After a short pause, Carver said, ‘Well, since Rachel is no longer alive, I see no harm in confirming for you that it was her. She came to us because she didn’t want the guy to become the local MP. She took the photos of him herself at a party and she was up front about the fact that she wanted to get revenge because he’d dumped her just before their planned wedding. Naturally, we jumped at the chance to run the story and promised never to reveal who it came from.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Douglas Hannigan lived on the other side of town, close to the Westmorland Hospital. It took James only minutes to drive there, and on the way, he told DS Stevens what Gordon Carver had revealed to him.

‘My guess is that Hannigan either knew or suspected that Rachel was the one who stitched him up,’ he said. ‘The first question we need answered is whether he was so pissed off with her that he sent that card. The second question is whether he actually went to the hotel and carried out his threat.’

‘It shouldn’t be that difficult to get to the truth,’ Stevens said. ‘We just have to find out if he has an alibi and compare his handwriting with the message on the card.’

‘Let’s hope it proves to be that easy,’ James replied.

Hannigan’s end-of-terrace house was in a street that was clean and quiet, with neatly trimmed privet hedges and speed bumps in the road. There was no driveway and cars were parked along the kerbs on both sides but James managed to find a gap about twenty yards from Hannigan’s front door. As they walked back to it the first flakes of snow started to fall.

‘That’s all we bloody need,’ Stevens said. ‘I was hoping it wouldn’t reach us until this evening.’

James blew out a breath that clouded in the cold air. ‘After two years up here, I’m still not used to how quickly the weather can go from one extreme to another.’

‘And you probably never will get used to it, boss. I’m a native northerner and it still never ceases to surprise me.’

There was a light on inside the house but after ringing the bell they had to wait almost a minute before the door was answered.

James recognised Douglas Hannigan immediately from the video and photos he’d seen online. His face was narrow, with a sharp nose and strong jaw. He was wearing tracksuit bottoms and a loose-fitting sweater, and he clearly hadn’t showered or shaved recently.

‘Good morning, Mr Hannigan,’ James said, showing his warrant card. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Walker and my colleague here is Detective Sergeant Stevens. We’d like to have a word with you if we may. It’s about your former fiancée, Miss Rachel Elliott.’

Hannigan’s eyes darted between them before his face folded into a frown.

‘I’ve heard what happened to her and I just can’t believe it. But what’s it got to do with me? We split up a long time ago.’