‘I don’t think it went out of fashion exactly, sir. It’s just stopped being compulsory these days.’

Sutton scowled. ‘Well, I don’t live in “these days”, do I? I live in the past. That’s what everyone always tells me. And why not? Maybe the past was a better time, and a better place.’

‘Even when evil things happened?’

Cooper felt the old man’s glare becoming more angry and more aggressive.

‘You’re trying to trap me,’ he said.

‘No, sir. I just want to understand what happened at the farm. Two women died, and that’s wrong. I think you know who was responsible. Don’t you want to see justice done?’

‘Follow justice and justice alone, so that you may live and possess the land the Lord your God is giving you. Cursed is the man who withholds justice from the alien, the fatherless or the widow. Then all the people shall say, “Amen!”’

Sutton’s words faded away into a tired squeak, and his head began to nod. Within moments, he was asleep in his chair.

Cooper shook his head in defeat. Raymond Sutton was like a man who’d been parachuted in from another century. He might have learned to accept cars and television, but he still clung to his set of Victorian beliefs as if they were a life raft. Even his voice seemed to have rusted over from neglect.

Only Mr Brindley was at home today, not the rest of the family. There must be a second car if his wife was out, because the Range Rover still stood, gleaming, on the drive.

‘Well, we’d been talking about it between ourselves the night before, turning it over in our minds,’ said Brindley when Fry asked him about his information on Elder. ‘And when we saw the temporary police office in the village, we felt obliged to call in, as good citizens. I hope it was the right thing to do.’

‘Certainly. That’s what it was sited there for, sir. I’m glad you felt able to come forward. Not many people in Rakedale have.’

‘Well, I’m not surprised. I suppose the village people are rather clannish, aren’t they? They want to stand by their own. But we’re already outsiders, you see, so it doesn’t matter what we do or say. It will hardly make any difference to our relations with our neighbours, will it?’

‘I wouldn’t be too sure, you know,’ said Fry, thinking of the incident of the crows in the bedroom. That had been in this very house, hadn’t it? She couldn’t know whether Jo Brindley had told her husband about it, so she didn’t mention it.

‘What do you mean, Sergeant?’

‘It might be advisable to check your security measures. Just in case word gets out and somebody takes exception.’