It was late afternoon when Gillard left Mount Browne and drove back to Rissington Common to catch up with Rowena Willow. He found her at the dig by the river. She was working with a dozen others, crouching down close to a series of pits excavated around the area where the body had been found. She was wearing shorts, multi-coloured knee-socks and engineer’s boots. When she saw a masked Gillard approach, she squinted up at him against the sun.

‘Hello, Rowena. I left a couple of messages on your phone. Can I have a word?’

She stood up and shrugged. ‘I only get one bar of phone signal down here.’

It was true, but Gillard thought it more likely that she simply didn’t want to speak to him. ‘I need to ask you about the tenants at Dove Cottage.’

‘I’ve got all the details at home,’ she said, ruffling her untidy brown hair.

‘Trouble is, you’re never there,’ Gillard said. Rowena had given her address as Willow Cottage, four doors up from Dove Cottage where Cleaver lived. But every time Gillard or any of his team had rung her doorbell, or had rung the landline, there had been no reply.

‘Well, we can go there now,’ she said. She led Gillard across the meadow onto Bourne Lane and the hundred yards up to Willow Cottage. This attractive terraced house, with its small flower-filled front garden, showed what Dove Cottage could become with a little bit of care and attention.

‘Are you the gardener?’ Gillard asked, as Rowena unlocked the small rustic front door and let him in.

She laughed. ‘No. Vicky used to do the garden, and she planted the flowers, but it’s Stewie who maintains it. He’s done a good job, hasn’t he?’

The front door opened directly into a small and comfortable lounge painted in pastel colours, with new, pale carpets. Rowena took off her boots, and Gillard did likewise with his shoes. His eyes were drawn to a photograph of Crystal with Rowena, when the girl looked about twelve. On the mantelpiece there were a few oddments, beads and coins, that looked like they might have been archaeological finds.

‘How long have you lived here?’

‘All my life. I’ve pretty much had it to myself since Mum moved up into Haslemere a year ago.’

‘Why the move?’

‘Her business, really. She had a lot of evening bookings, and it just made more sense for her to be there most of the time. There was more space.’

‘Easier for her when she had a boyfriend, right? Not having you around.’

She glanced shrewdly at him, trying to assess how much the detective already knew.

‘Rowena, we already know Crystal was seeing Ozzy Blanchard.’