“We got on. You’ll see a bonny rag rug for sale in her window and one inside, both made by me. She’d take my pies, apple, blackberry, plum. I go out picking when some’d leave fruit to rot.”

Mrs. Sugden doubted many round here would leave fruit to rot. She pigeon-holed this rug beater as someone who would get there first, strip trees and bushes bare.

“Is there anything else you can tell me about what happened that dreadful night? Only I wouldn’t want to put myself in harm’s way. History has a habit of repeating itself.”

“Nothing ever happens here. It was Friday night. All Fridays are the same. Women clear their slate at the shop. Lads go to Rothwell to hang about on street corners. Fellers go to the pub or the club as takes their fancy. Lassies stop at home and wash their hair.”

“And what about the lad they got for the murder?”

“I saw him going to his band practice, and I saw him coming back.”

“And after that?”

“Nay, I’ve stuff to get on with. I don’t sit watching other folks all day and all night.”

“So nothing at all unusual?”

“Only that –”

“What?”

“Oh summat and nowt. She didn’t usually light a garden fire on a Friday.”

“Did you tell the police?”

“They didn’t ask so I didn’t tell.”

Chapter 40

Chapter Forty

Sergeant Dog sniffed at the scarecrow’s sacking coat with such enthusiasm that he almost toppled the figure. Harriet saw that under the sacking coat was another coat. Like the sacking, it was damp from rain. It was charred, too. Scorch marks. Threads of hemp attached themselves to the wool of the second coat. She examined it more closely, knowing a bit of good cloth when she saw it, fingering the wool. This must be the most thoroughly dressed scarecrow in Yorkshire. Under the jacket, it wore a shirt. It wore a pair of trousers.

She put Sergeant on his lead. “You best leave this alone. It’s a puzzle.”

His interest in the scarecrow waned.

He had been trained not to pull, not to drag, not to be a blooming nuisance. Now he pulled. He dragged. He became a blooming nuisance. She let him have his way, to see where he would lead. He led her back into the shop. He sniffed all about, making small whining noises.

Harriet decided she did not like it in here, not one little bit.

Sergeant led her all around, sniff-sniffing. He led her to the back door. When he put his snout to the mat, he let out a whine.

The mat was none too clean. Harriet felt suddenly cold. This wasn’t a good place to be. “Come on. We’re off outside.”