As he took stock of the premises, noting the modest gentrification – a broad gravel driveway, a well-kept lawn, and a decent 4x4 outside – the dark-blue front door opened. Out came Leo Turner, carrying a rubbish bag which he took around to a bin at the side of the house.

‘OK,’ Joe said, reaching for his notebook and quickly finding Turner’s number, ‘who’s betting…’

He watched as Turner stopped, searching his pockets for his phone, then stared at the screen for a second.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi, this is Detective Romano, Leeds CID. We met yesterday.’

‘Ah, yes. You abandoned me in the library.’

‘Call of duty, I’m afraid. Murders, they’re unpredictable.’

‘Yes, I suppose they are. Your no-show yesterday gave me pause, so I spoke to some people. The League is happy to supply you with a full list of members. I can email it over to you.’

‘I’m in the area, as it happens. I can pop round. Are you at home?’

‘I’m afraid not. Don’t know when I’ll be back either. I’m spending the day with my mother.’

‘And where would that be?’

‘Derbyshire. Really, I think email would be the best bet. I might be very late back tonight.’

Joe was too tired to bother replying. He ended the call and got back in the car. He was about to turn the ignition on. Then he changed his mind.

He tapped WhatsApp, while with his other hand he got his notebook and found her number.

Hello. DS Romano here. We met yesterday in Cleckheaton Library? I’m doing some background interviews today. I wondered whether you might be available at some point in the afternoon for a chat? If not, perhaps tomorrow? Thanks in advance, Joe Romano.

He’d never been comfortable with the abbreviated language of digital messaging. He liked the flow and feel of full sentences. It was a more respectful form of language, somehow gentler.

He threw his phone onto the passenger seat and looked at Turner’s country cottage.

‘Right, here I come.’

The door had a brass knocker in the shape of a clenched fist. Joe made good use of it. When Turner appeared, he looked surprised, then a little embarrassed.

‘Ah…’

‘You got back sharpish!’ Joe said, all smiles. ‘Can I?’

It wasn’t a question. He walked straight into the house. The door gave onto a large open-plan living room which retained the best of the building’s original features, enhanced by heavy, traditional furniture and several large sofas of considerable age and quality. There was music playing in the background.

‘The Brandenburg Concertos,’ he said, noting the aroma of a log fire.

‘Classic FM,’ said Turner, following Joe in and closing the door. ‘I had planned a day of quiet reflection, hence my small subterfuge. I do apologize. Anyway, now that you’re here, let me get those lists for you.’