Now Joe’s mind was wandering. He couldn’t see what any of this could have to do with the murder of two women in the twenty-first century, but he imagined the Coble in the 1970s. It would be before all the pits and the shipyards closed. Lads in flared jeans and lasses in hippy skirts. The two small bars filled with smoke and the ceilings brown with nicotine. There would have been more commercial fishing then, and the men would’ve come for a pint straight from the boats, full of talk of their catch and the weather. What would they all have made of Margaret Krukowski? Perhaps the men wouldn’t have cared how she made her living, but some of them would surely have guessed. They’d have seen Margaret’s clients, even if they’d been few in number, out of place in their business suits and clerical collars, knocking at the door of Number One, Harbour Street. They’d have been curious. Would they have wanted some of the action too?

‘Do you fancy going in for a drink?’ he asked. ‘For old times’ sake?’

Susan shook her head immediately. Perhaps she thought that Rick, the landlady’s son, would still be there to jeer at her.

Joe took out the photo album from his inside pocket. ‘Do you recognize anyone here?’

She turned the pages slowly, but nothing registered until she came to the photo of Billy Kerr’s birthday party. ‘That’s Margaret! And Billy and Malcolm.’

‘Anyone else that you recognize?’

‘Val, the landlady.’ She pointed to the big woman.

Joe waited for her to point to Rick, the landlady’s son, but she shut the album without mentioning him. Again he wondered what exactly the boy had done to upset her. ‘Shall we get you back to the Haven?’ He wasn’t sure what good this was doing. He saw a police van pulling in beside Kerr’s yard and wondered what was going on there.

‘Aye,’ she said. ‘But it’s been canny, coming back.’

‘Not too many ghosts?’

She put on her blank, not-understanding face and didn’t reply.

They arrived at the Haven at the same time as Laurie and Jane, and Joe helped to carry in the carrier bags of food.

‘How did it go?’ Jane caught him, just as he was about to get back into the car. There was something complicit in the question, as if they were two professionals comparing notes on a shared case.

But we’re not, he wanted to say. You’re a suspect as much as Susan is. ‘Fine.’ He gave a bland smile. ‘I think she had a good time.’ Then he did get into his vehicle and drove off before she could pry further.

Back in the police station he searched out Vera, found her in the canteen staring into space over a mug of tea. He sat down opposite her. ‘What did you get out of Kerr?’