Vernon shrugged. ‘As far as I’m concerned the whole thing’s over and done with.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘They’re burying his daughter at St Gemma’s Church at four o’clock. I sent a wreath. Could I do more than that?’

‘You did what?’ Miller said incredulously.

Vernon smiled blandly. ‘One does have to do the right thing on these occasions.’

When Miller’s hands came out of their pockets, they were both tightly clenched. For a long, long moment he stood there fighting the impulse to knock Vernon’s teeth down his throat and then he swung on his heel and walked rapidly towards the exit. Behind him, Vernon started to laugh gently.

It was raining quite hard when Miller drove up to St Gemma’s. He parked the Cooper in the main road and went in through the side gate and along a narrow path lined with poplars leading to the cemetery.

He could hear Father Ryan’s voice as he went forward and then he saw them. There were no more than half a dozen people grouped around the open grave and the old priest’s voice sounded brave and strong as the rain fell on his bare head.

Miller moved off the path and stood behind a large marble tomb and after a while, Father Ryan finished and the group broke up. Harriet Craig was crying steadily and moved away in company with Jenny, the young maid, and Father Ryan followed them. Craig was left standing on his own beside the grave and Miller went forward slowly.

‘It wouldn’t work,’ he said softly. ‘It wouldn’t bring Joanna back.’

Craig turned to face him. ‘What are you, a mind reader or something?’

‘I know what happened at the Bull & Bell this afternoon.’

‘I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.’

‘That’s what Vernon said when I called on him. But someone dislocated Harry Parson’s shoulder and broke his nose. Who the hell was that? Mr Nobody?’

Craig looked down into the open grave. ‘She was a nice kid, Sergeant. A lot of dreams gone up in smoke there.’

‘I’m sorry about the wreath,’ Miller said.

Craig turned, frowning. ‘What wreath?’

‘The wreath Vernon sent. God knows where he gets his gall from.’

‘I’m happy to say you’ve been misinformed,’ Duncan Craig said. ‘We’ve certainly received no wreath from Max Vernon.’ As the rain increased into a solid downpour he turned up his collar. ‘You must excuse me now, but Harriet’s taken this afternoon rather hard. I’d like to get her home as soon as possible.’

‘Of course. If there’s anything I can do …’

‘I don’t think so.’ Craig smiled briefly, shook hands and walked briskly away.

Miller watched him until he had disappeared round the side of the church and then he turned and went back to his car.