A Scientific Support van crawled into the field and parked next to the silage bags. Wayne Abbott got out.

‘My God, this took some finding.’

‘Better get the masks out, Wayne,’ said Hitchens. ‘We’re going to need you to take this caravan apart.’

Flood lamps were already up, and a crime-scene tent was going over the caravan.

‘I asked Wayne to bring a gunshot residue kit,’ said Hitchens. ‘I don’t know how this man is connected to Rose Shepherd, but we’re not going to miss anything.’

The latest GSR kit was designed for a presumptive test at the scene, and another in the lab later. Previous tests had involved swabbing the hands of a suspect and sending the swabs to a lab. Since results from the scanning electron microscope took weeks or even months, many officers had saved time by just not bothering with GSR.

‘Negative. Sorry,’ said Abbott a few minutes later.

‘Damn.’

‘There’s hardly any food in this caravan,’ said Cooper. ‘Just cans of beer and half a bottle of vodka. He looks ill, too.’

‘Dead people usually do,’ said Hitchens.

‘Not always.’

The DI ran a hand across his forehead. ‘No, you’re right, Ben.’

Cooper took a walk around the field where the caravan was sited. There were lots of gaps in the drystone walls, easy enough for anyone to get in or out of the area without having to come down the track or past the farmhouse.

‘If the farmer can be believed, Simon Nichols lived a quiet, reclusive life and was hardly seen in daylight, except when he was working.’

‘Great,’ said Hitchens. ‘He’s already starting to sound like Rose Shepherd.’

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

‘You see what I meant about not being able to cut yourself off completely?’ Fry said later, when she had Cooper and Murfin together in the CID room.

‘Miss Shepherd, you mean?’ said Cooper.

‘Of course. She not only had the postman, the meter reader, and God knows who else coming by the house, but she was forced to have Eric Grice in to do a few odd jobs, the repairs she couldn’t manage.’

‘I wonder if he was handy for a few really odd jobs,’ said Murfin.

Fry gave him a look. ‘She had to take a gamble on Eric, didn’t she?’ she said. ‘It must have been a toss-up whether to get a complete stranger in every time she needed something doing, or to stick to one local man. She must have known Eric would talk about her in the village, but she decided a bit of gossip was preferable to having people in the house she knew nothing about. At least she could be sure that Eric was the genuine article.’

‘Yes, she had to let someone a little way into her life,’ said Cooper. ‘I wonder if Mr Grice realizes how privileged he was.’