The Dying Place by Luca Veste Page B

a list of people who have something in common with someone, interactions between them, conversations, that sort of thing. Especially as all you divs seem to do it out in the open.’
    ‘And what?’
    ‘And that means we know you know Dean Hughes, that’s what. So let’s stop messing about here and you can just answer the questions we ask, that sound all right with you?’
    Murphy was surprised to see Cooper tear his eyes away from the ceiling and finally look towards them. ‘I’m not a grass,’ Cooper said.
    ‘Never said you were.’
    Cooper looked upwards once more before dropping his head to his chest. ‘Go ’ead then.’
    ‘How do you know Dean?’
    Cooper shrugged. ‘Just from around and that.’
    ‘How long have you known him?’
    ‘’Bout a year. It’s not like we’re best mates or anything. He’s just always around with the same people I’m with.’
    Rossi shifted some paper from inside her folder as Murphy paused.
    ‘He owes you some money?’ Rossi said, reading from her notes.
    ‘Yeah, but no one’s seen him for ages.’
    ‘How much does he owe you?’
    Cooper shrugged, bit on his lower lip and shrugged again. ‘A few ton.’
    ‘A few hundred quid?’ Murphy said, affecting a little surprise into his speech. ‘Do you lend all your “not really mates” that kind of money?’
    Cooper was struggling under Murphy’s gaze a little. ‘Nah …’
    Murphy guessed at what was holding him back. ‘You didn’t exactly lend him the money, did you? He was supposed to pay for something, am I right?’
    ‘Something like that.’
    ‘So you were just trying to get that money back?’
    ‘Yeah. I sent him some messages on Facebook and that. Knocked at his house but his mum said he’d done one. To be honest, I’d forgotten about it.’
    ‘Lose face a bit?’ Rossi said, still not lifting her gaze up from her notes.
    ‘What do you mean?’ Cooper said, bridling at that.
    ‘With the lads. Maybe even the girls as well. Paul Cooper getting ripped off by some lad he barely knows? Can’t have been good.’
    Murphy watched Cooper carefully for a reaction, something which they could possibly use.
    ‘Well, I didn’t do anything. Couldn’t find him,’ Cooper replied, shifting his gaze back to Murphy. ‘Why are you asking me all this now anyway? He’s been gone for fuckin’ ages and no one has said anything before.’
    Murphy shared a look with Rossi. Gave her a nod.
    ‘Dean Hughes is dead, Paul. Severely beaten and then strangled.’
    This time Cooper’s reaction was easier to read.
    ‘Fuck …’
    Murphy took over. ‘So you understand now why we’re a bit more interested in him. Why we might be interested in people who might have a reason to be angry with him?’
    ‘No …’
    ‘People with violent records, perhaps? People with a history of losing their temper easily and getting themselves into trouble.’
    Cooper sat back, running both hands over his shaved dome. ‘No way. I’m not getting done for this. I haven’t even seen him in months. And anyway, I know when to stop.’
    ‘Do you, Paul?’ Rossi asked, flipping over a page. ‘Would Stephen Fowler agree with that, do you think?’
    Cooper looked between them both, an incredulous look plastered across his face. ‘That was … nah, I’m not having this. That was years ago and the fuckin’ prick deserved it.’
    ‘Really?’ Murphy said, tone lowered and controlled.
    ‘Yeah, he tried to hurt my sister. The knobhead was lucky.’
    ‘And was Dean Hughes deserving of your particular brand of justice?’
    Cooper was sweating, the globules of moisture springing forward on his forehead. Murphy wasn’t surprised. He’d dealt with so many of this type before. Cocky little wankers – until something serious landed on their doorstep. Then it’s shitting bricks time.
    ‘No, no. That’s not me. I wouldn’t go that far, honest.’
    ‘Right,’ Murphy said. ‘Good to know. We’ll take your word for it, obviously.’
    ‘Really,’