Palmer had given himself the task of contacting the company accountant, Marcus Goldman, so that they could check the financial situation the shop was in. Money was often a motive for murder.

DI Palmer sat back in his chair, clicking a biro as he searched the Internet for an address and number for the accounting firm, even though he knew he couldn’t attempt to reach Marcus Goldman until the next of kin had been informed about the death. But Palmer wanted to have all his ducks in a row; so that once Mrs Wade had been told about her husband’s murder, he would be free to crack on with talking to Mr Goldman. The same applied to everyone who worked at the bookshop. Being organised and ready was part of the job and half the battle. And although Palmer wasn’t the most organised individual in the team, his desire to have the case wrapped up by Christmas meant that he was going to do his very best to be on top of such details.

After hanging up the phone to Broadbury Road Police Station in Somerset, Elly sauntered over to Palmer’s desk. She’d always found him attractive and enjoyed his company. She knew only too well that he was a family man, but she figured a little bit of harmless flirting never killed anyone.

‘Somerset Police have a local office to Yoxter, are they’re going to talk to Mrs Wade,’ Elly informed Palmer, while perching on the corner of his desk. He may have been ten years her senior, but she was not intimidated by him.

‘Good. It will be a while before they can get her back to Cambridge, which is a pity.’

‘Yes. Poor woman, having the news broken to her like that. Makes you feel grateful for what you’ve got,’ Elly mused.

‘It does indeed, sergeant.’ Palmer scratched the light stubble on his chin while thinking about his eight-year-old son and wife, who were likely out in the fields by their house building a snowman.

‘The finger is unusual,’ Elly probed, wanting to hear if Palmer had any theories at this early stage.

‘Very odd. The digit hasn’t been found at the scene.’

‘Do you think the killer took it with them?’ Elly’s eyes widened with horror.

‘Too early to say, but…’

‘You think it might be a trophy?’ She realised where his train of thought was going.

‘I didn’t say that.’ Palmer had a slight twinkle in his eye but kept a straight face.

‘If it was a trophy then…’ Elly let the statement hang in the air unfinished.

‘Yes quite, sergeant. That is what I’m worried about.’

Chapter 4

7.49pm Friday 13th December

By the time Mrs Veronica Wade had been delivered to the police station in Cambridge, darkness had fallen and the winter lights around the city shone a soft orange glow on the dense snow, making it sparkle like splinters of amber.