‘You think he’s lying?’

‘People do, pet. He’s got a motive, hasn’t he? If he’s found the love of his life at his age, the last thing he’d want is Margaret Krukowski spoiling it for him.’ Vera spotted a smear of melted cheese on her sweater and tried to scrape it off. ‘Let’s dig around in the past of Mr Booth and see what else we can find. Charlie, that’s the rest of your day taken care of.’

The new, happier Charlie didn’t even pull a face.

‘And it would be useful to track down other people who knew Margaret all those years ago.’ Vera wasn’t sure what to make of the new information about Krukowski, couldn’t make up her mind if it was relevant or a distraction. ‘Any suggestions?’

‘An old lady, a neighbour of Dee’s in Percy Street, talked about one of Margaret’s admirers.’ Joe looked up from his notes. ‘A lad called Ricky Butt. He’d be in late middle age now, but he might remember her. His mother was landlady at the Coble.’

Vera remembered the portrait over the bar. ‘Check that out too, will you, Charlie? See if you can get an address for him.’

‘How did you get on with George Enderby?’ Joe was impatient. Now that they’d finished eating he thought they should be working, not sitting around chatting. The Protestant work ethic again.

‘Hol, what did you make of him?’ Holly sulked if she didn’t get her share of the limelight, and it was only fair that she should get a chance to express her opinion. She’d discovered that Enderby had been lying to them.

‘I thought he was a bit pathetic actually. He didn’t even like his wife, so why make such a fuss when she decided to leave him?’ Holly stretched. Vera thought she was too young to feel the real pangs of isolation. It wouldn’t occur to her, so youthful and healthy, that she might die alone.

‘Is Enderby a potential murderer, do you think?’

‘Well, he had opportunity, didn’t he? If you check the timeline, he was in Mardle early enough to be on the Metro with Margaret, and until we check his alibi with Craggs we only have his word for it that he was away from the area when Dee Robson was killed.’

‘Motive?’

A silence. ‘He’s weird, right?’ Holly said. ‘And he hates women.’

But Vera knew that wasn’t enough. ‘You don’t remember seeing him on the Metro, Joe?’

‘Nah, but it was packed. Doesn’t mean he wasn’t there.’ A pause. ‘In the wheelie suitcase, the one he usually carried books in, there was a change of clothes. Waterproof jacket, jeans, boots. Worth taking them in for testing? Just in case of blood spatter. Be interesting to see his reaction when we ask, anyway.’