FEBRUARY – TWO MONTHS LATER

The woman who opened the door of Ivy Cottage looked tired and lined, though Alison thought she was only about forty. She resolved to start using that night cream her mum had got her for Christmas. A pointed gift if ever there was one.

When Alison asked to come in, the woman – a Nora Halscombe – stepped back. ‘Of course. I saw the vans going up and down the road. Has something happened?’

Inside was dank and not very warm; Alison could feel a draught from the badly fitting window pane. ‘I’m afraid a body’s been found in the snow, just up the road.’

‘Oh? How terrible. Would you like tea?’

‘Oh, no—’

‘Milk, two sugars, thanks.’

Alison glared at Tom for cutting her off. He shrugged. He’d be gagging for his afternoon caffeine fix – usually he downed at least four coffees and no fewer than two chocolate bars from the station vending machine. Alison declined a tea herself. Something about this place gave her the creeps.

Nora twittered about, setting down a bottle of milk with bits floating in it. Alison smirked at Tom.

‘Mrs Halscombe – is it Mrs?’

‘Ms,’ she said, with surprising firmness.

‘Sorry. Ms. I need to ask if you’ve seen anything suspicious. A vehicle behaving strangely, perhaps.’ They were working on the assumption that the body might have been flung from a van or car, or perhaps a pedestrian had been hit while walking. How else would it end up here, on this little-used stretch of country lane?

‘No, nothing like that. Poor thing. Was it a man or woman?’

Alison glanced at Tom. Was that a telling question?

‘I can’t say right now. Ms Halscombe – can I ask about your neighbours? Nicholas and Suzanne Thomas, is that right?’

‘He’s Thomas. She’s Matthews. They’re married, but – you know how some people are.’

‘I see.’ Alison made a note, as Tom slurped his tea, apparently unperturbed by the on-the-turn milk. ‘Do you know if they’re away? It doesn’t look like anyone’s at home. There’s post piled up in the doorway. On holiday, perhaps?’

Nora frowned. She hadn’t made tea for herself, and her cracked hands rubbed over each other anxiously. ‘I wouldn’t know, I’m afraid. We’re not very close.’

‘Really? Only the three of you out here?’

‘He works a lot. I see Suzi sometimes, to say hello.’

It was frustrating. They already knew that Nick Thomas had not returned to work at the local council after the Christmas holidays, that he had taken a considerable chunk of sick leave in the weeks leading up to it, and that colleagues believed him to be still ill with a serious flu, then post-viral fatigue.

As for the wife, she seemed to go nowhere and see no one. They were following up leads with her mother, who appeared to be on a round-the-world cruise and not contactable.