‘Were you psychoanalysing people even then?’ said Fry. ‘Yes, I bet you were. I can just see you as an eight-year-old Sigmund Freud.’

But Cooper took no notice. He knew her well enough by now. She made those remarks out of a sort of defensive instinct sometimes. In fact, whenever he talked about vulnerable and lonely people, it seemed.

‘Of course, the result was that everyone tried to steer clear of Old Annie,’ he said. ‘It was probably why her relatives never visited her, and why even the postman kept his van door open and the engine running. Mum always said she had trouble getting away from the cottage once she was inside.’

‘No one likes being trapped by an old bore.’

‘Yes, I suppose Annie was a terrible old bore, but it was more than that. When I was a small child I found her quite frightening. She had that slightly hysterical tone to her voice that always makes people nervous. So people went out of their way to avoid her.’

‘God help me, but I hope I die before I get like that.’

They found Hitchens and Kessen at the edge of the field backing on to the garden of Bain House. The DCI seemed to be sniffing the air, trying to detect the scent of his suspect, like a dog. Wayne Abbott was walking across the field towards them, his boots crunching through the ridges of ploughed soil.

‘I was always taught to go around the edge of a field so as not to damage the crop,’ he said. ‘But I’m making an exception today, because the edge of the field is exactly where your tyre marks are.’

‘The tyre marks of what?’

‘A black car possibly, but a dark colour certainly.’

Kessen looked surprised, and perhaps a bit irritated. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Well, I’m betting if they drove openly across this field they were hoping that residents living nearby would think they were out lamping.’

‘Lamping?’

‘That’s when people go out into the countryside to shoot animals at night. Lampers use a bright light to dazzle their quarry.’

‘Yes, I know about that – rabbits and such like.’

‘Well, not just rabbits. Badgers, deer, sheep – you name it. Anything that’ll stand up and be shot at.’ Abbott’s eyes flickered around the group. ‘DC Cooper will tell you about it. I’m sure he must have done a bit of lamping himself.’

‘Well . . .’ began Cooper. But no one was listening to him.

‘But the thing is,’ said Abbott, ‘if local people thought somebody was out lamping that night, they probably wouldn’t have bothered to dial 999, even when they heard shots.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘It’s different in the country – you get used to hearing gunshots. In the city, someone might call the police, but out here you wonder how many brace they’ve potted.’

‘I understand that. But the colour of the vehicle . . . ?’