James spent another ten minutes trying to persuade Carver not to reveal more than the press office were putting out. But he insisted he had to go with it all.

In the end, James felt there was only one thing he could say on the record to the reporter, and that was: ‘More information will be forthcoming at the next press conference.’

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

On the way to Keith Patel’s cottage, James rang DCI Tanner to tell him about his encounter with the reporter.

‘You need to alert the press office, sir,’ he said. ‘They’re going to be asked about the Christmas cards and why we chose not to make them public.’

‘We’ll just tell the truth,’ Tanner replied. ‘We didn’t want to alarm the villagers and cause panic when there was no way of knowing if the threats in them were genuine.’

‘Are you holding another press conference today?’

‘We’ll have to, but there’ll be more to talk about than your case. Would you believe we have another murder on our hands?’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘I wish I was. And it’s right here in Kendal. So we’re being stretched even further now.’

‘What do we know?’

‘A young man yet to be identified. His body was found just over an hour ago next to the river path off Beezon Fields. He was bludgeoned to death late last night or in the early hours of this morning. Too soon to know the circumstances.’

‘That’s all we need,’ James said.

‘My sentiments exactly.’

After hanging up, James told DC Abbott about the body found in Kendal.

‘When I came to Cumbria, I thought I’d be in for a quiet life,’ he said.

Abbott grinned. ‘I’d like a pound for every copper from down south who has said that to me. But what you need to remember is that up here it’s all about peaks and troughs. Even crime. And right now we’re at the top of an almighty frigging peak.’

It was James’s third visit to Keith Patel’s house, and before they reached it he told DC Abbott to brace herself for a hostile reception.

‘The last time I was here he told me to piss off and said he wouldn’t talk to us again unless he had a lawyer with him.’

They arrived at the cottage just as Patel was about to step out. He answered the door wearing a coat, boots and a woollen hat.

‘What in God’s name do you want with me now?’ he said. ‘Surely you lot have got more important things to do than harass me.’

‘Where are you off to, Mr Patel?’ James asked him.

‘Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve run out of fags so I’m going to the store.’

‘Well, you’ll have to delay your trip because we need to come in and talk to you.’

‘What for this time?’

‘There’s been another murder, Mr Patel. And it turns out that you were one of the last people to see the victim alive.’