‘I can’t remember whether you asked me how long ago I retired,’ he said, in a more conciliatory tone. Perhaps he, too, was able to recognize that look in Fry’s eye. ‘I’ll tell you anyway – I hit my thirty just over four years ago. Celebrations all round, kind words from the chief, a bunch of the lads getting pissed at the pub. And then I was out of the door, with my pension in my pocket. And no one ever thought of Dave Palfreyman again. I was history as soon as I handed in my warrant card.’

‘Your point is …?’

‘I wasn’t in the job when your murders happened, Sergeant. If they were murders. Do you have direct evidence?’

‘You’re not my DI,’ said Fry.

‘No.’

‘Well, stop talking to me as if you are.’

Palfreyman inclined his head. ‘I apologize. Sergeant.’

An uneasy silence developed. Cooper shifted uncomfortably in his chair, desperately wanting to say something to break the silence, but afraid of wrecking Fry’s strategy. Presuming she had a strategy. But she could keep silent as long as she needed to, and it was Palfreyman who broke the mood.

‘You went to see the Brindleys over at Shaw Farm yesterday, didn’t you?’ he said.

‘Very observant. You know them?’

Palfreyman nodded. ‘Yes, I know them. Alex and Jo. They have two teenage kids, Chrissie and Evan. The parents are kind of snobbish, academically speaking.’

‘They’re a bit fussy who their children mix with?’

‘Fussy? Any kid who wants to visit their house has to take an entrance exam. Stand-offish, the Brindleys are. Stuck up. You probably noticed.’

Fry didn’t smile. ‘You seem to know a lot more about them than they do about you.’

Palfreyman shrugged. ‘That’s the way it is. That’s the way I like it, if the truth be known.’

‘They’re not local people, are they? I mean, they haven’t been in Rakedale very long?’

‘I know what you mean.’ Palfreyman eased himself into his armchair, like an old dog settled into its basket. ‘Well, they’ve lived in the village since they were married. And the oldest kid, Evan, is eighteen. So they must have been here twenty years or so. Not very long, as Rakedale goes.’

‘Twenty years?’

‘As a family, that is.’

He looked at her expectantly, inviting her to ask the next question. No, that wasn’t what she was getting from his expression. He was challenging her. Challenging her to ask the right questions, if she wanted the answers.

‘One of them was here in the village before they married?’ she said. ‘Alex or Jo?’