valued his opinion enough to go to the trouble of getting him along to the Renshaws. As they sat in the car in Withens waiting for a shower to stop, he felt as though he had temporarily come closer to Fry than he had managed to be for a long time. It was a chance, perhaps, to talk to her properly – if the right moment came.

‘By the way, I have to go on a trip tomorrow,' said Fry.

‘Yes? Anywhere nice?'

‘The West Midlands. We have to interview Emma Renshaw's other housemate, Debbie Stark. And a girl called Khadi who she went to Italy with. No one seems to have bothered with her before. Then we have to call at Smethwick OCU to see the officer who dealt with the case two years ago. We might take a look at the house in Bearwood, too.'

‘Yeah,' said Cooper.

‘You don't sound too impressed. They're sound leads that need following up.'

‘I was just wondering – will you be all right?'

‘All right? I'll have Gavin Murfin with me, if that's what you're worried about. The only danger I'll be in will be from coming home smelling of curry.'

‘The Black Country, though,' said Cooper. ‘That's where you're from, isn't it?'

‘Of course it is. You know that.'

‘It's where you were living when you were stationed … When you decided you had to leave.'

‘Yes. This has nothing to do with you, Ben.'

‘Is Bearwood near where you lived as a child?'

‘Ben –'

‘You were living with foster parents there when your sister Angie left home.'

‘I could really regret ever having told you any of this. It isn't some kind of soap opera that I expect you to keep track of. It's just my life, that's all. And it's in the past now.'

‘Not entirely,' said Cooper.

‘What do you mean? I've barely even seen my foster parents since I moved from the West Midlands. I had a Christmas card from them last year, and they write occasionally. Apart from that, the rest of it is history. It's over. I've forgotten all about it.'

Cooper shook his head. ‘You haven't forgotten Angie.'

The windows of the car were starting to steam up. Maybe it had turned a bit colder outside since the shower started. Or maybe it was the fact that Cooper was starting to sweat. He felt like Daniel entering the lion's den.

‘You know, I definitely think I could regret ever telling you anything about my life.'

‘But you wouldn't give up on trying to find Angie, would you?'

‘Have you never noticed,' said Fry, ‘that the world is full of people who've given up trying, in one way or another?'

‘No, I hadn't noticed that.'

‘Well, take a look around. You can't miss them.'

‘It's only because I'm concerned about you, Diane.'

‘I don't need anybody to be concerned about me.'

‘I just –'

‘Ben, drop it.'

‘But –'

‘I don't ever want to hear you mention my sister again. Got it?'

Cooper stared out of the windscreen. He couldn't see much outside because of the condensation. But he knew that Withens was out there, waiting for him to have another go at getting into Waterloo Terrace.

‘Got it,' he said.

‘Now go and try the Oxleys again.'

‘Diane, you don't know what they're like.'

‘I'm sure you can get something out of them. Use your charm, Ben. Talk their language.'

‘For heaven's sake, Diane,
you
try – see how you get on!'

Fry leaned a little closer to him.

‘I don't have the charm,' she said. ‘Or so they tell me. And I certainly don't have the language. Not like you do, Ben.'

‘It doesn't work in this case,' said Cooper. ‘I don't get near enough to use the charm. They don't listen to me long enough for me to start speaking their language. So maybe I should start doing it
your
way.'

‘That
would
be a first.'

‘So what do you suggest?'

‘Well, I suppose we might need to try someone else with the Oxleys. Amazing as the idea seems, it's possible they just don't like you, Ben.'

‘Really? I thought you were in a minority of one there.'

Fry looked at him coldly, but didn't reply. Cooper could see the tired edges of her eyes and the tense lines around her mouth. He sighed.

‘I mean it, Diane. Trying to talk to the Oxleys is like drawing teeth. And I never had any ambitions to be a dentist.'

‘I know what you mean,' said Fry. ‘I couldn't imagine that job. All those people with decaying teeth. Some people should just keep their mouths firmly shut.'

Fry gathered the files together as Cooper got out of the car and walked across the road. He was glad of the cool air, and let out a deep breath that he had been holding.

Something odd and surprising had struck Cooper while Fry had been tearing him off a strip. While the Renshaws were convinced that their missing daughter was alive and well, and would be found very soon, Diane Fry might be living in the opposite fantasy. Despite the effort she was putting in to track down her sister, Cooper was beginning to get the feeling that deep down she actually believed that Angie was dead.

B
en Cooper met PC Tracy Udall outside St Asaph's church. Withens was starting to get him down, but he wasn't in a position to complain. Diane Fry had to enter the fantasy world of the Renshaws, and he didn't envy her. Yet his own role wasn't going to be simple, either. To pull apart the Oxley family, he had to get a chance of speaking to each member of the family separately. And that was easier said than done. The Oxleys seemed to cling together, and hardly wanted to let each other out of sight. It was an admirable closeness in a family. Or was it something else?

Perhaps it was time for a change of strategy. He'd tried to be friendly and polite, and it hadn't worked. It had been too much to hope that it would, with the Oxleys. A bit of subtlety was called for. An oblique approach, so that they didn't see him coming quite so easily.

Udall looked a bit tired today, too. Cooper wondered if her son had been causing her problems. For a moment, he was on the point of asking her, but it occurred to him that he didn't know whether Udall welcomed his interest in her private life any more than Diane Fry did.

A group of boys were hanging around near the bus stop again. Two of the lads were the fourteen- or fifteen-year-olds he had seen before, but now with Sheffield Wednesday football shorts over their jeans. The third was the smaller boy with close-cropped hair, but a distinct family resemblance.

Cooper thought he was at least starting to get an angle on the names now – the two teenagers he reckoned were Ryan and Sean, of which at least one was Lucas Oxley's son. The smaller one was undoubtedly Jake, the Tiny Terror.