Secrets of Death
raise an eyebrow. ‘And what’s that, DI Cooper?’
    ‘I’d like to see Carol Villiers moved up to Acting DS.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Her promotion is long overdue, ma’am.’
    ‘She came to us with a lot of experience, didn’t she?’
    ‘Yes, from her service with the RAF Police. Besides, we’ve lost DS Sharma to liaison with Immigration Enforcement.’
    ‘You’re probably right.’
    Cooper was pleased to hear her say that. He’d been recommending a promotion for Carol Villiers for the past year or so, without any success.
    He knew he could always rely on Villiers to supporthim, and without the sarcastic and dismissive comments he would have got from Diane Fry when she was in E Division. So there was nothing he wanted more than a promotion to detective sergeant for her. The irony was that she might then get transferred away from E Division, since there was no vacancy at Edendale at the moment.
    Branagh made a note. It always looked official when she made a note. If she didn’t, it suggested she was going to forget what he’d said as soon as he left the room.
    Then she looked again at his summary of the suicide cases.
    ‘At least these locations are relatively remote,’ she said.
    ‘So far, ma’am.’
    ‘Yes, so far.’
    It was a nagging worry in the back of Cooper’s mind that an incident would happen one sunny weekend in a packed tourist hotspot like Castleton or Dovedale. That would cause chaos.
    The entire population within the national park was no more than the size of a couple of small towns. The people who lived and worked in the area were overwhelmed by the sheer volume of visitors, who numbered in their millions. The Peak District’s proximity to major conurbations meant that about twenty million people lived within an hour’s drive.
    Yet the distribution of visitors was very uneven. There were vast areas of the Peaks you could go to where you might see no one all day. You just needed a bit of energy and determination to get there.
    Onthe other hand, Dovedale alone received an estimated two million visitors each year. The famous and much photographed stepping stones across the River Dove were like a tourist highway in the summer, with their own traffic jams and their own incidents of road rage. Or stepping stone rage. So far, there had been no injuries apart from a few wet feet when someone went into the water.
    Then there were Bakewell, Castleton, Chatsworth, Hartington – their role as honey pots attracting crowds of visitors created ever more pressure. The last thing they needed was suicide tourism.
    ‘As for the staff situation …’ began Branagh.
    ‘Yes, ma’am?’
    ‘Of course, the senior management team is very much aware of the pressure on front-line resources,’ she said, as if reading from a press release. ‘We’re currently looking at ways of supplementing staff levels.’
    ‘Really?’ said Cooper.
    The superintendent gave him a surprised look, as if he’d just flatly contradicted her. But he wouldn’t have been able to do that, since he wasn’t clear what she was saying.
    ‘That’s good news, ma’am,’ he said.
    ‘Absolutely. I knew you’d be pleased.’
    Cooper left Superintendent Branagh’s office and walked back down the corridor, watching the lights come on and off as he passed through the sensors. He was wondering whether he really was going to be pleased, or not.

6
    Backin his own office, Ben Cooper sat down with Carol Villiers to go through the reports again. Individually, the cases were sad. Taken as a whole, they were part of a growing tragedy. But was there a pattern?
    There were always a small number of suicides to deal with. But the figures plotted on to a chart showed a steep upward trajectory in recent weeks, a worrying trend that couldn’t be ignored. Four in April, only two the month before. Then six in May. Now June was looking even worse. It was still early in the month, yet the suicides were mounting up.
    So the reports made a large, daunting

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