At Daisy Cottage Benjy ran through the rooms, sniffing everywhere, as though checking his position hadn’t been usurped in his absence. Clare busied herself in the kitchen, boiling water for pasta and tipping the contents of a ready-made Bolognese from her favourite deli into a microwave dish. Benjy, having satisfied himself the cottage was still his domain, took up residence below the window where a shaft of sunlight was warming the floor. A ping from Clare’s phone alerted her to a message and she poured boiling water into a saucepan then swiped to read it.

How’s the investigation?

I saw it was top item on the news tonight.

Hope it’s going ok.

Conference is deadly dull.

Missing you.

Al x

She found herself smiling as she read the message. She typed back,

Miss you too, Al.

Early days for investigation.

I guess they’ll send us a DCI.

Don’t suppose you could come back early?

Benjy says Wuff

C x

She waited then saw he was typing a reply. The pasta came to the boil and she stirred it then put the lid on the pan and turned back to her phone. After a few minutes the message appeared.

Hope to be back Wednesday night.

Suspect they’ll send you someone tomorrow.

Can’t mess about with a gunman on the loose, especially when it’s all over the papers.

Better go. Dinner in a few mins then a speaker: ‘The changing nature of policing’

God help me! xxx

She laughed at this. ‘Sometimes,’ she told Benjy, ‘it’s quite nice not to be a DCI.’

He was fully stretched out on the floor now and his tail swished back and forth in response. Then he eased himself up to his feet and wandered over, sniffing at Clare’s legs. She took the hint and opened the cupboard where his food was kept. The sky outside was turning a warm red as the sun sank lower and she decided to have her meal in the garden.

She carried her plate and glass out and, as she ate, her thoughts returned to Lamond Lodge and to Russell Fox’s friends and family, now decamped to the Brodie Hotel. Did one of them know more than they were letting on? Or was Zac Buchanan the key to it all?

In the woods behind the cottage a blackbird began its evening song and her eye was caught by a movement to the side. A bat, darting to and fro, feeding on the insects that hung in the still night air. The sun had dropped behind the trees now and she felt suddenly cold. Gathering up her plate and plastic wine glass she whistled to Benjy and went indoors to wash up.

Day 4: Tuesday

Chapter 17