Although this particular suggestion of the commander’s smacked of the proverbial haystack and needle, the mystery intrigued me. More importantly, I hated the thought of this man—whoever he was, and whatever he may have done—losing his life, and in death being treated so ignominiously.

“Do we know when the man died?”

DC Yeats made the slightest of movements. There was something he wanted to say, yet he did not speak.

The commander did. “We can’t say for sure. It would be guesswork. Do you need time to think this over? I shall understand if your answer is no.”

What was the matter with him? Did he think I was not asking the right questions, or was I asking too many? Perhaps he was simply being clever, and challenging me to say yes.

“If I may be fully briefed, and with the contract drawn up by the end of today, I shall start immediately.”

That would please my bank manager.

Was it my imagination or did he seem disappointed? Perhaps not disappointed in me as a detective, but as my mother’s daughter, my aunt’s niece. This was not a task for a “lady”. And yet, he had summoned me.

“Thank you, Mrs. Shackleton. Welcome aboard. You will have my appreciation and that of the force for your efforts.”

For my efforts! It seemed to me that he expected I would fall at the first hurdle.

The commander took a file from his cabinet. “I’m so sorry but I have another meeting. May I hand you over to DC Yeats? He will give you all the information you need.” He passed the file to Yeats.

I ignored his urgent wish to be elsewhere. “You want me to go undercover?”

“Yes.”

“The railway police and local detectives must have asked direct questions of the railway staff and the growers. There could have been no line of questioning without reference to a body and a train.”

“That is correct. But we wish you to be discreet.”

“Why the secrecy? Surely the people who have been questioned may be allowed to know my mission?”

“Prefer this to be QT. You see, m’dear, there are influential men in the north, industrialists on whom our economy depends. It would not do for them to imagine Scotland Yard –” He paused, thinking of how to phrase this. “It would not do for them to think of Scotland Yard as grappling too long with unanswered questions and that we are bringing in outside assistance.”

He did not want important people to think that Scotland Yard had turned to me.

He smiled. “And Mrs. Shackleton, I have arranged for you to have afternoon tea at The Savoy with a lady who has similar interests to yourself. I hope you will enjoy that.” With apologies and polite remarks, he moved towards the door.

There are not many female detectives. I quickly guessed who that person might be. She would understand that I wanted to go straight home and start work.

“One more question, sir.”