‘Have you sold many of them?’

‘Indeed we have. They were in a mixed batch of over a hundred packs we got in eight weeks ago. I’m not sure how many of that particular design have gone out, but I believe there are only a few left.’

‘So I reckon a lot of villagers will be sending each other the exact same card.’ James said.

King laughed. ‘Happens every year, but it’s to be expected since we’re the only retailer in Kirkby Abbey selling cards.’

‘Tell me, Mr King, is it possible to keep track of who buys which packs?’

King wrinkled his brow. ‘That’s a strange question, Detective. Why do you want to know?’

‘I’m just curious. That’s all.’

King shrugged. ‘Most people pay in cash and only the batch number shows on the till receipt anyway. And, of course, we stocked the same brands last Christmas, so I expect some people still had them in a cupboard or drawer at home.’

As James paid for the cards – with cash – he nodded towards the CCTV camera on the wall to the right of the counter.

‘It’s great to see that you take security seriously. I’ve been told that some shops in the area don’t even have cameras installed.’

King followed his gaze. ‘Between us, it’s not been working for weeks. I need to get it repaired or replaced.’

James left the shop disappointed. It was obvious that it would be impossible to identify who had purchased the cards that had been sent to him and the priest.

But at least it now seemed certain that they’d been bought in the village store by a local, which narrowed the list of potential suspects down to … hundreds of people.

CHAPTER TEN

The White Hart was the oldest of the two pubs in the village. Unlike The King’s Head, it didn’t have rooms for rent, and it was in a better position overlooking the square.

There was a gabled entrance and bay windows on the outside. Inside it was a typical cosy Cumbrian pub, with timber floors, open fires, worn leather sofas and a low oak-beamed ceiling.

Country oddments and pictures of the Dales lined the walls, and an archway led from the bar into a restaurant with about fifteen tables.

There were plenty of Christmas decorations, and as James entered, he heard the Mariah Carey classic All I Want For Christmas Is You playing in the background.

He was there before his wife and ordered a bottle of her favourite Chardonnay from the landlady, Sonia Jenkins.

James felt sure that there weren’t many women in the village as attractive as Sonia. She had a pretty face, stunning figure, and a smile that lit up the room.

But she wasn’t smiling now, for whatever reason. After taking his order, she said, ‘Will your wife be joining you, Mr Walker?’

‘Any minute now,’ he said. ‘So I’ll need two glasses with that and a lunch menu please.’

‘Make yourself comfortable and I’ll bring them over.’ Then she hesitated a moment before continuing. ‘I’m sure Annie mentioned what happened at the school yesterday evening after the nativity play. So when she arrives I’d like to take the opportunity to apologise to her. Would that be okay with you?’