Blood on the Tongue (Ben Cooper & Diane Fry) by Stephen Booth Page A

argue. He'd never given her a reason, and she hadn't asked, in the end.
    She looked at the face of the old man, Zygmunt, at the proud tilt of his head and the direct stare. Peter was becoming more and more like his father with age. Sometimes, if she watched him carefully, she saw a different look in her husband's eyes when the old man called him 'Piotr'. It was a look that she'd never been able to bring to his eyes, even in their most intimate moments. No matter how many times she whispered his name, she could never bring the same look of pride. The meaning wasn't there for him in 'Peter' in the way it was when he heard his Polish name. For a moment, she wished she could do it by calling him 'Piotr' herself. But she knew it was too late to change a habit now.
    Grace went quickly to the window when she heard the sound of a car. A Ford had pulled up at her kerb beyond their hedge. She could see a man with fair hair in the driver's seat. It wasn't Andrew. A woman got out on the passenger side. She met Grace's eyes for a moment. Then she turned away and walked to a house two doors down, while the driver waved and drove off. Grace let go of the breath she'd been holding. It wasn't her either. Not yet.
    *    *    *    *
     
    Frank Baine waited to be sure he still had their attention. Alison Morrissey had her gaze fixed on Chief Superintendent Jepson. She seemed to be trying to will the Chief to listen, though Cooper knew Jepson well enough to see that his brain had switched off already. Probably he'd decided in advance the amount of time he was prepared to give. Cooper wondered how fast the clock was ticking down.
    'Former Pilot Officer Zygmunt Lukasz is the sole surviving crew member of Sugar Uncle Victor,' said Baine. 'Lukasz was one of the youngest of the crew, but even he is seventy-eight now. As it happens, he lives here, in Edendale.'
    'No doubt you'll be visiting him,' said Jepson, as if suggesting there was no time like the present.
    'We have been in contact with the Lukasz family,' said Baine. 'It would be fair to say that they're not keen to co-operate.'
    'Pity,' said Jepson.
    'On the day of the crash, the skipper had filed a visual flight record with flight control, as was normal practice,' said Baine. 'He'd been briefed on broken clouds at two thousand feet and poor visibility. But somehow he went off course and found himself over the Peak District. He discovered the fact too late, when he nosed the aircraft down through the overcast to establish his position. Directly in front of him was Irontongue Hill. He never stood a chance of avoiding it.'
    'Five men died in the crash. There were two who survived.'
    'Yes, the seventh was the pilot, my grandfather,' said Alison Morrissey. 'After the crash, he was never found.'
    Cooper was ready for this. It was the whole point of the meeting, after all. The rest was just preamble. 'He was listed as having deserted,' he said. 'In the air accident enquiry, he was also blamed for the crash.'
    Morrissey turned on him suddenly. 'He was the pilot. He was in command of the aircraft. Since there was no evidence given of enemy action or mechanical fault, he was bound to take the blame. He was branded guilty by default. And there's absolutely no evidence that my grandfather deserted. Absolutely none.'
    'But he was seen leaving the area,' said Cooper.
    'No – he was not.'
    Chief Superintendent Jepson stirred slightly, his interest piqued by the suddenly raised voices. He studied the report that had been prepared for him by the Local Intelligence Officer. 'According to my information, two young boys were spoken to, who said they'd seen an airman walking down the Blackbrook Reservoir road, from Irontongue Hill towards Glossop. That seems fairly conclusive.'
    'Their statement was crucial. I'd like to find them now to talk to them, but the boys aren't named in the reports I have.'
    'That might be unfortunate from your point of view, Miss Morrissey, but they were only children, after