Identity discovered: Harry Aspinall, recognised by golfers and Vicar. Resident of France. Owner of Rothwell Manor. Absentee trustee of Bluebell Children’s Home. His son here. Meet at White Swan?

The message stopped my breath. My wild guess turned out to be near the mark.

If ever a summons struck a note of urgency, this was it.

And there was Sykes’s motor now. He was offering a lift to the stranger—Harry Aspinall’s son? I caught Sykes’s eye, and nodded agreement to his suggestion. He could spot that I had a passenger so would be unable to follow.

Fortunately, the rainstorm ended, as quickly as it had begun.

Chapter 38

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Mrs. Sugden walked smartly out of the station, looking out for Mr. Gopnik the estate agent. Harriet hung back, because Sergeant Dog insisted on sniffing his new surroundings. She would not deprive him of that small joy. When they did emerge, Harriet saw Mrs. Sugden talking to a florid-faced man with a bulbous nose. He stood with his back to a black saloon car. As she drew nearer, Harriet saw that the side of the car had been lettered in gold:

GOPNIK ESTATE AGENT

Mrs. Sugden turned and looked towards Harriet and the dog. Mr. Gopnik followed her gaze. He then leaned back against his car, with a look that said he was ready to go home now.

Sergeant Dog, the instant it was polite to do so, put his leg up on the car’s rear wheel.

Mrs. Sugden temporarily adopted Harriet. “This my granddaughter who’ll help in the shop.”

Already in possession of grandmothers, Harriet was intrigued at the thought of adding to the collection.

“Harriet, meet Mr. Gopnik who will kindly show us round the shop in Thorpefield.”

“How do you do, sir.” Harriet spoke in her most polite voice, not wanting there to be any objections. “Granny and I would have our dog with us in the shop.”

“Well then you’d better climb in.” He opened the front passenger door for Mrs. Sugden and the rear door for Harriet. “Try and keep him off the seats.”

They set off, passing White Swan Yard where one of Harriet’s real grannies lived.

Sergeant Dog, who must in his own mind imagine himself small and dainty, decided that the best place for him to sit would be on Harriet’s lap. Harriet was behind Mr. Gopnik, meaning that Sergeant Dog was ideally situated to sniff the back of the driver’s neck.

Mr. Gopnik leaned forward. So did Sergeant Dog. He dribbled on Mr. Gopnik’s collar. Harriet put her arms around Sergeant and tried to hold him back.

The smell of dog mingled with the existing odours of petrol, upholstery, whisky and cigarettes.

Mrs. Sugden looked out of the window, assessing Wakefield.