“Whoever he was and whatever he did or didn’t do, someone must miss him.”

Sykes pointed to his map, tapping Ardsley. “Anyone wanting to dispose of a body round here would be spoiled for choice. Within a five mile radius, you have disused mine workings, slag heaps, fields, reservoir, woods. Go a bit farther, there’s the river.”

Knowing the area, I had already thought of that. “You’re right, but the villages are heavily populated. As well as mines and farms, there’s a mill, a school—lots of children who’ll wander the fields and woods. Perhaps whoever did it wanted to give himself time to be clear of the area.”

Mrs. Sugden frowned. “What happened to the man’s clothes?”

It was a good question, and one of many. If we could find the man’s clothes, we might find his killer.

It was getting late. My niece Harriet would be back from the second showing at the cinema very soon. “Let’s all sleep on it. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

Mrs. Sugden decided that it was a good idea to make cocoa. Sykes preferred a drop of whisky, and so did I.

Mrs. Sugden went into the kitchen.

Sykes pointed to the page that listed some of the people who had been told about the body, and presumably the commander’s suspicions. “Your cousin is on this list.”

“Yes. James isn’t the only person on the list who works in government. A friend’s husband is on there, too. Benjamin Brockman, a mine owner.” Benjie Brockman’s name was near the top of the list. “I’ve known Gertrude Brockman for years. We first met at riding school when we were eleven.”

“Isn’t Mr. Brockman something to do with the county bigwigs?”

“He’s deputy to the Lord Lieutenant of the County.”

“That’s where you’re going to invite yourself to stay!”

“Yes, though given that I’m undercover, I’ll have to hope that Gertrude or Benjie will be indiscreet and confide in me.”

“Will Mr. Brockman have told his wife?”

“It would be useful if he has. Commander Woodhead is keen that I don’t barge in, saying that I’m investigating because Scotland Yard and CID have hit a brick wall.”

“Because there’s nervousness about another miners’ strike?”

“That was the impression the commander gave me.”

Sykes scratched his head. “Then with respect, Mrs. Shackleton, you may not be the best person to be there.”

“How so?”

“If there’s a need to infiltrate, it would take some horny-handed son of the soil to gain the workers’ confidence.”

“That would rule out all three of us, you, me and Mrs. Sugden. Shall I tender our resignation?”

He gave a small chuckle. “Where do we start?”

“Railway staff have been questioned, but if you want to go in there as LNER’s visiting security inspector, I’m sure that can be arranged.”

He pulled a disagreeable face. Knowing Sykes, this meant he was already considering something more devious than dressing up as a railway inspector.

“Do we have the usual expenses budget?”

“Yes. But bribery and corruption? You shock me, Mr. Sykes.”