She took the report and scanned through. Gavin was right, the list was a long one. Many of the items were things she’d never heard of and couldn’t imagine a use for. Eye caps, canulas, a mouth former …

‘What is it?’ asked Hitchens.

‘It was just a break-in, Diane,’ said Murfin. ‘All right, it’s never been cleared up, but it seems obvious it was addicts looking for kicks and some quick money to pay for their next fix.’

‘It was just a thought,’ said Fry. ‘I was wondering if there’s enough stolen equipment on this list for somebody to perform their own private embalming.’

When Cooper returned to the office, he found an urn had been left on his desk for return to Susan Dakin. According to the report, the cremains had been weighed in by the lab at eight pounds five ounces. It was strange to think that Mr Dakin probably weighed about the same reduced to ashes as he did when he was born.

But the urn would have to wait a little while yet before it was returned to its shelf. He and Diane Fry had an appointment with a property agent later this afternoon at Alder Hall. And later he hoped to attend Audrey Steele’s second funeral.

‘Gibbet?’ said Fry when he reported his visit to Tom Jarvis. ‘Are you saying there’s a place called Gibbet Rock near Wardlow and Litton Foot?’

‘Yes,’ said Cooper. Fry was starting to look flushed with excitement.

‘This is it, Ben. “Follow the signs at the gibbet and the rock, and you can meet my flesh eater.” This rock will be limestone, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘His second message is starting to make sense at last. Let’s have a look at the map.’

‘Where’s the transcript?’

‘I don’t need it,’ said Fry. ‘It starts “All you have to do is find the dead place. Here I am at its centre, a cemetery six miles wide.” This Gibbet Rock is within three miles of Wardlow church, I presume?’

‘Easily.’

‘“See, there are the black-suited mourners, swarming like ants around a decaying corpse.” No problem there – he was at a funeral when he made the call. “Lay them out in the sun, hang their bones on a gibbet.” There’s your Gibbet Rock –’ Fry stabbed a finger at the map. ‘Moving west from Wardlow.’

‘OK.’

‘“They should decay in the open air until their flesh is gone.”’

‘Audrey Steele?’ suggested Cooper. ‘It fits.’

‘Could be.’

‘That’s Litton Foot, there.’

Fry nodded. ‘“Or, of course, in a sarcophagus.”’

They were both silent for a moment.

‘I don’t know,’ said Cooper.

But Fry finished reciting the message to the end, as if it was programmed into her memory.

‘“It’s perfectly simple. All you have to do is find the dead place.”’

‘I still don’t know, Diane.’