‘Right. This isn’t something I’d normally say, but tell them to slow the hell down. As soon as they determine someone as the rightful heir, that person’s a sitting duck. We can’t afford a third death on our hands. Not if we’re as close as we think we might be.’

‘On it. Shall I take these papers and things back with me, then? Seeing as you don’t want to break any rules or regulations.’

Caroline raised the corner of her mouth at Dexter’s subtext. ‘Y’know what, if you did accidentally leave them here I don’t suppose it’d be the biggest problem in the world.’

48

Shortly after Dexter left that evening, Caroline went to bed. She woke up late the next morning, having slept more soundly than she had in a long time. She had no idea why, but it felt like something within her had settled.

She spent Sunday afternoon looking through the research and history notes Dexter had left on the coffee table. She’d made good use of the Companies House website, double-checking none of the other businesses existed anymore — not that she doubted Dexter’s thoroughness — and made notes of the names of their directors. But no names stood out. Nothing seemed to tie in with anything they already knew.

Dexter, on the other hand, had been more than busy. In a matter of hours he’d managed to move things on with Edward Picton and had arranged a rendezvous for that evening. Dexter, under his alter ego, had claimed to be a descendant of one of the families who’d lived in the Hambletons before the flooding. Fortunately, he’d had the foresight to get hold of a list of those families — another document Caroline was yet to get round to — on the off-chance Picton managed to rumble him on that front. As far as Edward Picton was concerned, Dexter’s alter-ego Nick Connor was a descendant of the Locke family, who’d lived in Middle Hambleton.

They’d arranged to meet at the Wheatsheaf in Greetham. Caroline had, of course, taken the opportunity to point out that this backed up her theory that every other pub in Rutland was called the Wheatsheaf. Neither of them knew what Edward Picton looked like, but he’d told Dexter’s alter-ego Nick he’d turn up in a blue Ford Focus and would be wearing a black shirt and jeans. They’d arrived early, having planned to park up and wait for his arrival. It would be advantageous for them to get a good look at Picton before moving in, especially as they were without the necessary backup. With everything being done very much off the record, they couldn’t afford to take any personal risks.