Matt paced the kitchen, fuming at their inability to protect one little old lady from vandals and threats. ‘It has to be someone who wants that cottage, but why? There’s nothing special about it. There’s an empty cottage two houses before Little Anchor, it’s the same size and of similar design. If they wanted somewhere close to the marsh, why not have that? It’s going for a song, apparently.’

Finally, he sank down on to a kitchen chair and stared at Liz. ‘Sorry. Rant over.’

She gave him an understanding smile. ‘Now it’s my turn. I went to see Mr Foreman about that job he would like us to undertake, and although I know you are eaten up with worry about Will and Kate, as well as Emilia Swain, I think we should accept.’ He opened his mouth to object, but she held up her hand. ‘Before you say anything, Mattie, listen to this. I took the address of the village store in question and drove past on my way home. I parked up opposite and sat there for a while, just to get a feel for the village and his clientele, and I saw someone I recognised going in. Remember Clem Cutler?’

‘Do I ever! What a toe-rag he was!’ Matt exclaimed.

‘Well, he was there, in and out in minutes. I already have a slim suspicion of what could be going on, and if I’m right, I think I could get Mr Foreman the proof, or at least the information he needs to act on, very quickly indeed.’

Matt sucked in air. ‘I see. My only worry is Whisper Fen. Things seem to be getting worse out there and I could easily get sidetracked. I wouldn’t want to let a client down.’

‘I’ve told him we are pretty tied up, but I’m happy to make a few low-key enquiries, so long as he doesn’t need results yesterday. So far, he’s just delighted that we’ll look at it for him.’ Liz leaned closer. ‘But that isn’t all, Mattie. I noticed something else. In a corner of the pub car park, where I was sitting observing the store, I saw a man talking heatedly to a shadowy figure inside a battered blue Ford Fiesta. It was Gerald Grove, Mattie!’

Now he was really interested.

‘I tried to get a look at the driver of the car, but I could only make out a shoulder and a close-cropped head. I’d have had to get out of the car to see the reg plates, unfortunately, but I did see Grove back away from the Ford, remove something from his inside pocket, and pass it in through the open window. Then he buggered off. So did the Ford Fiesta, and from where I was sitting, I couldn’t see much of the vehicle, other than the make and colour.’

‘Drugs?’ asked Matt.