Trudy frowned. Two sets of tracks – the dog walker’s in deep snow, and the constable’s where he’d trampled down a path – were clear enough. Both men, sensibly, had come and gone using the same set of tracks each had made. If you had to plough through nearly two feet of snow, it was hard work. Instinctively, you’d put your feet in the same holes coming as going, and in the bottom of each set of tracks, she could just make out the individual boot patterns of each man. Those of the dog walker, though, were fast disappearing in the falling snow.

But the other indentations in the snow had no marks in them at all – nor were they so deep. ‘It looks as if someone might have been here already – perhaps last night when it happened – and then fresh snow partially filled in the holes?’ she hazarded, looking up at Clement.

‘Or they might have been caused more recently by someone or something that was not heavy, and didn’t sink so deeply into the snow?’ Clement pointed out. He glanced at the constable. ‘What was the breed of dog?’

‘Sorry?’ Wilkins blinked at the older man in consternation.

‘The dog walker’s? Was it a small dog, or a big one? Could it have been prancing around, making these marks?’

‘I don’t see any pawprints,’ Trudy said, peering into one of the smaller indentations. Might a fox have made them in the night, she wondered, sniffing around and disturbing the scene?

‘It was a collie,’ Wilkins said to the coroner, sounding bored. ‘One of those daft, friendly, black-and-white ones.’

Trudy shrugged and stood up. ‘Well, Dr Ryder has confirmed death. Why don’t you see if you can find someone up in one of these?’ She glanced around at the houses. ‘And ask to use their telephone and get the mortuary van out here? I’m sure someone will give you a cup of tea – maybe even offer you breakfast if you’re lucky,’ Trudy added quickly, when it was obvious that Wilkins was about to object to having to hang around.

She saw the allure of bacon and eggs work its magic and the constable nodded and walked off, looking almost jaunty, to the nearest house.

Trudy braced herself then walked to the car, stepping in Dr Ryder’s footsteps, and inspected the body inside. She was glad it wasn’t gruesome, but she still felt slightly queasy as she reached into the dead man’s coat pockets in search of identification.

She found it in his wallet.

‘Terrence James Parker,’ she said, glancing down at the dead man sadly. ‘I wonder what he was looking forward to doing in this brand-new year?’

Clement shook his head. Although he heard her comment, he wasn’t feeling in a philosophical mood.

‘Trudy, I don’t like the look of his eyes,’ he said flatly.

Chapter 7