‘What about the man? What was he like?’
‘Medium height. Sandy hair. He seemed nice.’
Sam Elliot. So neither Guy nor Clayton Henry had been at Dan’s funeral. So much for the whole department being heartbroken. And despite Clayton’s claim that Dan ‘didn’t have an enemy in the world’, the police think that someone murdered him. She decides not to say any of this to Caz.
‘That’s looks delicious,’ she says. ‘Can I do anything to help?’
*
Sandy McLeod and Harry Nelson are together again. They are Starsky and Hutch, Bodie and Doyle, the Sweeney, the good-looking ones from The Bill. Or rather, they are two middle-aged men driving too fast in a Ford Mondeo. When Sandy asked Nelson if he’d like to go with him to interview Professor Henry from the university, Nelson had jumped at the chance. He wanted to find out what happened to Ruth’s friend and he liked the thought of spending some time with Sandy, but more than anything, he was desperate to get away from Maureen.
‘Asking you to work in your holiday,’ said Maureen. ‘What a cheek.’
‘All part of the job,’ said Nelson, waiting by the door so that he could be away as soon as Sandy drew up outside. The last thing he wanted was for Maureen to lure him in for a cup of tea.
‘You’ll miss our trip to the Trough of Bowland.’
‘I know. I’m that disappointed.’
Michelle looked sceptically at her husband. She had heard him on the phone to Sandy and the word ‘disappointed’ hadn’t come up once.
Now Sandy and Nelson are bowling along the A583 to Kirkham. Nelson approves of Sandy’s driving style. So many young PCs these days have done advanced driving courses and drive like old ladies in hats but Sandy has a fine disregard for speed limits. ‘There’s not a traffic cop in the area would dare pull me in,’ he boasts. Nelson would like to say the same but he’s afraid that the uniforms (like the WPCs) are not as amenable in Norfolk. He is starting to wish that he’d stayed in Blackpool and become a fully fledged rule-breaking chauvinist. The move south has emasculated him.
‘Who’s this bloke we’re going to see?’ he asks as they bounce merrily over a mini roundabout.
‘Head of the history department at the university,’ says Sandy. ‘He was Dan Golding’s boss. He ought to know if there was any funny business going on. Mind you, most of these academic types are on a bloody different planet half the time.’
Nelson thinks of Ruth Galloway, who is definitely an ‘academic type’. Is she on a different planet? It’s true that sometimes their priorities don’t coincide – Ruth has, for example, signed Katie up with a library but hasn’t yet even thought about schools – but, for the most part, Ruth is definitely of this world. What’s more annoying, she’s currently in his part of the world. What the hell is she doing in Lytham? She knows that Dan’s death is being treated as suspicious, how dare she bring Katie anywhere near a murder enquiry? He fumes silently, watching the countryside fly past.
The windmill takes them both by surprise.
‘Bloody hell,’ says Sandy, as they screech to a halt on the gravelled drive. ‘Does he actually live in this thing?’
‘It’s like something from a crazy golf course,’ says Nelson, who played this particular game yesterday with his older sister Grainne and her family.
‘Must be worth a pretty packet,’ says Sandy. ‘How much do these lecturers earn?’
‘Not much,’ says Nelson, thinking of Ruth and her poky cottage on the edge of nowhere. ‘He must be a closet pop star or something.’
But Clayton Henry, who comes bustling bare-footed across the paved courtyard to greet them, doesn’t look like a pop star. True, he is wearing a top which instantly makes Nelson categorise him as ‘eccentric, possibly gay’, but he is also overweight and slightly anxious, rubbing his hands together and laughing loudly at Sandy’s windmill jokes.
Sandy introduces Nelson and Henry says, with a nervous attempt at banter, ‘Two DCIs. I’m honoured.’
‘It’s a special offer,’ says Sandy, deadpan. ‘Buy one, get one free.’
Professor Henry ushers them into the windmill and up what seem to be hundreds of twisty metal steps. Eventually, they reach a room at the very top of the house which Henry describes as his study. To Nelson it looks like something from one of those poncy design programmes that Michelle likes so much. The walls are glass, the floor shiny wood and there is nothing as utilitarian as a desk or an office chair anywhere. Sandy and Nelson sit on low sofas and Henry (to Nelson’s amazement) on what looks like a giant beach ball. ‘It’s for my back,’ he explains, bouncing gently. ‘Ergonomically sound.’
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ says Sandy. ‘Now, Professor Henry, as I said on the phone, I’d like to ask you a few questions about the late Daniel Golding.’
Nelson admires Sandy’s complete lack of what Judy would call ‘empathetic echoing’. He simply gets out a notebook and barks questions. How long had Professor Henry known Daniel Golding? Five years, ever since he came to work at Pendle. Was he a good archaeologist? Yes, excellent. He could probably have taken a more prestigious job elsewhere but his wife had got a job at Preston University and wanted to move north. (Nelson sympathises with this; it was at Michelle’s insistence that they moved to Norfolk and, deep down, he’s never forgiven her.) Was Golding still married? No, they divorced about three years ago, it was very sad. Girlfriends? Don’t know, but he was a good-looking chap, so it’s possible.
‘Was Daniel Golding popular in the department?’
For the first time, Clayton Henry falters. The ball stops bouncing and seems to deflate slightly.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘He was a lovely man. Everyone liked him.’
‘Could you give me the names of his closest friends?’
‘Look,’ says Henry. ‘What’s all this about? Daniel’s death was a tragedy. There was nothing sinister about it, was there?’
Interesting choice of word, thinks Nelson. Also, by his reckoning, Henry should have asked this question about ten minutes earlier.
Sandy hardly looks up from his notebook. ‘We’re treating his death as suspected murder, Professor Henry.’
‘What?’ For a second, Henry seems to lose his balance and rocks wildly on the ball. His feet scrabble on the floorboards. Nelson looks at him with distaste – in his book bare feet are for women or children.
‘The fire in his house was started deliberately,’ says Sandy.
‘Oh my God.’
‘So we’re interested to know if anyone had a grudge against Golding, either professionally or personally.’
All the bounce has gone out of both Henry and the ball. He stands up and walks quickly round the circular room. Sandy and Nelson both watch him impassively.
Eventually, Henry comes to a halt between the two policemen. He sits heavily on the sofa next to Nelson.
‘I can’t think of anyone who would do this,’ he says. ‘Daniel was very popular, a little reserved perhaps, but a charming, personable man.’
‘Professor Henry,’ says Sandy. ‘In the past Pendle University has had trouble with the extreme right. Is there any chance that Daniel could have been involved with one of these groups?’
Henry laughs. For the first time, he sounds almost natural. ‘Daniel? Never! He was a real Guardian-reading liberal. Like the rest of us in the history department.’
Nelson thinks of Ruth, who also reads the Guardian. He can’t really see the point of newspapers himself, he prefers to get his news from the TV, but Michelle rather likes the Daily Mail.
‘Could these right-wingers have had something against Golding?’ asks Sandy.
‘Why?’
‘Maybe because he was Jewish?’
Henry is silent for a moment, then he says, ‘I don’t know. You can’t put anything past these idiots. But most people didn’t even know Daniel was Jewish. He wasn’t a religious Jew. Didn’t make a song and dance of it.’