There was a silence. Through the kitchen window Ramsay saw the elderly gardener push a barrow of dead leaves over the patio towards the compost heap.

“I’m sorry to have upset you,” Ramsay said. “ It’s been a difficult time for everyone. Could you answer a few more questions?”

She nodded.

“It’s about your husband’s business,” Ramsay said. “I’m a layman and there are some points in the planning procedure that I don’t quite understand. Quite often the local council rejects his plans, but Mr. Henshaw always seems to win an appeal. Can you explain how he does that?”

She looked at him suspiciously, thinking that the question had some deeper significance.

“He’s clever,” she said. “ He knows what the planning inspector will accept.” Then she smiled. “ Besides, he’s a lot of important contacts.”

“Yes,” Ramsay said. “I’m sure he has. I wanted to ask you about that. Did he ever discuss his contacts with you? In Brinkbonnie, for example, did he have someone to help him here?”

She shook her head. “I can’t help you,” she said quickly.

“You’ll have to talk to Colin. I don’t know anything about his business. I told that reporter the same.”

“Oh,” Ramsay said. “ Has Mary Raven been bothering you again?”

“Yes,” Rosemary Henshaw said, glad of the change of subject. “Nosy little madam. She was here today calling for Colin. I told her he didn’t want to talk to her. She said it would be good publicity for his business. I told her he was doing well enough. He didn’t need her sort of publicity.”

“When was she here?” Ramsay asked.

“Not very long ago,” she said. “Just before I started my lunch. I’m surprised you didn’t see her on the road.”

She stood up and began to fuss with coffee, searching in a tin for biscuits. But Ramsay did not want to prolong the interview. He had learned enough.

“Will you tell Mr. Henshaw that I’ll be in the police house in the village until this evening,” he said as he left. “There might be something he wants to tell me.”

Then he went out, striding down the drive and the Otterbridge Road through Brinkbonnie, walking in the middle of the street so that the people hiding behind their net curtains would not miss him. He wanted everyone to see him make his way to the police house. He was convinced that someone in the village had information for him.

Chapter Twenty-Two

In the police house Hunter was coordinating the search for Max Laidlaw.

“We should find Mary Raven,” Ramsay said. “ I’m sure he was having an affair with her. She’ll lead you to him. She’s been in Brinkbonnie today.”

“What has she been doing here?” Hunter was hardly interested. That bloody woman, he thought. Ramsay’s obsessed with her.

“She wants to speak to Henshaw. Something to do with a story.”