‘Virtual Private Network. Basically, every computer has an IP address. That’s its position on the internet, if you like. Now, with a VPN, rather than me sending you an email and it bouncing from my machine to yours, it goes via dozens of other computers on the way, making the location of the original sender impossible to work out. You can usually only see the IP address of the last machine involved, which won’t be the one the email was actually sent from.’

‘Right. And the library’s IP address could be that last machine involved? Bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, absolutely. We don’t think that’s the case. But there’s still a chance the sender wasn’t even in the library.’

‘What? How?’

‘They could’ve got onto the network from outside. Could be as simple as connecting to the wifi from a car parked up by the building. We won’t know until the CCTV comes back.’

Caroline nodded and thanked her. Sara was always one step ahead, constantly on the ball. At a time when it seemed the investigation was finally getting its first real breakthrough, colleagues like Sara were gold dust.

28

The wait for the CCTV footage from the library seemed interminable. For all Rutland’s differences compared to London, it seemed they had one thing in common: waiting for councils to act.

Caroline felt surer than ever that Patrick Walsh was their man. She’d come across enough shifty people in her time to know when someone was playing her and trying to hide something. And although that wasn’t enough in itself, as far as she was concerned there was more than enough linking him to Roger Clifton’s murder.

Even more frustratingly, someone appeared to have replaced the coffee granules in the kitchenette with a different brand. She sipped the murky brown liquid, trying to ignore the taste and focus on the caffeine hit, when Sara Henshaw came in.

‘Sara, you’re smiling. Please tell me it’s because the CCTV footage has come back, and not because you’ve got shares in whoever makes this godawful piss.’

‘Wrong on both counts. But it’s either going to throw us a massive bone or put an even bigger spanner in the works. Remember Roger Clifton’s brother, who lives in Spain? The present-day Arthur. He’s back.’

‘Back? In the UK?’

‘In Rutland. It looks like he’s going to inherit the company. Apparently, there was a cloak and dagger meeting with a solicitor earlier this morning. Alice Clifton got wind of it and phoned the police. She was going apeshit, apparently, screaming that Arthur had killed Roger to get control of the company.’

‘On what basis? He wasn’t a shareholder or director, was he?’

‘Something to do with the will. Reading between the lines, Roger had cut Alice out of it and there was some sort of extra documentation leaving the business to Arthur.’