Fyfe waved his hand in dismissal. ‘Put that bloody thing away, city mouse. You’ll hurt someone. We’re just talkin’ here.’

‘So talk,’ Manolis said. ‘Who was on the phone?’

The sergeant wiped his dry mouth with a big country hand. ‘You know who.’

Retrieving Molly’s driver’s licence from his pocket, Manolis held it up. ‘So why her, why their own daughter-in-law?’

Fyfe swallowed hard, summoning the saliva to speak. ‘Politics,’ he said softly, no tone. ‘Bloody power and politics.’

The sergeant looked at Manolis with red-ringed eyes and spoke with the relief of someone in a confessional.

‘Poor ol’ Rexy. He ran his little tourist park for years. Good little business it was, honest and true, but it was dyin’ a slow and painful death. So was the whole town, really. So he did what any loyal citizen would do – he ran for local council. He won, became mayor. Happy days. But then, the brown house loomed. Some people wanted it, some didn’t. Rex didn’t, but his opponent did. In the end, it decided the election. People thought it would turn our busted-arse town around.’

Manolis nodded knowingly. ‘Let me guess. They were wrong.’

‘Been payin’ attention.’ Fyfe showed yellow teeth. ‘Good.’

He explained that Rex returned to the tourist park, but the issue burned inside him.

‘As time went on, he saw he was right. That bloody place was eatin’ our town alive. Shops were goin’ broke, the extra traffic was ruinin’ the roads, services and medicines and fresh food were in short supply. And crime was risin’.’

‘Wait,’ said Manolis, cocking his head to one side, ‘when’s the next election?’

Fyfe rubbed his eyes, screwed up his nose. ‘Later this year. Rexy plans to run, of course.’

Manolis blinked hard. ‘Well given what’s happened to Cobb, he’d be a shoo-in. So why stone a poor woman to death? And why single out Ahmed Omari?’

A grin crawled across Fyfe’s blotchy face. ‘As guarantee. Couldn’t risk it bein’ close. As for Omari, this is where it got messy…’

Fyfe looked away, tugging a thickened, gnarled earlobe reflectively. He explained that the idea came to Rex following an argument with Molly after he’d discovered she was helping Ahmed with his visa negotiations.

‘Poor Rexy felt betrayed, ashamed. Vera did too. Their kids were dead, their business was buggered, they had only Molly left. So they invited her round for tea last Friday night and confronted her for helping the reffos. But she didn’t want a bar of it.’

‘So he stoned her to death in retribution?’ Manolis was stunned. It seemed like a completely disproportionate and extremely violent response, no matter the provocation.

‘Nah,’ said Fyfe. ‘Not even Rexy’s that bad.’

‘Then what, how did she die from stoning?’

Fyfe smiled lightly. ‘Well,’ he breathed. ‘You’re half right…’

He explained that Molly had begun to leave.