Upstream, a fallen tree trunk was caught on the edge of the weir. It jerked from side to side as the flow of water hit it, dead boughs thrashing like a man drowning in the foam. It must have been drawn into the current from the opposite bank, or it would have been carried away into the water channel that fed the mill wheel.

Inside the shopping village, Frances Birtland had just arrived and was taking off her coat.

‘My neighbour?’ she said. ‘Rose Shepherd?’

‘You don’t remember your neighbour coming in on Saturday?’

‘No. Did she come in? How embarrassing. But I saw so little of her, that I suppose I didn’t recognize her.’

‘Your colleague Mrs Hooper recognized her from her photograph in the papers.’

Mrs Birtland shook her head. ‘I don’t read the papers very much. They’re always so depressing, aren’t they?’

‘But you were definitely here all that afternoon?’

‘Of course. Did Eva say different?’

‘No.’

A customer was hovering behind him, and Cooper stood back for a moment. He took the opportunity to check out the stock on the central display units. He prided himself on his observation, but he’d completely missed the wooden toys last time he was here.

Cooper picked one up. It wasn’t a dinosaur, but the wood looked the same as the toy that Fry had shown him, and the style of carving was identical.

He looked at Frances Birtland, who was smiling at him, hoping for a sale.

‘Where are these from?’ he said.

‘Eva has them imported direct from Bulgaria. Traditionally crafted and ecologically friendly. I think they’re lovely, don’t you?’

‘Is there a dinosaur in the range?’

‘Yes, but I’m afraid we sold the last one.’

Darren Turnbull pulled his Astra on to the grass verge, waited until a tractor went past, then nipped into the phone box. He never liked using his mobile to ring Magpie Cottage, in case Fiona got hold of the phone and checked his calls.

‘You’ve got to come and meet me outside the village,’ he said when Stella answered.

‘So you know it’s you they’re looking for, don’t you?’ she said. ‘You’re scared, Darren.’

‘I just don’t think it’s sensible to make a free gift of some gossip to those nosy buggers that live near you.’

‘You know what I think – you’ve got to go to the police.’

‘I can’t, Stell.’

‘They’re trying to catch someone who committed a murder.’

‘I know, but –’

‘So you don’t care? You don’t care that there’s a murderer walking about right in my village, murdering women who live on their own?’

‘Oh, Stella, you’ll be all right.’

‘You ought to be here looking after me and making sure I’m all right.’

‘Meet me in Wirksworth or Cromford or somewhere,’ he pleaded. ‘That’s not far to go.’

‘And then what, eh?’