The spare elderly man detached himself from the group. His voice was polite, but it would be hard to disagree with him. Claire knew immediately that there was something familiar about him. She had seen him before.

“I wonder if we might go home to wait for you,” he said. “We’re all staying at the same place, with Rose Pengelly at Myrtle Cottage. It’s in Porthkennan. Perhaps you could come there to take your statements. As you can imagine, it’s been a very distressing day.”

“Yes,” she said. “I think that might be possible, Mr.—?”

“Palmer-Jones,” he said. “George Palmer-Jones.”

Then she knew where she had seen him. He had been a guest lecturer at Hendon. When the others trooped miserably towards their cars, she called him back.

“Mr. Palmer-Jones,” she said. “I just wanted to say what a pleasure it is to meet you again. You were rather a hero of mine at college actually. I read your report of the patrolling of sensitive areas even before I joined the force. At Hendon they told us you were the only civil servant really to understand what policing is about.”

She paused, blushing, realising that she was being too effusive, unprofessional.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m keeping you from your friends. I expect I’ll see you later. The formalities won’t take long if it was an accident.”

He looked up with disturbed, rather angry eyes. He hardly seemed to see her. She was hurt. She had hoped he would take more notice of her.

“I shouldn’t be too certain,” he said, “that it was an accident.”

He walked back towards his wife, then returned briefly to tell her that Greg’s car was still parked on the quayside.

Along the harbour wall, as if from nowhere, a group of people had gathered. The news of the young man’s death must be public knowledge already. She turned her back to them and stepped carefully onto the boat. On the deck the doctor was looking at the body with a strong spotlight.

“We might as well move him,” he said. “They pulled him around quite a lot trying to revive him.”

“Anything unusual?” She stooped beside him. There was a strong and unpleasant smell of fish which made her feel sick.

“Only this.” He seemed to be talking almost to himself. “A severe blow to the back of the head. It must have knocked him out before he hit the water. That’s probably why he drowned so quickly. The water was warm. If he was a swimmer, he could have survived for ages. But I can’t see where he can have fallen and hit his head. The deck rail’s too low, and if he slipped backwards onto the deck, he wouldn’t have fallen into the water. The wound’s in the wrong place and the wrong shape for that anyway.”

“What would you say, then?”