‘Some poor sod delivering a parcel. He called his supervisor in a panic and his boss called it in. Uniform have spoken to him and he’s given a statement.’

Bob nodded and went back to working the scene in silence. The small serious look plastered on his face was one that Barrett had seen every time the pathologist had been called out to a crime. Barrett recognised the expression. It was one he often wore himself.

Francesca accompanied Veronica back to the house she had lived in with Dennis. The women got out of the taxi and both stood for a moment, looking at the exterior of 2 May’s Avenue in Balsham. It was the first time Veronica had been home since learning of her husband’s murder. Part of her longed for the comfort of home but part of her dreaded stepping indoors. That soon changed when the face of her cat, Cookie, appeared in the window meowing at them.

Veronica’s eyes filled with tears as she turned the key in the lock on the front door. A pile of unread post lay on the doormat and the jiggling bell on the cat’s collar sounded as the feline bounded towards her and greeted her in the hallway. She picked up her cat and snuggled her face in its fur, enjoying the familiar scent.

Meanwhile, Francesca bustled past making her way towards the kitchen carrying a bag of groceries they had picked up on the way from Cambridge. Francesca had always been the more practical of the two sisters and was determined to let Veronica grieve without having to worry about matters such as whether there was enough milk in the fridge. She felt powerless to do much else, but that was better than nothing.

Once both ladies had settled back into the house, the sisters sat at the kitchen table and had a well-needed cup of tea.

‘It’s good to be home,’ Veronica said, wanting to assure herself as much as her sister. ‘I feel closer to him here.’

‘I can stay for as long as you need me. Doug can cope perfectly well on his own. The neighbours are keeping an eye on him.’ Francesca referred to her husband who remained at their home in Somerset.

‘Thank you, Fran.’ Veronica rested her hand on top of her older sister’s.

‘That is what families are for.’ Francesca removed her hand and put it in her lap. She had never been very comfortable with public displays of affection. ‘So…’ She glared at her sister. ‘What are we going to do about Andrew?’

‘Honestly, I don’t know what to think.’ Veronica’s face fell at the mention of her son’s name.

‘It doesn’t look good, him going missing like that. Did you know he had been in trouble with the police again?’