The spirits of the three friends started to flag. They could see the sly looks they got whenever they entered or left the police station, or had the temerity to request specific information, and they increasingly felt as though they were letting Tanika down. After all, she’d gone out on a limb to get them involved and they weren’t doing anything to repay that faith.

By the Wednesday, neither Becks nor Suzie could spare any more time to work the case. Suzie had dogs to walk and Becks a home that she believed had completely fallen into disarray over the previous two days. So Judith spent Wednesday at the police station on her own. But it wasn’t the same without her friends. She felt a touch foolish. Like the silly, interfering old woman she knew Tanika’s colleagues already thought she was.

When she finally got home after a whole day cooped up inside, she decided she needed a swim more than ever to clear her mind.

After weeks of sunshine, the evening brought bruised clouds, and the air was oppressively hot. A storm was on the way, Judith could tell as she swam upstream.

To try and relieve her feelings of frustration, Judith did what she always did. She counted her blessings. There were so many. She was fit, she wanted for nothing, and she’d even made some new friends. But despite her efforts to remain positive, Judith couldn’t stop her thoughts returning to the work she’d been doing at the police station, which had led precisely nowhere as far as she could see.

In particular, she kept thinking about the antique pistol the killer had used and the medallions he’d left behind at the scene of each murder. The fact that each victim had been shot dead with an antique Luger screamed to Judith that Elliot Howard had to be the killer, but the fact that Masonic medallions had been left on the bodies screamed just as loudly that it had to have been Andy Bishop.

Judith had a terrible feeling that the killer was playing with her, playing with the police. After all, why leave any kind of clues like bronze medallions behind at the scene? Wouldn’t any killer worth their salt focus on getting in there, committing murder, and then getting out again without leaving any clues whatsoever? The medallions made no sense.

As Judith’s swimming brought her alongside Stefan’s property, she treaded water for a minute, looking at the bank of bulrushes, her mind going back to the night of the murder. To have been this close to the killer at the precise moment he’d shot and killed Stefan Dunwoody! It was incredible to consider.