Read Death on High (The Lakeland Murders) for Free Online

economists still use it, right?’
    ‘Probably. I’m a bit out of touch.’
    ‘Never, dad. Cords are right back in fashion now you know. Even your ones.’
     
    Hall was off duty that day and just about to start work on a fry-up, but before he did he called the station switchboard and got the home number of the leader of the Ambleside Mountain Rescue team, Dougie Quayle. The man who answered sounded local, youngish, and quite possibly a little hung over. Hall introduced himself, and apologised for the interruption.
    ‘Don’t worry. We were on a job till all hours. Some tosser got lost up Kentmere, called us out on his mobile at midnight, and by the time we were half way up we found him, strolling back down with his girlfriend. They were both wearing trainers.’
    ‘That must be annoying.’
    ‘Sometimes I dream of the old days, before mobile phones.’
    ‘You and me both. Listen, were you on that job on Fairfield, on the 3rd?’
    ‘Yes, the fatal. I was leading that. What a shame. Bloke was only about fifty, no age at all.’
    Hall found himself warming to Quayle.
    ‘Would you mind if I dropped in for a quick chat?’
    Quayle didn’t, and they arranged to meet at the Mountain Rescue team’s base at eleven. ‘I need to check some gear anyway’ said Quayle.
     
    It was a lovely morning, and for the first time that year Hall felt a tiny bit of warmth from the sun when he walked out to the car. The Clematis that he’d trained up the front of the house when they’d first moved in and which now reached right up the gutters was already covered in long green shoots, and he always liked seeing those. It was a sign that winter was almost done. He opened the garage, grabbed his walking boots and jacket and threw them in the boot of the car, just on the off chance that he’d get a stroll in.
     
    He enjoyed the drive to Ambleside too, listening to the Drive-By Truckers nice and loud. He sang along, well out of tune, and decided he’d definitely go for a walk after he’d seen Dougie Quayle. He found a parking space in the Rescue team’s yard, and Quayle was the only person in the big shed, where the vehicles were neatly parked up in line. He was older than Hall had expected, almost his own age but thin and grey bearded, and he seemed to be checking through coil after coil of rope.
    ‘Some of our members put gear back in the wrong place, even though I always tell them to check. It drives me mad. You must be Inspector Hall.’
    ‘Andy Hall, yes.’
    ‘What can I do for you Andy? It’s about that fatal on Fairfield isn’t it?’
    ‘Yes. I wanted you to tell me what happened.’
    ‘Not much to tell really. We took the call, and couldn’t call the helo in because the vis was terrible, and getting worse all the time. We were eight up, I can give you the names if you want, and because it was a Sunday we were away from here double quick. Probably within ten minutes of the shout. We drove to Rydal Mount, on up the valley as far as we could, then walked in from there. So we came at the casualty from below, although I sent one of the lads up to the top. He’s a fell runner, one of the best, so he was up in no time. We sent the dog up the scree slope ahead of us, and sure enough Jasper went straight to the casualty. He was in a bad way. Anyway, we got him back to our vehicle, then out to the ambulance. But we didn’t think he’d make it to be honest. We see too many fallers, as you’d expect, and you do get to know how bad they are when you see them.’
    Hall thought about what Quayle had said, and decided to ask an open question.
    ‘Did anything about the incident strike you as unusual?’
    ‘Not really. Sadly we had a fell runner collapse very close to the point where our casualty fell a year or two back, and we’ve had a few other incidents on that route over the years. It’s one of the busiest walks in the Lakes. Some days I don’t know why they do it. Manchester is probably quieter.’
    ‘What about falling