‘Veronica… she’s gone to stay with her sister. Why do you want to know?’ She had no fear asking questions.

‘It is a private matter. Do you have a contact number or an address?’ Palmer had come across old biddies like this before and he knew how to deal with them.

‘Her sister lives in Somerset, I think. What’s happened?’ Her little blue eyes fixed Palmer’s.

‘Do you know where in Somerset, perhaps?’

‘I think near Cheddar. Somewhere like that.’ She tucked her gnarled hands into her off-white dressing gown.

‘Do you have a name for Mrs Wade’s sister by any chance?’ Barrett asked, growing impatient again.

‘Francesca, I think, but don’t know if she’s married or what not.’ The elderly lady ran a hand over her unkempt bed head in an attempt to smooth it.

‘Can I take your name, please?’ Palmer offered his most charming smile.

‘Peggy Wilkinson.’ Her voice remained gruff, but Palmer could tell she was thawing.

‘When was the last time you saw Mr Wade?’ Barrett asked.

‘Oh, it was yesterday morning. He’s very good to me. He helps me put my bins out and it was bin collection day, so he came and knocked.’

‘Did you talk about anything in particular?’ Barrett pressed.

‘The weather mostly. Just chitchat. Why are you asking me about Dennis?’

‘Thank you so much for your time.’ Palmer beamed another smile at her and both men excused themselves, leaving her standing in the doorway, letting in all the cold as she watched them go out of sight.

‘We should have asked her if she has a key for the house. Someone will need to take care of that cat,’ Palmer said looking back at the feline, which was meowing from inside.

‘Let’s track down the sister first, then let’s worry about the bloody moggy.’ Barrett got back into the passenger seat and removed his mobile phone.

‘Where to next, sir?’ Palmer asked starting the ignition and looking forward to the blast of warm air that would soon be blowing in his face.

‘Back to the scene. The SOCOs should be there now and I’d like to watch them work. We’ll leave them to sort out tracking down the sister at HQ.’

‘Convenient perhaps, that Mrs Wade is away,’ Palmer mused.

‘Perhaps.’ Barrett stared out the window watching the rows of white fields going by. Unlike many, he loved the wintertime – partly because he had a tendency to sweat whenever the sun was out and partly because the summer reminded him of happier times with his wife, before she lost her battle with breast cancer, five years earlier.

‘They say this weather is going to last for a few weeks. I hope not,’ Palmer groaned.

‘The cold suits me, Joe. I like it.’

‘Glad someone does, sir,’ Palmer scoffed.