‘Who is it, San?’ Fred hollered. He came into the hallway and stopped, deflated at the sight of two well-dressed professionals who looked like coppers or lawyers. Kate made introductions again and Fred recognised Rob, whose stature was fairly unmissable. They shook hands.

‘Something new?’ he asked.

Rob nodded. ‘Can we sit down? I see you have guests still here, we didn’t put them off?’

Fred sighed. ‘I would have organised it another day if I’d known. Besides, you lot made it clear that they were to be interviewed again, which I think has finished.’

‘Investigations don’t work like that I’m afraid,’ Kate said. ‘We never know from one hour to the next what might come in, and finding Mary’s killer is our absolute priority, now that we have another woman killed in the area.’

‘What?’ Sandra and Fred said in unison.

‘You’re not aware? Perhaps you haven’t listened to the news? The journalist, Carry Tomlin, was found dead by the shore of Thirlmere this morning. It’s a homicide investigation.’

‘Oh my goodness, Fred, that’s the one who wrote the article about us all! What’s going on? What’s happening?’ Sandra asked. She was visibly upset; her face flushed and she put her hand to her chest.

‘Turn the TV on, San,’ Fred said. Sandra got up and lifted a tablecloth away from a cupboard and opened the wooden doors, grateful for something to do. She found a remote control and flicked on the machine, searching for a local news channel. It didn’t take long. A report showed an area beside Thirlmere reservoir sealed off with police tape and crawling with officers. Images of an older couple (who turned out to be Carry Tomlin’s grieving parents) were shown, with photographers hounding them outside their house in Ambleside.

‘We’re aware that you weren’t fond of her views,’ Rob asked. Fred looked at his wife and spread his hands.

‘I admit it. I was livid when I read the twaddle she’d printed about people like us. I don’t know where she got her information from.’

‘Do you know anyone else who expressed anger over her work? We believe she might have been meeting someone posing as a potential source of information.’

‘Golly. A lot of people I should think,’ Fred said. ‘I’m sorry, it was poor journalism and a shoddy representation of who we are.’

‘We understand. Could you give us a brief summary of your movements between eleven a.m. yesterday and this morning?’

Fred and Sandra looked at one another and shook their heads. Then they nodded. Kate knew they understood. They’d vocalised anger towards the woman, and they’d probably been overheard, so they had to be ruled out. Any evidence of passion towards a victim of homicide had to be properly investigated.