‘As long as we can go and sit in the pub while you do it, Ben,’ she said. ‘Then at least I won’t have to sit here twiddling my thumbs.’

Fry was back in the office when she took Cooper’s call. While picking mince pie crumbs from the carpet next to her desk, she listened carefully to his account of his visit to The Oaks.

‘And what was it that made you go there this morning, Ben? I didn’t quite understand that part.’

‘It was the baptism service, Diane. “To follow Christ means dying to sin.”’

‘I’m not big on the Bible, Ben. I’ve read it, of course. But I always tended to skip the miracles and go for the begetting, and the killing of the first born.’

‘That wasn’t what I meant.’

Fry decided to leave it at that. Some things were always going to be inexplicable. It was the nature of communication between human beings. Or between her and Ben Cooper, anyway.

‘So what did this sweet old lady tell you?’ she asked.

‘A lot of stuff that wasn’t relevant,’ admitted Cooper.

‘Oh, surprise me.’

‘But I think there were a few snippets that might be of interest. I’ll need to check them out, of course. Get some corroboration.’

‘In case Granny is just wandering in her mind, as I warned you.’

‘I don’t think she was. She seemed quite lucid, though a bit too talkative.’

There was a burst of noise in the background – laughter, female. Fry tried to picture the scene, but couldn’t quite fill it in. She could see Cooper himself, sitting perhaps with a drink in front of him, casual and relaxed, surrounded by his friends. In Fry’s mind, the friends were many, but vague and faceless.

‘Go on, then, Ben.’

‘Well, according to Mrs Greatorex, there was more going on at Pity Wood Farm than farming. She said there were often too many people there – far more than there should be on a farm, and not always at harvest time. It would confirm the impression I got from the farm accounts. And they weren’t always men, she says. Mrs Greatorex claims everybody knew this.’

‘So the Three Wise Monkeys are exactly what I thought, then.’

‘See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil?’

‘Yes …’ Fry hesitated. ‘No – that isn’t quite right, is it? They’re just sticking to the third part.’

‘Meaning they must have seen and heard things. They’re just not willing to talk about them.’

‘Right. That’s the way people are around here, isn’t it?’

Somebody seemed to be speaking to him now, distracting him from the call. Fry had the impression that he might have put his hand over the mouthpiece for a moment to muffle the conversation with his friends.