Strands of tinsel glittered over his head as he passed through the door into the bar, expecting one of those silences that descended whenever a stranger walked into the saloon in a Western film. In here, Fry would have been pretty much a woman with two heads. He bet everyone had stared at her, but no one would have been willing to catch her eye. There were some situations where her approach didn’t necessarily work.

The men in the bar were quiet as Cooper walked in. He greeted the sheepdog, which was the only one to acknowledge him, and went to the bar. At least there was a nice open fire, which was useful while he observed the customary wait. At his feet was a brick step up to the bar, and a bowl of water for customers’ dogs.

Cooper always looked at the beer pumps in a pub – they could tell you so much about the customers. Real ale or keg, lager or Guinness? Here, they had Black Sheep, Ruddles, and Baboushka spiced ale from one of the Derbyshire breweries, Thornbridge. There was also M & B Mild, a drink that was definitely out of fashion in the trendy bars back in town.

‘Cooper, did you say?’ asked Ned Dain.

‘Yes, DC Cooper, from Edendale.’

‘And you work with that woman sergeant that came in the other day?’

‘Yes.’

‘Was your dad a bobby?’

‘Yes, he was.’

‘OK, I get it now.’

Dain laughed as he moved along the bar to serve a customer. It was a slightly disturbing laugh that he had, a sound like the deep, wet gurgle from one of his own beer pumps.

‘Oh, and tell that sergeant from me there’s no Billy,’ called Dain. In the corner, a man with a beard laughed.

‘Billy?’ said Cooper.

‘Just our joke. There never was any such person as Billy Sutton.’

Puzzled, Cooper opened his mouth to put another question, but the landlord interrupted him.

‘You ought to talk to the old lady,’ said Dain. ‘My mother. She’ll remember the stuff you want to ask about.’

‘How do you know what I want to ask about?’ said Cooper.

‘Talk to the old lady,’ repeated Dain. ‘You’ll find her through there. And shut the door behind you.’

The old lady seemed to have her own sitting room off the kitchen, where she could supervise what was going on through the open door without taking her eyes off the TV for too long. Cooper entered her lair respectfully, conscious that he was being studied critically. The first impression he made might be crucial, the one factor that could make Mrs Dain decide whether to open up to him or keep her mouth firmly shut, the way so many people in Rakedale were doing.