‘They can.’ Kelly smiled, waiting to be let in.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, come in. I’ll make tea.’ The elixir of all British ills awaited them as it did in most homes friendly to a police presence: and that wasn’t all of them. It was a good start. They went in and Sandra closed the door behind them. She shuffled past them and led them down the hall. She stopped outside a closed door and turned to them both.

‘He’s taken it badly. He just sits and chews it over and over.’ Sandra looked pained and Kelly understood. It was completely normal behaviour and she hoped they’d get something out of him. For now, anyone who knew Mary was a suspect who had to be ruled out.

‘Of course. It’s only to be expected.’

Sandra nodded again, then opened the door. ‘Love, it’s the police. They’re detectives, don’t worry, I know you’ve told them all before, but they’re not in uniform.’

Kelly and Rob waited to be shown in. As they were ushered into the room by Sandra, they were met with a pleasant aroma: incense. It took Kelly back to university and her grubby room on campus. Incense was used to mask the scent of body odour or drugs, but she doubted this was the case here. A window was open and so the smell mingled with fresh air and it was invigorating. Soft music played gently in the background. The room was a haven of calm.

Fred O’Reilly stood with effort. His face bore the strain of somebody grieving. He looked older than his sixty-seven years written in her notes, but then the bereaved always aged rapidly. They must have been close, was her first thought. She extended her hand and Fred took it, shaking it firmly.

‘Detective Inspector Kelly Porter.’

Rob did the same.

‘Is this your bodyguard?’ Fred showed a little humour and Kelly smiled.

‘Absolutely. He’s also Detective Constable Rob Shawcross.’

‘What did your mother feed you? Home grown I’ll bet. We grow all our own.’ Fred extended his hand to the window and Kelly presumed he meant their back garden. They sat down.

‘Absolutely, sir, everything cooked the old fashioned way,’ Rob answered and Kelly saw Fred O’Reilly relax a little.

Kelly gave Fred a few minutes to gather himself. Sometimes, witnesses liked to begin their own narrative. Some didn’t. Fred clasped his hands together and began talking.

‘She was a fine woman. I can’t think who’d want to hurt her. She had no enemies. None at all. Her animals were noisy, I believe, but that’s not reason enough is it? She bothered no one. She helped anyone who came to her.’

‘Who came to her for help?’ Kelly asked.

‘All sorts, I suppose.’

‘Members of your group?’