‘Close. Oscar Levant. He was America’s cross between Oscar Wilde and Noel Coward. "There's a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line.” That’s the full quote.’

Caroline smiled and nodded, well aware that some lines had clearly been erased.

‘Right,’ she said as they arrived back on Station Road. ‘Have you got an hour or two free?’

‘Nothing that can’t wait. Why?’

‘Because I fancy something a little bit different. How do you fancy going to a church fete?’

Dexter had immediately clocked Caroline’s thinly-veiled motivation. Despite her earlier comments, she was still convinced there was a religious background to Roger Clifton’s murder, but he also knew she wasn’t going to let it go. If nothing else, it was an hour out of the office and a chance to mingle with the locals. There was even a half-decent chance one or two of them might have some information that would be useful to them.

They parked up a little way down the road from the church, the streets already lined with cars — presumably due to people travelling from neighbouring villages to visit the church fete. By now, the sun was shining strongly and it was shaping up to be a beautiful day.

Caroline took stock of the happy faces, excited children and bunting that set the scene, and realised it was something that never would’ve happened in London. There were fetes and events, but they didn’t quite have the same community feel she was seeing in front of her in that moment.

‘Where do you stand on fudge?’ Dexter asked, gesturing towards one of the stalls as they stepped into the church hall.

‘I try not to,’ Caroline said. ‘Makes my shoes awfully sticky.’

‘Shall we get a bag? I’m pretty sure it’s the same guy that was at the food and drink festival in Oakham last year. If it is, the coconut fudge is divine.’

‘As long as you’re not thinking of putting it on expenses,’ Caroline replied, noticing he was already halfway to the stall.

Dexter beamed as he returned with the bag of bright pink fudge, looking like a child who’d just been rewarded for good behaviour. ‘Oh, hello,’ he said, a concerned tone in his voice.

‘Not the same as last year?’

‘No, over there.’

Caroline followed Dexter’s eyes and looked over at the tombola stall. And there, slowly turning the colour of coconut fudge, was Patrick Walsh.

24

Caroline was keen not to spook Patrick by questioning him too heavily at the fete, but she did at least need to make her presence known. It was usually the case that first-time — and even some experienced — criminals had a tendency to change their behaviour, particularly once they knew the police were interested in them. For now, their job was to sit back and observe.