Caroline led Dexter through into her office and tapped the phone number Dexter gave her into her office landline, which she put on speakerphone. ‘Over to you, Columbo.’

Dexter waited for the call to connect and Howard Smallwood to answer.

‘Mr Smallwood? Dexter Antoine from Rutland Police. We met at Otters recently.’

‘Ah, yes! I remember. How can I help? Have you caught your killer yet?’

‘Almost. I was actually wondering if we might be able to pick your brains a little more.’

‘I’m not sure you’ll find much, but you’re welcome to have a go. What can I do you for?’

‘It’s about Normanton Church. We think the killer picked that site for a reason, and we think it might’ve had some historical significance of some sort. We were wondering if you knew of anything in the church’s history which might have made it stand out, somehow.’

‘Well, you know about the deconsecration and raising of the church floor, don’t you?’

‘Bits, yeah.’

‘That was all as a result of the planned flooding. Without that, the church wouldn’t be there now. It was a community effort that saved it and got the work done.’

‘Do you know who organised it?’

Howard exhaled heavily. ‘Not off the top of my head. I’ve got a copy of the petition in my archives somewhere. Might take me a few days to dig it out, but I can take a look. Mind you, I imagine everyone will be long gone by now. I was only a boy at the time, myself. Anyone who was an adult then will be in their seventies at the very least now.’

‘If you could take a look, I’d really appreciate it.’

‘Of course. Not a problem. Sorry I can’t be of more help.’

‘No, please don’t apologise. You’ve been great. I’m just sorry we can’t be more specific in what we’re looking for.’

‘Well, if anything else pops to mind, you’ve got my number. I’m going away next week, though — late Sunday, early hours of Monday — so if you need me after that I’ll be incommunicado.’

‘Don’t worry, we hope to have everything sewn up before then,’ Dexter said.

‘I hope so. Shout if you need me!’

Caroline chuckled as Dexter ended the call. ‘Mad as a box of frogs.’

‘No madder than us bumbling about like a tit in a trance.’

‘Well,’ Caroline said, looking up at the clock on the wall, ‘it’s about time we headed off to see Arthur Clifton. The site’ll be open by now. He’s our only man with a motive, after all.’