On Laughton Moor by Lisa Hartley Page A

about ten minutes. Bishop chatted away about all sorts of things, Anna Varcoe adding comments when she could get a word in. Varcoe couldn’t remember working like this with the DS before and she was enjoying the experience. She’d once been told Bishop could be prickly and difficult to get on with but she’d never found this herself and wasn’t one to judge on hearsay. All sorts of gossip travelled around the station, rumours, scandals and plain lies, but Varcoe tried to keep herself away from it as much as she could. She also didn’t want to be the talk of the station, and had always kept her working life and personal life as separate as she could. It had worked pretty well so far.
     
    Bishop bumped the car up onto a grass verge and brought it to a halt. They climbed out and made their way over to the nearest builder who nodded his head towards a muddy path through the site. Following it was a tricky business as it was potholed and wet, but they made it through unscathed to where Mike Pollard was unloading sheets of insulation from the back of a trailer. Bishop sauntered over.
      ‘Afternoon, Mike. How’s it going?’
    Pollard turned.
      ‘How’s what going? I’ve spoken to you once today already, can’t you leave me alone? Have you found out who killed my brother yet?’
    In response, Bishop stuck the printout under Pollard’s nose. He stared at it.
      ‘Who’s this?’
      ‘We were hoping you could tell us.’
    Pollard took the sheet, held it up to the light.
      ‘Looks like one of Craig’s old mates Nick . . . no, Steve something.’
      ‘Steve who? This is really important, Mike.’
      ‘I don’t know, I just know him as Steve. Used to be a pal of Craig’s years ago. I’m sure that was his name.’
    Bishop took the paper back.
      ‘And this was when Craig was at school? Was he a school friend, or did Craig know him from somewhere else?’
    Pollard shook his head.
      ‘I don’t know, honestly. I think it was after school, maybe when Craig was working, but I’m not sure. They didn’t want me hanging around with them.’
      ‘And there’s nothing else you can tell us about him?’
      ‘I don’t think so. They were quite matey for a while, but I think they had some kind of an argument. Maybe not though, Craig had so many friends back then, different ones every week it seemed like.’
      ‘All right, thanks Mike.’
    Pollard turned away, went back to the insulation. Bishop and Varcoe left him to it, made their way gingerly back to the car. Bishop dropped into the driver’s seat and sighed heavily.
      ‘Shit.’ she said.
      ‘It’s a start.’ Varcoe said.
      ‘I know, but the DCI wants a finish. There must be a million Steves in town, and that’s assuming Pollard remembered the right name and this mysterious Steve even lived here. He could be from anywhere.’
      ‘We’ll have to go to the school, then.’
      ‘Yes, but not now, I need to get back to the station. You go on there, take someone with you. Here you go.’ Bishop said, holding out the now slightly creased printout. Varcoe reached out and took it from her quickly as Bishop threw the car into gear and sped off.
     
     
    Knight paced the conference room as Bishop shot through the door. It was a couple of minutes after two o’clock, but there was no sign as yet of the DCI. Catherine Bishop ran her hands through her hair as she sat down. Knight stood beside her.
      ‘How did you and DC Varcoe get on?’ he asked.
      ‘We got a name from Mike Pollard, but only a first name. Pollard’s parents didn’t recognise him. Mike says the bloke’s called Steve, but obviously that’s about as helpful as him being called John Smith. Anna’s on her way over to the school Pollard used to go to now to see if anyone there knows our man, but I think it’s a bit of a long shot to be honest. Mike Pollard thinks Craig might have been friends with our mystery caller after school, and anyway, will there be any teachers