‘Pete said she went to visit her friend after leaving your place. He didn’t half sound angry. Apparently, she came home with her tail between her legs just after lunch. Seems she was cross when she left your place, after all that business with Toni, so she went to her friend Gina’s house, and the two of them ended up in a pub. Kim lost her mobile and when she got back to Gina’s place she was too drunk to call home.’

‘That silly girl!’ Marion couldn’t decide if she was relieved or livid. In truth, she felt a bit of both.

‘She’s safe and sound and that’s what matters,’ Barbara stated, putting the conversation to bed.

‘I don’t half feel daft now,’ Marion admitted.

‘You’re a good friend. You were just worried.’

‘I’m a silly old woman.’

‘Don’t be so hard on yourself, love.’ Barbara patted her friend’s shoulder. ‘It’s frightening when someone is killed so close to where you live. Not surprising you were thinking all sorts. Unnerving, is what it is.’

‘Aye,’ Marion said wistfully. ‘Well, it’s a relief knowing Kim is safe, but all that means is some other poor family can expect a call from the police sometime soon.’

3

4.40pm 22 June

Gerald was in the shed when he heard the distant sound of the doorbell. He rubbed his hands on his jeans, wiping earth from them, as he made his way across the small semi-paved garden and into the house.

‘Just coming,’ he grumbled, as a loud knock shook the white plastic rim of the front door.

Standing on the other side were two suited men. Around their necks hung lanyards. Both looked solemn and official.

‘Can I help you?’ Gerald asked, clearing his throat. The smell of earth still tickled his nostrils.

‘Mr Gerald Jones?’

‘Yes.’ Gerald felt the blood drain from his face. This wasn’t good. Whatever this was.

‘I’m DCI Barrett and this is DI Palmer. Can we please come in for a moment, sir?’

‘Why?’

‘It’s a sensitive matter, sir. It would be much better if we went inside.’ DI Palmer, who hadn’t spoken, didn’t look Gerald in the eye. He peered out into the street, looking at anyone who stopped to be nosy, warning them off with his cold stare.

‘Yes.’ Gerald stepped back, letting the officers into the small house and closing the door behind them. ‘Go through into there,’ he gestured with a shaking dirty hand.

The small, badly lit, but clean, living room was hot and stuffy.

‘We think you should take a seat, sir,’ DCI Barrett continued. Gerald did as he was told, his balding head glistening with sweat.

‘What’s going on?’

‘We are here about your wife, sir. Is your wife Mrs Toni Jones?’ DI Palmer stood stiffly in a corner, looking at the ornaments on the mantelpiece.

‘What about her?’ Gerald’s voice quivered.