He’d lived in Kirkby Abbey for thirty years and had married his wife in the village church. He had a commendable record, according to Stevens, and had been highly rated as a detective.

His home was warm and spacious, the décor tasteful and modern. He took them through to a large kitchen-cum-dining room and invited them to be seated at a glass-topped table. They declined his offer of a drink and James got straight down to business.

‘So tell us about Lorna Manning, Giles,’ he said.

Keegan sat down himself, placing his book on the table.

‘First, you should know that I went over to the crime scene earlier hoping to speak to you, but you weren’t around and none of the other officers would talk to me,’ Keegan said. ‘I didn’t like to bother you after that as I knew how busy you’d be so I came back here and climbed into bed because her death has hit me hard. I feel like I can’t function.’

‘So what, if anything, was going on between you and Lorna?’ James asked.

Keegan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and James could see the grief clouding his features. The pain in his eyes was palpable, and his voice cracked when he spoke.

‘We’d known each other for six or seven years,’ he said. ‘My wife and Lorna were friends and when Christine died she was one of the people who helped me get through the worst of it. More recently we tended only to see each other at events in the village organised by the church and the school.

‘But then just over a week ago I was out on one of my regular walks across the fields when I spotted her sitting by herself next to the stream. I noticed she was crying so I went over to see if she was all right. She said she was, apart from being terribly embarrassed. She wouldn’t tell me what was wrong and she asked me not to keep asking. So I didn’t. But I did persuade her to come back into the village and I walked her home.

‘She invited me in for a cup of tea and we talked for a while. I realised then that she was just as lonely as me, and I thought we got on really well, so I invited her out for a meal on Wednesday evening at The King’s Head, which I’m guessing is where we were seen together. It was really great and we agreed to do it again before Christmas. I was hoping it might lead to something more serious.’

His eyes were glazed now and James could tell he was on the verge of losing it.

‘When was the last time you saw her, Giles?’ he asked.

‘That would be yesterday. We’d agreed to meet at the carol singing, but got split up after Charlie’s body was found. I popped round to her house later in the afternoon to see if she was okay.’