‘I’ve been given the name of a retired bobby who lives near here,’ said Fry. ‘Palfreyman, he’s called. Now, if he’s an old-style copper, he could be a very good bet to know all about the Suttons. Well, as much as anyone here does.’

‘Where does he live?’

‘Hollowbrook Cottage, the landlord of the pub said. It should be up this same road.’

‘I see it,’ said Cooper, with his finger on the map. ‘We can do both together quite easily.’

‘You know what? I think you can take the ex-bobby, Ben,’ said Fry.

‘Oh, thanks. Is that because you think I’m the best person for the job, then?’

‘Yes. Well … that, and the length of the drive up to his house. Someone is going to get wet.’

Some retired coppers chose to run pubs. They wanted to stay busy, they said, so they kept themselves close to the public – and sometimes a bit too close to the alcohol, as well. But ex-Police Constable David Palfreyman had hit his thirty and retired to his garden. He had a decent-sized patch behind Hollowbrook Cottage. It was a well-kept property that had been carefully modernized, and lots of money had been pumped into its appearance. Palfreyman’s cottage would be worth a packet by the time he had to sell it to pay for his medical and social care in old age.

Right now, though, Palfreyman looked robustly healthy. He was a big man, a couple of inches over six feet and keeping his muscles from sagging too much by regular physical activity. Like other balding men who spent a lot of time outdoors, he had to wear a hat to avoid the damage the weather could do to his head, summer or winter. The former constable had chosen a dilapidated fedora that flopped low at the brim, shielding his eyes from the rain.

He met Cooper at the gate, having seen him coming up the length of his drive. He seemed genuinely pleased to see Cooper’s warrant card, which was a rare event. And, for the first time that day, Cooper was invited in.

On the doorstep, Palfreyman paused and pointed out a passing car. ‘That’s Mary Greenhalgh, on her way to pick up the kids from school. If you watch, there’ll be a blue Vauxhall go by in a couple of minutes. That will be her boyfriend.’

‘Boyfriend?’

‘Lover, if you like. He visits Mary in the afternoons, then they leave the house separately – she goes off to fetch the kids, and he drives off in the other direction, turns round and comes back. I think he lives near Buxton.’

Just as Palfreyman had predicted, a blue Vauxhall went by, driven by a man with fair hair who was straightening his tie with one hand.

‘Do you know everything that goes on around here?’