‘So,’ she said. ‘Margaret Krukowski. How far have we got?’ She thought this was the happiest she could be. An intricate case and a beer. And someone to share her ideas with: Joe Ashworth, whose wife had ambitions for him and who could move with promotion at any time. Was it only possible truly to enjoy something if you knew there was a danger that it might be taken away?

‘Margaret Krukowski.’ Ashworth repeated the name like the chorus of a song. ‘Kept herself to herself. Why? Because she valued her privacy or because she had something to hide?’

‘George Enderby, that rep who stays at the guest house, thinks she was a spy during the Cold War.’

‘Nah!’ Joe shook his head. ‘This is domestic, isn’t it? Personal. Or some random, delusional crazy on the train. Not political.’

‘Aye,’ she said. ‘I think you’re right.’ But she didn’t believe in the random loony theory, either. He’d been right first time. This was personal.

‘We know that Malcolm Kerr, the boatman, hasn’t been telling us the whole truth.’ Vera had liked Kerr. She could understand his drinking and his desperation. But she disapproved of witnesses who weren’t straight with her. ‘He drives a Golf that matches the description of the car that dropped Margaret at the Haven. And he got back to Mardle earlier than he told me. The discrepancy in timing could have been a genuine mistake, but there was something going on between him and Margaret. Why not tell me that he’d given her a lift that day, otherwise?’

‘Should we bring him in?’ Joe finished his beer and set the bottle on the floor. ‘He might be a bit more forthcoming in a formal interview, under caution?’

Vera thought of the man she’d met in the shed in the boatyard. In the bare interview room of the police station he’d be angry and frightened and he would shut down completely. And she didn’t want lawyers involved at this stage. ‘Let’s leave it for a day,’ she said. ‘I’ll try him again on home territory.’

They sat in silence. Vera wondered if she needed anything else to drink and decided against it. ‘I’d like you to go and see the priest,’ she said. ‘Peter Gruskin. Margaret was a regular at the church and he’s a trustee at the Haven. He didn’t take to me. Maybe he just doesn’t like strong women. If there was anything going on between Margaret and Kerr, there’d have been gossip in a place like Mardle. He’d have heard about it. All those old women bitching as they made tea and polished the silver. Make it clear to him that he’s doing no favours to Margaret by keeping her secrets now.’

Joe nodded.