Vera went on. ‘We have a nightmare forensically. So much material that it’ll take them weeks to work through it. The one blessing is that it’ll keep Billy Wainwright busy throughout the holiday period. Office parties get him over-excited, and he’s too old for that kind of carry-on now.’

There were a few sniggers. Crime-scene manager Billy enjoyed his reputation as a serial adulterer.

‘Most important actions for today: some folk who were on the Metro have already come forward. It was the four-thirty from Newcastle Central Station and it was stopped by the weather at Partington. Margaret was in the first carriage. We need a media release asking everyone else who travelled on the same train to get in touch. Then we’ll put together a plan showing where people were sitting or standing and what they saw.’ She looked out at her audience. ‘Holly, that’s for you. Do the press conference. A broadcast request on BBC’s Look North, if we can manage it. Contact the press office and tell them what we need. Then you take charge of the responses that come in, get a floor plan of the seating arrangements and see what you can put together.’

Holly preened, and Vera patted herself on the back: she was getting better at handling her DC. Holly would love to do the television and would be good at collating the passenger information. If Vera had asked her just to do the paperwork she’d have sulked for a fortnight. Getting her team onside was a piece of piss. Who needed management training?

‘Next. What was Margaret doing in Gosforth? We think she grew up there. Did she have family still living in the area? We’ve checked the records and her maiden name was Nash. Charlie, see what you can track down. She might even have a parent still alive, given the age we all live to these days. Can we check with the Department of Work and Pensions and the care homes in the area? She never talked about her family to folk in Mardle, but the one thing we do know about Margaret is that she was intensely private. She might have been in Gosforth to visit her relatives.’

Charlie nodded. Vera noticed that he was tidier these days. When his wife first left him he could have passed for one of the homeless guys who hung around Kimmerston bus station. She could be less than tidy herself, but she was never dirty. Well, not often. She wondered fleetingly if he’d found himself another woman or if he’d just come to terms with being left to fend for himself. She’d always thought he missed having his laundry done more than he missed his wife’s company.

Vera paused for breath. It was getting light. A bright, icy gleam shone through the window directly into her face and made her squint.