“Thanks,” said Annie. “And you are?”

“PC Mellors, ma’am. Stephanie Mellors. Most people just call me Steph.”

Annie gestured for PC Mellors to follow her a short distance from Roger Stanford. “Tell me, Steph,” she said, “what do you think? First impressions?”

“You mean did he do it?”

“Well, if that’s where you want to start.”

Steph shook her head. “He’s gutted, ma’am. A blubbering wreck. You can tell. I don’t think he’s faking it.”

“You look a bit peaky, yourself.”

“You haven’t seen her yet, ma’am. It’s never easy, something like this.”

“Too true. What do you think happened?”

“From my limited experience, I’d say she was either hit by a car or beaten to death.”

“Have you any idea who she is?”

“No. There’s no ID, and as far as I can tell from . . . you know . . . I’ve never seen her before in my life. It’s such a strange thing. She’s not wearing a stitch of clothing.”

“OK. Let’s have a word with Mr. Stanford.”

Roger Stanford was still leaning on the hood of the patrol car with his head in his hands. He wasn’t crying, Annie noticed, just propping up his head as if it were too heavy with images of violent death to hold itself up. He would need to be investigated, being the person who had found the body, but he didn’t need to be treated like a suspect. “Mr. Stanford,” she said, touching his arm. He raised his head, a blank expression on his face, as if he had been startled out of a deep sleep. Annie introduced herself. Gerry stood beside her, notebook at the ready. “What time did you find the body?” Annie asked.

“It would have been about a quarter to nine.”

“Is this journey part of a routine, or are you on holiday?”

“Daily routine. I live in Bradham and I work in Eastvale. Clinton Estate Agents. I usually pass here about a quarter to nine. That’s how I know. I keep track of my times.”

“There are quicker ways.”

“No nicer ones, though. I always make sure I have plenty of time.”

Annie looked him up and down. “You go to work dressed like that?”

“Oh, no.” He pointed to the little bundle strapped to the back of his saddle. “I change at the office. We have a shower there, too.”

“Very civilized.” Annie made a mental note to take in the bundle of work clothes for forensic analysis. Maybe he didn’t do it, but she couldn’t go around letting things like that slip by. “So you make this same journey every morning?”

“And evening. More or less. Every weekday.”

“Do you ever notice anyone else using the road?”