‘Aha.’ Worthington snapped to attention, as if they’d been playing some kind of game and she had just chanced an answer. His voice had a pinched tone that made it sound as if he’d inhaled helium, but the effects were just wearing off. ‘I’ve been keeping an eye on these properties for my son, David. He’s in the game, see, been on Homes Under the Wotsit three times. This whole row’s been empty for years, and he’s always busy, but finally I managed to get him interested in renovating them ’cause, truth be told, they’re a blinking eyesore.’

‘Sorry.’ She cut him off. ‘I meant how did you come to find the body?’

The old man clicked his tongue. ‘This is the effing story. You want to hear it or not?’

Hawkins felt her eyebrows rise, but managed not to bite him. ‘Yes, we do.’

‘Fandabbydozy.’ Their witness pouted; a figurative chest puff to accompany a moment’s thought, before going on. ‘As I was saying, these houses belong to the lady what owns all this land, but a few months back, hubby pops his clogs and they go up for sale. My boy puts in a cheeky offer, which gets accepted, and everything begins to roll. Then out of nowhere the old girl goes doolally, I mean the full flipping ticket, and the whole thing grinds to a halt because she’s no longer of sound mind. Now we’re waiting for one of her kids to get power of attorney so we can carry on.’

Hawkins nodded, wishing he would get to the point.

‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘being so close, I said I’d watch the houses for David, look out for squatters and vandals, what have you. But no one really comes out here, so I don’t see nothing.’ He leaned even nearer, making Hawkins shift her weight on to her heels. ‘Until yesterday morning, when I happen to glance out my kitchen window around eleven thirty, catch sight of a man walking past here, right where your lorry is now. Anyway, I expect him to walk straight by, but instead he turns and disappears into the second house. Nothing to stop him.’ He pointed at the doorless hole the SOCO had just gone in. ‘So, I’m straight on the phone to the estate agent, saying someone’s down here, asking if they’re taking viewings on the sly. They claim to know nothing about it, of course; say the bloke’s bugger all to do with them. I make ’em promise to tell the owners, fully expecting to be ignored.’

Hawkins made a mental note to get contact details for both the estate agent and the landowners. Obviously, Worthington had them, but this was already taking an age, and he was talking again.