Free Dying Fall by Sally Spencer

you?’
    â€˜No,’ Rutter agreed. ‘I didn’t.’
    â€˜What you
did
say was that you wanted your old job back – very badly. So I gave you the chance. I let you in on the Haverton Camp case even before you’d been properly signed off the sick – which was a pretty big risk for me.’
    â€˜I know it was,’ Rutter told him. ‘And I’m grateful.’
    â€˜For a while, I thought it was workin’ out,’ Woodend said. ‘You were a bit wobbly on a couple of cases, but, on the whole, you did well.’
    â€˜Except that you’d much rather I hadn’t got involved with Liz Driver,’ Rutter said.
    â€˜Elizabeth Driver has nothin’ to do with this,’ Woodend said, his anger returning.
    â€˜Hasn’t she, sir?’
    â€˜No, she bloody hasn’t. What we’re talkin’ about here is your performance – an’ it simply isn’t good enough.’ Woodend paused. ‘You’ve been almost like a son to me, Bob, an’ if I wasn’t a northern workin’-class male, who doesn’t go in for any such soppiness, I might even go so far as to say I loved you. But I love my job, an’ all, an’ I need to have people workin’ with me who I can rely on. So I’m goin’ to have to let you go, Bob. There’s no choice in the matter. I’m goin’ to have you transferred to some other, less stressful duties.’
    Rutter said nothing for perhaps half a minute, then he asked, ‘Can I speak
now
?’
    Woodend sighed. ‘Yes, you can speak now,’ he agreed.
    â€˜I know who the murdered man is,’ Rutter said.
    â€˜You know
what
?’
    â€˜A couple of hours ago, I found myself wondering if he’d keep whatever valuables he had on him while he slept. And I decided he probably wouldn’t, because when you’re asleep, you’re at your most vulnerable. So what would he have done with them?’
    â€˜You tell me,’ Woodend said.
    â€˜I thought it likely he’d have hidden them, but that his hiding place would probably be somewhere close to where he dossed down for the night. So I went back to the old mill, and looked around. There was a loose brick in the wall, close to where the body was found, and when I took it out, I found these behind it.’
    He took a clear plastic envelope out of his pocket, and laid it on the desk. Inside it, Woodend could see a battered wallet, two faded photographs of a woman, and a dog-eared driving licence.
    â€˜His name’s Philip Turner,’ Rutter said. ‘He comes from Manchester, and he was fifty-one years old when he was murdered.’
    â€˜Is that what you’ve been doin’ since you left headquarters?’ Woodend asked. ‘Looking for his personal possessions?’
    â€˜Yes,’ Rutter said.
    â€˜Apart from the time I took to visit Dr Shastri, and make an appointment with the doctor she recommended,’ he added mentally.
    â€˜But the WPC said you’d gone off on personal business,’ Woodend told him.
    â€˜Perhaps she’s right, and that
is
what I told her,’ Rutter conceded. ‘Possibly I said it because I thought that was easier than explaining what I was actually going to do, or maybe I just said the first thing that came into my head. To tell you the truth, my mind was so wrapped up in the case that I’ve no idea
what
I said.’
    Woodend’s face was filled with remorse. ‘I’m sorry, lad,’ he said.
    â€˜Forget it, sir,’ Rutter said awkwardly.
    â€˜No, I won’t forget it,’ Woodend replied. ‘I should have trusted you. God knows, you’ve given me reason enough to in the past. An’ there was me talkin’ about how I’d gone out on a limb for you, an’ forgettin’ how many times you’d done the same thing for me.’
    â€˜Water under the bridge,’ Rutter said. He forced himself to smile.