The Dead Place by Stephen Booth Page A

much difference.
    'What are their names?' he said, knowing it always went down well with the punters to show an interest in their pets.
    Jarvis grimaced at the dogs. 'Feckless, Pointless, Graceless and Aimless.'
    'Really?'
    'Don't ask me why. It was her idea.'
    'Whose?'
    He jerked his head towards the house. 'Hers. The wife's.'
    'Well, I don't need to ask why. Mrs Jarvis must be a fan of Cold Comfort Farm. The Starkadders and Aunt Ada Doom.'
    'Aunt who?'
    '"Something nasty in the woodshed."'
    Jarvis shrugged, his expression unreadable. 'If you say so.'
    Cooper stepped carefully over the dogs. None of them moved, or even opened an eye to look at him. There seemed to be an awful lot of muddy paws and scruffy tails protruding from the heap and sprawling across the oak boards. But Mr Jarvis said there were only four dogs, and Cooper had to believe him.
    'Just routine,' said Jarvis. 'That's what you all say, isn't it? Do they teach you that in police school?'
    Cooper laughed. 'Yes. But I do mean it for once.'
    Jarvis gave him a brief nod. 'You've time for a brew then, if it's just routine.'
    'No, sir. Thank you.'
    'Suit yourself.'
    'Actually, it's about the human remains that were found at the edge of your property,' said Cooper.
    'Bloody hell, that was weeks ago. Have you found out who the poor bugger was?'
    46 'Not yet.'
    'Some dropout, I reckon,' said Jarvis.
    Cooper smiled at the old-fashioned term. It was what his grandfather had called anyone with long hair, an expression he'd picked up in the sixties and never stopped using.
    'Why do you say that, sir?'
    'Well, it was a skeleton. That person must have been there for years. Yet nobody missed them.'
    'Perhaps.'
    Cooper produced the photographs he'd been given by Suzi Lee. 'This is a facial reconstruction. Does it remind you of anyone you might have seen around this area at any time?'
    'The dead person?' said Jarvis, making no attempt to reach for the pictures.
    'Yes, sir, We've had them done by a forensic artist, so the likeness won't be exact. We're hoping it might jog someone's memory.'
    Rather reluctantly, Jarvis took the photos. He frowned at the appearance of the face, perhaps noticing the inhuman aspects of it first before focusing on the features that might be recognizable.
    'A woman,' he said.
    'Yes, sir. We know that much, at least. She was white, aged between forty and forty-five, five feet seven inches tall. The hair and eyes may not be quite right.'
    Jarvis was silent, staring fixedly at the photos. Cooper waited patiently, conscious of a trickle of dampness in his collar and a pool of water forming at his feet as the rain ran off his clothes on to the porch.
    'Do they ring any bells, sir?' he asked.
    But Jarvis shook his head. 'Strange to think she was lying dead as a doornail just down there. It makes me feel a bit peculiar.'
    'I understand.'
    'She doesn't look like a dropout, though.'
    47 'No,' agreed Cooper. 'She doesn't.'
    Jarvis handed the photos back. 'I never thought it would be a woman. No bugger told me that.'
    'While I'm here, would you mind if I had a look at the site where the remains were found?' asked Cooper.
    'If you like. There isn't much to see.'
    As Cooper turned, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. One of the dogs was loping across the grass towards the woods. Matted lumps of hair bounced on its sides, and legs flew in all directions as its tongue sprayed saliva into the air. The dog had a curious gait - it ran almost sideways, with one shoulder pointing in the direction it was going, but its head turned to the side, like a circus clown grinning to the audience. Cooper had no idea which of the dogs it was, but he knew which name would fit perfectly.
    'Yes, that's Graceless,' said Jarvis. 'The only bitch in the bunch. Lovely nature, she has. Ugly as sin, though.'
    'Yes, I can see.'
    Graceless seemed to be the only one of the dogs with enough energy to reach the woods. Feckless, Pointless and Aimless lay on the porch and watched her