She shook her head uncertainly. She had always been told that Joanna adored her father.

‘There’s something else,’ she said. ‘I think Simon Barton and Alex might be having an affair.’

‘Did she tell you that?’

‘No,’ Molly said. ‘But I think she told Ursula. Simon Barton wouldn’t want it to be general knowledge. Marcus Grenville might stop passing lucrative contracts in his direction.’

‘How did you find out about the affair?’

‘They were both on the Solway at the weekend.’

‘That’s hardly conclusive.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘But it’s an interesting coincidence.’

Dave Benwell came after they had finished the washing up when they were drinking coffee. It was eight o’clock, dark. The wind was so strong and noisy, rattling the windows in the frames and through the badly fitting door, that they did not hear his car on the track. He came round the house to the kitchen and knocked on the window, almost unrecognisable with his anorak hood pulled low on his forehead, a strange face pressed against the glass. George pushed the door against the wind and let him in.

‘I thought you might be curious,’ Benwell said, ‘ to know what’s been happening.’ He took off his coat and accepted a coffee. They had no sense of urgency.

‘Have you seen the evening paper?’ George asked. ‘I’d guess the story was given by the same person who phoned the police about the poisoning. Have you talked to the editor?’

Benwell nodded. ‘ It’s not been terribly useful,’ he said. ‘The editor claims they had an anonymous call from a man. They sent a reporter in Crowford to check the facts, then decided to publish. Do you think it’s important?’

‘It would be interesting to know who dislikes Grenville so intensely,’ George said.

‘Yes,’ Benwell said. ‘ Well, I might have some idea about that. I followed up what you said about there being something odd about Grenville’s relationship with Danny Craven. I got someone from the Somerset force, an old friend, to make some inquiries on the estate where Craven worked on Exmoor. My mate took a retired keeper to the pub at lunchtime, bought him a few drinks and came up with some interesting information. I’ve spent most of the afternoon on the phone.’

‘Well?’ Molly demanded. ‘ What did you find out?’

Benwell leaned forward over the table. ‘Craven worked on the estate for ten years,’ he said. ‘He went there straight from school. He was a bit wild at first, they said. Cocky, you know, but not unpleasant. He was a good worker and he steadied down as he got older. He seems to have settled well, to have fitted in as much as outsiders can in a place like that. There was even some talk of romance with a local girl.