Christopher had threatened Randall Cummings with a post-mortem to warn him off more than anything else. To show him that he was not trusted, that he could not take the law into his own hands. If he were going to carry out his threat he could not put off ringing the coroner any longer. He’d known Monty Loveday for many years. Perhaps he could arrange a post-mortem with the minimum of fuss. Not raise too many eyebrows, just in case it proved negative.

Monty was not a golfer. Neither was he keen on shopping with his wife. Old cars were his thing, and Christopher was fairly confident of catching him at home on a Saturday, even if he would not be best pleased to be dragged away from his Wolseley with hands covered in oil.

‘Monty, I’m sorry to bother you on a Saturday.’

‘Christopher, the car’s in bits and I can’t get to the bottom of the fuel problem, so to be perfectly honest I’m glad of the break.’

Christopher could picture him in his green overalls with Castrol emblazoned on the left breast, like some ageing racing driver making a long-overdue pit stop. Monty was tall and gangling, a fifty-year-old man with the body of an adolescent, all the better for reaching the inner recesses of the 1938 Wolseley, Twenty-Five Super Six Series III, which rejoiced under the name of Veronica.

‘Bit of advice, Monty.’

‘Oh, that sounds ominous.’

‘I’ve got a death that I’m a bit suspicious about. I was wondering of you could authorize a PM.’

‘How suspicious?’

‘Well, the cause of death was thought to be accidental, but I’m not certain.’

Monty sounded serious. ‘Christopher, you know as well as I do that if you think that death was in suspicious circumstances then you should be talking to to police, not to me.’

‘I know.’

‘So?’

‘I don’t want to make ripples if there’s no need. But I just want to satisfy myself that the death was due to an accident, nothing else.’

‘Christopher, I’d like to help. But I really don’t see how I can. Not without involving the police.’

‘Of course. No.’

‘Is it anybody I know?’

‘Reggie Silverwood.’

‘Oh, poor Reggie. Very sad. But straightforward surely? You don’t really think his death was suspicious do you?’

‘I don’t know. I just wanted to be certain.’

‘Christopher, I know you were very fond of the old boy, but from what I’ve heard his death was an open and shut case. Had a heart attack, didn’t he? Ended up in a ditch. How could his death be suspicious?’

‘I’m not sure. Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I’m clutching at straws.’

Monty sounded puzzled. ‘I’m getting the feeling you’re not telling me everything, Christopher.’