One Last Breath. Stephen Booth

and the front door stood open. A safe pathway had been marked out by the scenes of crime officers, who he could see moving around inside the house in their white, hooded scene suits.

      ‘The body is in the kitchen, at the back of the house,’ said Fry.

      ‘Do we have an ID?’

      Fry checked her notebook. ‘The victim’s name is Rebecca Lowe, aged forty-nine. She lived alone. Her assailant seems to have gained access to the house via the back door, which leads into the utility room, next to the kitchen.’

      ‘An intruder? Was it a burglary gone wrong?’

      ‘We can’t tell at the moment. There’s no sign of a forced entry. The back door was unlocked when the victim’s sister arrived at the house.’

      ‘Who’s SIO?’

      ‘Mr Kessen, of course.’

      Cooper could see Detective Chief Inspector Oliver Kessen sitting in the back of the scenes of crime van, studying a video. Some senior investigating officers would want a clean sweep at this stage. In fact, one or two SIOs would pack up the entire room where the victim had died and send it back to the lab. They had a nagging fear that something would be missed at the crime scene. But DCI Kessen was said to be more focused. By watching the initial video of the scene, he’d be hoping to build up an early hypothesis, so that the number of forensic tests could be limited.

      They stood aside to let a group of officers go past, including a SOCO in a scene suit carrying an aluminium step ladder.

      ‘What’s the ladder for?’ asked Cooper.

      ‘To reach the kitchen ceiling.’

      ‘Sorry?’

      ‘The ceiling,’ said Fry. ‘Blood splatter on the ceiling. Wake up, Ben.’

      ‘Right.’

      A flutter of tape by the open front door marked the inner cordon preserving the scene itself. Contamination was the big fear, so everyone was being kept at arm’s length for now, including surplus detectives.

      ‘Blood splatter,’ said Cooper. ‘So what are we looking at as a weapon?’

      ‘Kitchen knife, probably.’

      ‘They’re much too handy.’

      ‘Apparently, Mrs Lowe had an entire block full of them,’ said Fry. ‘But now they’re scattered all over her kitchen floor.’

      Cooper watched the Crime Scene Manager enter the van to talk to Mr Kessen. As far as the forensic team were concerned, contamination was something that occurred only after the scene had been preserved. Before that, anything else that went on should have been ‘normal procedures’ – the desperate attempts to save an injured person’s life, the anxious search for the body of another victim or for a violent assailant who might still be on the premises. Normal procedures.

      He turned to Fry again.

      ‘When did we get the call-out?’

      ‘Eleven thirty-eight.’

      ‘I was long since out of Peak Cavern by then. You should have got through to me.’

      ‘No, it was earlier that I tried to phone you.’

      ‘Earlier? But –’

      ‘Not now, Ben.’

      And then she was away, striding across the edge of the garden towards a bustle of activity around the crime scene van. Cooper watched her, puzzled. But then, he was always puzzled by Diane Fry.

      DC Gavin Murfin appeared at Cooper’s elbow. A faint aroma of warm pastry drifted from Murfin’s clothes, and Cooper imagined the pockets of his coat stuffed with pies. Or perhaps the smell was simply impregnated into the fabric by now. No wonder Murfin was hungry all the time. There was no scent better guaranteed to make the saliva run.

      Murfin nudged Cooper and nodded his head at Fry as she reached the van and was immediately in conference with some of the senior officers.

      ‘Hey, Ben, is it true what they’re saying – her sister’s moved in with her?’

      ‘Who’s saying that, Gavin?’

      Murfin shrugged. ‘Everybody. You know what it’s like.’

      ‘I don’t understand how anyone can possibly know that. Diane doesn’t talk about her private life at all.’

      ‘Except to you, maybe,’ said Murfin, raising an eyebrow. ‘Or so they say.’

      Cooper shuffled uneasily but said nothing.

      ‘In fact, I heard that the sister turning up was no coincidence,’ said Murfin. ‘They say you had a bit of a hand in it – arranged the meeting and everything, behind Miss’s back. Can’t be true, can it?’

      ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. It’s a bit of a long story, though. And a bit, well … complicated.’

      ‘I don’t doubt it.’

      ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you any more, Gavin. It’s personal. For Diane, I mean.’

      ‘No, no. Do spare me the sordid details. But what I don’t understand, Ben, is why you got involved in the first place. I mean, it’s a bit like poking a bad-tempered grizzly bear with a sharp stick, if you ask me.’

      ‘I don’t know,’ said Cooper. ‘It seemed the right thing to do at the time.’

      ‘Famous last words, mate. You’ll be uttering them as they cart your body away to the mortuary.’

      ‘It’s too late now, anyway.’

      ‘Mmm? If it were me, I’d be making sure I got a transfer damn quick, before Miss decides how she’s going to get her revenge. Preferably somewhere far away. I believe the Shetland Islands can be nice. They even get a bit of daylight at this time of year.’

      Cooper sighed. Why had he got involved? It was the question he’d been asking himself for weeks. But if he could go back and have the time again, would he do things differently? He supposed he ought to have turned Angie Fry away the night she turned up on his doorstep. But Diane had wanted to find her sister, hadn’t she? How could he have sent Angie away, knowing that? Somewhere along the route he’d followed, there might have been a moment when he could have found a better, more sensible thing to do. But there was no guarantee he’d have taken the chance just because it was the sensible thing.

      ‘Anyway, what do you reckon about this job?’ said Murfin, indicating Parson’s Croft with a more vigorous nod of his head. ‘Any overtime in it for us? Only, my credit-card bill is up to its limit this month. I’ll be paying off that holiday in Turkey for the next ten years.’

      ‘I don’t know,’ said Cooper. ‘We’ll have to wait and see what they come up with from the video recording.’

      ‘No doubt Miss will have her own ideas.’

      ‘She’s right a lot of the time,’ said Cooper.

      Murfin looked at him suspiciously.

      ‘Ben, you don’t actually like her, do you?’

      ‘Well … no.’

      ‘Are you sure?’

      ‘Not exactly.’

      ‘I knew it! What on earth do you find to like about her?’

      ‘Gavin, I haven’t said that I do.’

      ‘I can tell when somebody is avoiding the question, you know. I’ve watched Jeremy Paxman in action. So, answer the question, Minister. What do you like about her?’

      ‘Look, I just think Diane Fry is a bit misunderstood by most people around here.’

      ‘Oh, my God.’ Murfin raised his eyes to the sky in horror. ‘You’re not going to