In the Cadver Marcus and Olivia Grenville took tea in the drawing room. There were scones and a gingerbread and Marcus ate hungrily.

‘There will be rumours about Ursula Ottway’s death,’ Olivia said. ‘You must be careful what you say. It’s a nuisance that girl of Jeremy’s was here on Friday night. If it were just the family there would be no need to mention the incident at all.’

She sat, very upright, on a chair by the window. Her hair was pulled back from her face and pinned up in an old-fashioned, elaborate style. Marcus, sitting by the fire, reached for another slice of buttered gingerbread and thought how like her grandfather she was becoming. In the way she looked, of course, not in her personality. The old man had some warmth and humour about him.

‘Don’t worry about that,’ Marcus said. ‘I’ve got someone looking into that poisoning business. Someone discreet. George Palmer-Jones. He’s an ornithologist. Very well respected. If the press get hold of the poisoning story now I can show I’ve taken steps to deal with the matter. Not that there should be any problem with the old girl dying like that.’

She turned to him slowly, back and neck straight despite the weight of hair on her head.

‘Marcus,’ she said, conversationally. ‘You are such a fool.’

Chapter Nine

The police station where George met Inspector Dave Benwell was new. It had been built on the edge of the town, close to the main road to Carlisle and the M6, part of a small trading estate. Immediately opposite was the supermarket where Ursula had been shopping on Friday afternoon. From the outside it could have been a hightech electronics factory. It was the communications centre for the north-west and there were impressive aerials on the roof and a carpark with a line of patrol cars.

George was as impressed by Dave Benwell as the superintendent had said he would be. He was blond and amiable, completely unflappable. Most policemen seemed to work under continuous stress but Benwell was unusually well adjusted. He brought no personal angst or prejudices to the job. If he was ambitious, it did not show and he did not let it affect his judgement. George never learned anything about Benwell’s family – the policeman once mentioned having to get back to the wife and kids but gave no details of either. Perhaps they provided the stability that allowed him to be so relaxed.

Benwell had a desk in a large open-plan office and saw George there. Otherwise the room was empty. He wore jeans and an open-necked shirt. George thought at first that the clothes were making a statement and apologised for disturbing the man on a Sunday afternoon, then realised that there had been no intention to make him feel uncomfortable.