The discovery that Colin Henshaw could not have killed Alice Parry left Ramsay with a sense of panic. At first he could not think clearly. Perhaps Henshaw had hired someone to commit the murder, he thought, because his commitment to Robson’s theory was so great that he was reluctant to let it go. But that would not work. If Henshaw had not killed Mrs. Parry, Charlie Elliot could have had nothing to blackmail the builder about, and the motive for the second murder disappeared, too. Ramsay had been certain that this evening would mark the end of the investigation, and now it seemed they would have to start at the beginning again and reconsider all the old evidence. Hunter had been right all along, Ramsay thought. This case was about more than a few houses.

In the police house Hunter was almost asleep. His chair was tilted backwards and his feet were on the desk. When Ramsay came into the room, he sat up slowly and stretched.

“Well?” he said. “How did you get on?”

“Henshaw is having an affair with Celia Grey at the farm,” Ramsay said. “He was there on Saturday night, so he couldn’t have killed Alice Parry. He might have murdered Charlie Elliot, but I can’t see what motive he would have had.”

Hunter knew better than to gloat. “At least we’ve eliminated Henshaw from our enquiries then,” he said. “ That’s a positive move.”

“Yes,” Ramsay said. He did not feel positive. “I suppose so.”

“Someone came to talk to you while you were out,” Hunter said. “He wouldn’t speak to me. Tom Kerr. From the garage.” He looked at the desk where he had scribbled notes on an envelope. “He said he’ll be in all evening. On his own. The rest of the family will be out. He seemed to think that was important.”

Ramsay listened absent-mindedly. Now that Robson’s theory of local activists having been put under pressure by Henshaw seemed impossible, he was not sure what useful information Tom Kerr could have.

“He seemed very keen to talk to you,” Hunter said. “A bit tense and strung-up.”

“All right,” Ramsay said. “I’ll go and see him now. Is there anything from the Incident Room?”

“Yes,” Hunter said. “Some bright P.C. thought he saw Mary Raven’s Mini outside the old Cottage Hospital in Otterbridge. God knows what she was doing there.”

“Well, you won’t know,” Ramsay said, “ unless you ask. Go to the hospital and find out. Max Laidlaw is a doctor. Perhaps he’s hiding out there. I’ll meet you in the Incident Room later.”