‘It’s not,’ muttered Cordelia. ‘There are lots of explanations. But that’s the one I believe. He knew who the body was. He knew he didn’t have much time. So he got in his car …’

‘There were tyre tracks by the church,’ I said, quickly. ‘Thin ones, like from that silly car of his.’

‘Well he drove to the church, took the body and grabbed whatever it is that was so important in the church. Then he put it in his car and headed off through the storm. He got himself on the Spadeadam road. The peat bog. Miles and miles of ground that will hold its secrets forever. But the storm got too much and he had the crash that killed him.’

I didn’t like hearing it but I couldn’t stop her. Not now.

‘The man who spoke French,’ she said. ‘The one with the recording device. He went to Fairfax’s. He matches the description, give or take. He must have told Fairfax something he shouldn’t have. Maybe he upset somebody by accident. Perhaps he fell or something …’

She shook her head, angry at herself for sounding so vague. She took a breath like she was trying to order her thoughts.

‘Fairfax doted on Christopher, yes? Never got over his death. Well perhaps this Frenchman had something to say about the war that Fairfax didn’t like. So Fairfax loses his temper and the man in blue ends up dead. Where would he stash the body? How about a mausoleum that won’t be opened for years and that Fairfax has the only key for …’

‘No,’ I said, sharply. ‘No, Pike had a key. He’s been storing stuff there. I found guns. Not shotguns. Military rifles.’

She looked confused. ‘Pike? Why would he …?’

‘Fairfax might have given him it?’ said John.

‘Why?’

‘He thought the best of people. And he and Christopher were pals, near enough.’

It looked to me as if Cordelia were reading lots of different books all at once. Her eyes seemed to be darting everywhere as she spoke.

‘Could you imagine Fairfax hurting somebody?’ she asked, directly.

‘No,’ I said, and meant it.

‘But he would protect somebody, yes? Somebody he cared about?’

I could see what she meant. I’d been able to see it before she even started speaking.

‘Where was Pike when the storm hit?’ she asked. ‘Could Fairfax have been going to warn him?’

‘Probably up to mischief,’ I said, trying to make light of it. ‘He deals in cigarettes. Beer. Has some friends who are up to no good. Over Newcastle way.’

‘So Pike’s been either storing guns in a safe place for some bad men, or he’s been ripping them off. They send some heavy to ask around and he ends up dead. Can’t you see it?’ she asked, and it was like there was energy fizzing off her.