‘She’ll think it’s her fault. Wasn’t this whole thing her idea in the first place? I think she already feels bad about it.’

They were standing in the driveway of the Corner House, right beside Barkley’s car. ‘She’s hopelessly busy with this pangolin thing,’ Caz went on, with a dark look. ‘Honestly, I thought I’d seen the worst of human nature, but this is a whole new level of barbarism. There really aren’t any words for it. And I’ve only heard some odd bits – Gladwin’s up to her elbows in it.’ The detective’s face seemed to glow with black thoughts. ‘If you ask me, it’s almost as vile to torture and kill animals as the things they do to children and 117other human beings. I know I’m not meant to say that, but I think I’ve got the right. After all, I was an abused child, and I’ve got over it. I can even almost understand what drove them to do it, and how having a kid tipped them over the edge. But when these total monsters do it for money, and it’s all based on such utterly brainless superstition, I see red.’

‘I know,’ said Thea, still not properly attending. ‘That idiotic Chinese medicine.’

‘If you ask me, there’s too much respect paid to primitive beliefs and practices. Look at FGM. And about a million other things.’

It was a rant with which Thea had some sympathy, but she was in no mood to encourage it. Barkley was young and ideological and uncompromising, as well as a lot more experienced than Thea herself was, at least in some respects. She would no doubt make a fine police detective when she’d had time to absorb some of the nuances that governed human behaviour. She had sharp wits and more than adequate self-confidence. ‘Mm,’ she said. ‘I guess we’ll have to leave all that for another day.’

‘What? Oh – right. I should go. Good luck with the Cirencester people. I’ll try and call you to see how it went – maybe tomorrow.’

‘Thanks, Caz,’ said Thea.

‘Sorry about the anniversary date,’ said Barkley as she got into her car. ‘You’d never have remembered if it hadn’t been for my big mouth.’

‘I should be grateful, then. What if I never remembered it?’118

‘That might have been the best thing,’ said the detective, before starting the engine and driving away.

The older builder met her in the hallway, holding a steaming mug. It smelt like strong sweet coffee. ‘Bloke came looking for you,’ he said. ‘You just missed him.’

‘Oh?’ Her first thought was that it must have been Drew. Then, that it had been somebody from the Cirencester police station, arrived early. ‘They could have phoned me, whoever it was.’

Sid shook his head. ‘Didn’t seem to want to do that. Said he’d rather see you in person.’

‘What did he look like? Did he have a bad leg?’ It must have been the man from the churchyard, she assumed, come to offer her some company.