‘I’m sure she could fit you in,’ said Beverley.

‘Did she say if her bees had spotted anything unusual?’

‘Unlike some people, I’m not tactless,’ said Beverley. ‘You just don’t go asking people about their business like that, making assumptions about what they do and how they do it.’ Beverley tapped her finger on her chest. ‘I merely inquired as to whether Mellissa may, or may not have, noticed anything out of the ordinary.’

‘And had she?’

‘She said she couldn’t be sure, but she thinks her boys . . .’

‘Her boys?’ I asked. ‘Are we talking them next door or the buzzy ones?’

‘Her buzzing boys,’ said Beverley. ‘They’ve been avoiding the south-west section of the ridge, from the edge of Bircher Common to where the river is.’

Whatever had killed the mobile phones had been on the edge of that area, and I didn’t need to check my map to know that Stan’s missing stash had been right in the middle.

‘Could she relate it to the missing kids?’

‘If she had, she says she would have told you when you first came.’

‘I can’t go to Windrow or Edmondson with this,’ I said. ‘Even if I persuaded them to change the search area, I don’t think it would be a good idea.’

‘I’m sure she’ll keep her antenna tuned,’ said Beverley. ‘Got any other leads?’

‘Just something I picked up from one of the statements – I’m waiting for Windrow to okay a fresh interview.’

‘In that case, can we—’

My phone rang – it was Dominic.

‘Are you still up at Wyldes?’ he asked.

I told him we were just finishing.

‘One of the search teams found something you might want to look at,’ he said. ‘Just down the road from where you are now.’

‘Is it related to the search?’

‘Honestly,’ said Dominic, ‘I don’t know. I thought you might be able to tell me.’

I may be a city boy, but I’m fairly certain that the greasy purple and red squishy bits are supposed to stay inside the sheep and not be sprayed across a surprisingly large area.

‘Animal attack?’ I asked.

Both Beverley and Dominic gave me pitying looks. Stan, who’d been the one to discover the dead sheep and call in Dominic, actually snorted.

‘Not unless that puma’s come up from Newtown Cross again,’ she said.

We were standing in a large field just off the Roman road near where it crossed the Lugg. The wooded slopes of the ridge rose up to the east and hidden on the reverse side was School Wood and Stan’s late lamented stash. It was even hotter down here in the valley and missing the breeze we’d had up around the Bee House. Nothing really to dispel the smell of rotting sheep.

‘Mind you,’ said Dominic, ‘when it comes to finding new ways to get themselves killed, sheep are bloody geniuses.’