Barlow asked, in a quiet voice, ‘What are we looking for, sir?’

‘I’m trying to work out why here, why the deed took place here, in the park, in this particular place, these trees.’

‘Right.’

‘Look, I’m Nicholas Graves, OK? You’re his killer. Maybe I asked you here, or maybe you asked me. But this is a meeting place, I’m sure of it.’

‘You mean …’

‘Think it out.’

‘Right. They didn’t meet by chance.’

‘No, of course not. They knew each other, or they knew of each other.’

‘His wallet wasn’t taken.’

‘Exactly. This wasn’t a mugging or anything like that. They met here. By arrangement.’ He turned a full circle. His hand reached out and touched the bark of the nearest tree. ‘Why this place?’

They stood in silence. There was no easy answer.

Barlow took up the thought. ‘Well, didn’t Mr and Mrs Graves live in Richmond all their lives?’

‘She did, definitely. In the same house. I’m not sure where Leonard came from.’

‘But the kids grew up here, so they would know the area well. They knew the park.’

‘We’re close enough, a couple of streets away.’

Barlow nodded. ‘So they probably came here quite a lot when they were young, the three of them.’

‘What are you thinking?’

‘I’m not sure, sir. Just getting things straight in my head. They must have played here, running about.’

Hobbes smiled to himself. ‘I have a wish, a fantasy. I’d like to get a giant bloody digger in here, churn up this soil, uproot the trees and dig down deep, this whole area.’

‘Looking for?’

‘The woman in the blue and yellow dress. Adeline. Her bones.’

‘You think … you think she’s buried here, really?’

‘No, of course not. Well, I doubt it. You can’t just carry a body into Richmond Park and dig a grave. No. But something … something about this place …’ He stopped, and shook his head in frustration. ‘And, anyway, from what I heard today, she might not even be real.’

‘Sir?’

‘What is it?’

‘We’re being watched.’

Hobbes peered into the trees, following the constable’s direction. At first he could see nothing out of the ordinary, but then the branches trembled and a dark shape moved across, from one trunk to the next.

‘Who’s there?’

There was no answer.

Hobbes stepped forward. The figure was now standing perfectly still, half visible amid the tangled web of twigs and branches. It was a man. He was smoking the last of a cigarette. Then he threw down the butt, ground it into the mud and came forward, swaying on his feet a little.

Hobbes cursed. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. ‘Fairfax?’

‘All right, Guv.’ DC Fairfax grinned. He looked ill-kempt, as before, his hair plastered to his skull, his jacket mud-stained, his beard bare in patches, as though eaten away by some creature.

‘What are you doing here, Fairfax?’

‘Same as you, Guv, surveying the scene.’ He was concentrating on each word. ‘This is connected to the dresses you found, yeah?’