Part 37 (2/2)

A moment later, Lane stood with him at the bottom of the steps and looked around the cellar. He examined the tangle of beer lines, the equipment lying around, the row of empty kegs. He reached out a hand to pick up the wooden mallet, then changed his mind, perhaps remembering that it was a crime scene. He shook his head over the stainless-steel buckets, the hosepipe and the piles of filter funnels.

'Most of this will have to come out,' he said. 'It's been standing too long. The new owners will have to sc.r.a.p it and do a major clear-out before they can reopen.'

'We'll need to spend quite a bit of time here before they can do anything with it, I'm afraid,' said Cooper.

Lane bent over a pile of beer taps, and made a disgusted expression at the smell.

'Why?' he said. 'What is going on exactly? You didn't explain anything to me before. I mean, I'm glad to help, if I can, but ...?'

'I can't really tell you much at the moment,' said Cooper.

Lane shrugged. 'Story of my life.'

'I'm truly sorry. I know that sounds pompous, but we're right in the middle of a major inquiry here.'

'Is it about the tourist couple, the Pearsons? Can you tell me that, at least?'

'Yes, I don't suppose that's much of a secret.'

'Not around Edendale.'

The lighting in the cellar consisted of fluorescent tubes. They cast a harsh light, and Cooper could hear a faint whine as if one of them was wearing out and getting close to needing replacement. It was a high-pitched noise, like a mosquito, and it would start to bother him if he had to spend much time down here.

'Josh, can you remember what used to be down here?' he said. 'I mean, anything that isn't here now?'

'I don't know. There was an awful lot of junk,' said Lane. 'Old Maurice got a bit slack in his last couple of years.'

'Slack?'

'He used to run a tight s.h.i.+p at one time, but gradually standards slipped. The cellar is a place you put things so they're out of the way.'

'A dumping ground,' said Cooper, consciously echoing the phrase used by Roddy.

'Exactly. A dumping ground.'

Cooper indicated the clean area on the floor. It was surrounded now by Liz Petty's evidence markers, the wall scattered with white dust.

'For example, what used to stand here?' he said.

Lane stared at the markers, and seemed at a loss for an answer. Cooper was disappointed. But he couldn't complain, really a he knew how unreliable memory could be, especially when the context was wrong.

'A freezer, perhaps?' he suggested.

'A freezer? Yes a I think you're right. A freezer.'

'Just one?'

Lane hesitated, still reluctant to commit himself. 'Well, I think there might have been two. Old freezers. They weren't used for the kitchen. There's a full-sized commercial freezer upstairs.'

'Do you happen to know when they were taken out?'

'No idea.'

'That's all right.'

Perhaps Lane wasn't going to be as useful a witness as he'd hoped. Nevertheless, Cooper led him to the far end of the cellar.

'What about this area part.i.tioned off?'

'Oh, that,' said Lane. 'Maurice and Nancy called it the office. Actually, it was more of a place for them to be on their own when they felt the need. And somewhere to put things so they were, well ...'

'Out of the way?'

'Yes.'

'But there are filing cabinets in here.'

'Yes, old business records, I suppose. Nothing of any interest.'

'No?'

Lane was getting a bit fidgety now. He looked at his watch. 'I'm sorry to be awkward, but I really should be leaving soon if I'm going to get to work on time. They don't like you being late at the hotel.'

'Yes, of course.'

He smiled uncertainly. 'Have I helped at all?'

'Actually, I think you have, Josh,' said Cooper.

'Oh?'

Lane looked at him, hoping for more, but seemed to realise that he wasn't going to get any information. He went to the steps and climbed up through the hatch.

'Did I tell you that I used to come here sometimes?' called Cooper. 'I remember this pub when it was all lit up and you could see it for miles.'

There was no reply for a moment, and he wondered if Lane was still there. Then a voice came down to him through the hatch from the floor above. He almost didn't recognise it, the tone of the words was so different.

'Don't worry, Sergeant,' said Lane. 'The place will be lit up again soon.'

Cooper frowned. What did that mean? Lane must be referring to the prospect of the pub reopening under new owners. The date of the auction wasn't far off now. Thomas Pilkington and his son would be getting stressed about the possibility of the police refusing to release their crime scene because the investigation was still ongoing, or of a potential buyer being put off by the story of a double murder.

On second thoughts, that might be a pretty good marketing angle. There were plenty of ghoulish individuals who would flock to visit a pub with a reputation like that. They would probably fight each other to book an overnight stay in the Bakewell Room. In no time, business would be booming again, with locals telling gruesome stories of the murderous Mad Maurice.

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