‘No problem,’ said Thea.

And then it was noon, and she began to think about trying the pub for lunch. Another self-indulgence that her mildly puritanical husband would doubtless disapprove of, but she considered she’d earned it. She’d already established that the pub served food on Mondays, unlike some, and its somewhat pricey menu no longer felt like a deterrent. She resolved that she would limit herself to a maximum of two meals there during her stay, with perhaps a third on the last day as celebration if the mystery of the dead woman had been solved by then.108

She was wondering whether to change into a more respectable outfit when there was a knock on the door. She had an idea who it would be – an idea confirmed when she went to open it.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t sure whether I should be expecting you. I was just off to the pub for lunch. We’d have to go now, because I’ve got to be back here by two.’

109

Chapter Eight

‘I’ll come with you, then,’ said Caz Barkley. ‘How far is it?’

‘About three minutes’ walk. Didn’t you notice it when you came through the village?’

The detective sergeant shook her head. ‘I was too busy trying to find this house. I was sure Gladwin said the gate was green.’ They both looked at the wide wooden gate that was unambiguously brown. ‘Maybe it’s just been painted.’

‘I doubt it,’ said Thea. ‘It doesn’t look as if anyone’s touched it for decades. The hinges are all wonky, so you can’t really open or shut it. But you found me anyway, so that’s all right.’

‘I’ve got the results of the post-mortem.’

‘That was quick.’ But then she realised that the revelations mined from Grace’s body must be informing the Cirencester police, and would explain their need to speak to Thea.

‘Not really. They start early. It was all done by ten, 110and they emailed the report right away.’ She waved her smartphone, to indicate that every pathological detail was securely lodged in its inner workings. ‘I can show you in the pub, if it won’t put you off your food.’

‘Why? Is it very gruesome?’

Caz Barkley did not reply, throwing a cautious glance towards the kitchen, from where builder noise was issuing. ‘Better not say much here,’ she said.

‘Okay. Come on, then. I expect I’m respectable enough, aren’t I?’

Barkley eyed her baggy shirt and cut-off jeans and shrugged. ‘Shouldn’t think it matters,’ she said.

During the short walk, it occurred to Thea that Caz was behaving oddly unprofessionally. She must surely be aware that Thea was officially ‘a person of interest’, indeed, the only identifiable suspect in what was now looking very like a murder investigation. Yet here was Detective Sergeant Barkley intruding on a case that did not include her on its team, and about to reveal findings that certainly ought to be kept secret.

There were only a few people at the pub, scattered around the three distinct rooms. ‘Let’s order the food and then sit outside,’ said Thea, who had developed the habit thanks to the almost constant presence of her dog. Caz quickly ordered a fruit juice and a cheese omelette, making a face at the price. Thea dithered before opting for fishcakes and a pint of Butty Bach ale. It seemed to her that she was getting better value for money than the young detective.