When Jane returned she was halfway into her coat. ‘That was the girls. They need a lift home. Do you want to stay here and talk to them? You’d be very welcome.’

Vera shook her head and got to her feet. ‘I’m not supposed to do the hands-on stuff. Strategic planning, that’s my role. Not what I came into the job for, though.’

‘Like me.’ Jane was walking through the house to the front door. ‘If I’d stayed in social services I’d have been promoted away from the front line years ago.’

At the vehicles Vera paused. ‘Will you talk to the residents? They trust you, but most of them will have reasons to dislike the police. Any bit of gossip . . . And I’ll send someone round tomorrow to do a more formal interview.’

‘The lovely Joe?’

‘Aye, why not?’ Vera had the Land Rover door open, when she turned back to Jane. ‘Tell your women to keep safe, eh. No wandering around Mardle on their own.’

Jane nodded and drove off. It was dark now and the headlights of the minibus swung across the damp farmland all the way to the road.

The team came together for the evening briefing in Kimmerston police station. More photos on the whiteboard. Dee Robson’s body. No dignity in death and not much more when she was living, Vera thought. The only photo they’d found of her alive was with Margaret Krukowski, taken in a booth, both women grinning. Margaret thirty-five years older, but still more attractive. Poor lass. I know how that feels. Perhaps it had been taken on their shopping trip into Newcastle. They’d found the picture in Dee’s purse, along with four pounds thirty in loose change.

Vera looked out at the team. There was no sign of Joe Ashworth, but it was time to make a start. ‘So what have we got? Two women. Both isolated. Connected through the Haven, where Margaret had been a volunteer, and through geography; they lived two minutes’ walk from each other in Mardle. And by the fact that they were on the same Metro when Margaret was killed. How significant is that? Did they both see something that led to their deaths? Or did Dee recognize Margaret’s killer? Thoughts anyone?’

She looked out into the audience. They seemed sluggish and unresponsive. Holly raised a tentative hand.

‘Hol?’

‘Apart from the geography they don’t have much in common, do they? I mean Margaret was an educated woman. Why would she choose to spend her time with someone like Dee?’ The disdain was obvious and Vera wanted to yell at her. Do you think Dee Robson wanted to live like that? Do you really think she had a choice? But Holly was right, and this wasn’t the time to teach her the facts of life.

‘Good point, Hol. Any ideas?’