The walk ended up back at the North Light, as Fran had known it would. Perez would want to talk to Sandy; he couldn’t take a whole day away from the investigation. The place was quiet, the common room empty. In the kitchen they found Sarah Fowler, scrubbing away at a roasting tin too grubby and too big for the dishwasher. She stood at the big sink, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, again wearing one of Jane’s aprons. There were soapsuds on one cheek. When she heard them behind her she turned round, anxious for a moment.

What is it with that woman? Fran thought. Does she enjoy playing the martyr? The pathetic little wifey? Then she thought: Of course they’ll all be jumpy. If I were staying here, I’d be just the same.

Sarah gave a little smile. ‘Your colleague’s in the bird room.’

Perez nodded but stayed where he was. ‘How’s everything going?’

‘Fine.’ Satisfied at last that the roasting tin was clean, she set it upside down on the draining board. ‘Actually, it’s a dreadful thing to say, but it seems more relaxed here without Angela and Poppy.’ She frowned. ‘I miss Jane though.’

‘Did you get a chance to talk to her much?’ Perez leaned against the workbench. Inviting confidence. If I were a murderer I’d confess to him, Fran thought. I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I’d want so much to please him.

‘A bit,’ Sarah said. ‘She was a great listener. She didn’t give away a lot about herself.’

‘You had no impression that Jane felt scared, threatened?’

Sarah gave herself time to think, squeezed out the dishcloth and hung it over the long tap.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Nothing like that.’

In the bird room Sandy was talking on his mobile. Fran could tell it wasn’t work. Some woman, she thought, confirmed when he began to blush. There was always some woman.

‘Rushed off your feet, Sandy?’ Perez said. ‘What have you got for me?’

Sandy kicked his legs off the desk and gulped the tea remaining in the mug in his left hand. ‘Not much. I’ve talked to all the field centre residents now. Nobody admits to seeing Jane Latimer once she left the lighthouse on the day she died.’

‘Someone’s lying then. Because one of them slashed her with a knife and left her bleeding.’

‘Could it not be one of the islanders? I mean this bunch, they all seem kind of civilized.’

Watching Perez, Fran saw him jump in to reject the idea immediately, then reconsider.

‘Someone staying in the field centre killed Angela Moore,’ he said. ‘But you’re right. It’s important to keep an open mind. Anyone on the Isle could have murdered Jane. Is there anything from the search team yet? They haven’t found the knife?’