But as WPC Trudy Loveday diligently set to and started tackling her workload, Phyllis Raynor left the Raven’s Rest Bed and Breakfast and set out to do some work of her own. Work that her very respectable, working-class parents would no doubt have described as ‘dirty’ had they known about it.

Navigating the pavements, which had become little more than tunnels in the snow after so many days of unrelenting snowfall, she pulled her coat and scarf closer around her. The streetlights revealed very few people out and about in the premature darkness of a winter’s afternoon, but she was glad of the anonymity her bulky winter clothing gave her nonetheless.

When she had finally battled her way to reach the entrance of the large, impressive house where Terry Parker had spent his last hours on earth, she regarded it thoughtfully. She’d seen it before on New Year’s Eve, obviously, but then she had been too tense to really give it its due. Now she could admire the solid, Cotswold stone bastion that screamed secure, understated wealth and upper-class respectability. She had to hand it to Terry – when he went digging for gold he didn’t mess about.

She took a last look around the deserted, dark, freezing road behind her, then stepped onto private property and made her way to the door. There, after taking a long, slow breath, she straightened her shoulders and rang the bell.

She was almost as tense now as she had been on the occasion of her previous visit. As then, a lot was riding on the outcome of the next hour or so. Would it be easier or harder for her to gain an advantage now? Was Millie Vander a better bet? True, she didn’t have as much on Millie as she did on Terry. But on the other hand, Millie had, possibly, far more to lose – depending on what sort of woman she was.

Phyllis had been careful to avoid her at the party naturally (which had taken some doing, since the older woman had been – technically anyway – her hostess!) But from what she remembered of the attractive redhead, Millie had seemed very much the darling of society that Phyllis had assumed her to be.

Not the sort, surely, to relish scandal or ridicule? Phyllis very much hoped not. She was going to have to play this by ear, of course, but on the whole, she rated her chances of success pretty highly.

The door was suddenly jerked open, snapping her abruptly out of her nervous reverie. A young, rather lovely girl with a sulky face regarded her with narrowed eyes.

‘Yes?’ the girl demanded peremptorily.