Joe looked at his colleagues, all intent, all taking notes. They understood how important it was to Vera that this end quickly. The case had been personal for her from the beginning. It seemed even more personal now.
‘So,’ Vera continued, ‘Constance either left the house with the killer, dressed for outdoors in a waterproof jacket and walking boots, or she’d arranged to meet him somewhere. If she drove away from the bungalow with him, did someone see them? Or a car parked close by? If she met him elsewhere, where might that have been? We know her own car is still being investigated as a possible murder scene in the lab, so she didn’t drive herself. She was a fit woman, but she wouldn’t have walked all the way to the middle of Brockburn forest. They’re a nebby bunch in Kirkhill. I can’t believe nobody saw her.’ She stopped and looked out at them. ‘So that’s for the rest of you. Let’s have you all in Kirkhill talking to the locals. We know that any sighting of Constance Browne on the Monday morning will be significant.’
She was just about to send them on their way, when Holly stood up. ‘You talk about the killer as him,’ she said. ‘Could it have been a woman, do you think? Wouldn’t Constance have trusted a woman coming to the door, or phoning and asking to meet, more easily than a man? We think she might have been killed because Lorna had confided in her, perhaps about the identity of her son’s father. Surely, she wouldn’t have gone off with the man she suspected of being Lorna’s killer.’
There was a moment of silence. Joe thought Holly had a point and was about to speak up in support, when Vera answered, her voice more conciliatory than he would have expected. Usually, she hated to be challenged. ‘You’re right,’ she said at last. ‘Of course Constance would have been less wary of a woman than a man. We think she was moved from the place where we parked to the patch of clear fell. She could have been driven by someone with a four-wheel-drive and a strong nerve. I wouldn’t have wanted to do it in the Land Rover, but it would be possible. Or she was dragged. A strong woman could have done that as well as a man. So, no closed minds here, please, everyone. Thanks for pointing that out, Hol.’
Joe thought that perhaps after all the night in the cold had transformed Vera. As Holly had said, they should look out for her.
But Vera hadn’t finished yet. ‘And on the point of strong women, this morning I’ve been doing a bit of digging into the history of Dorothy Felling. It seems she wasn’t the brilliant lawyer we’ve been led to believe. Apparently, she made a monumental cock-up on an employment case and cost her client, and so her chambers, an eye-watering sum in compensation. She was forced to resign. So, while she might enjoy skivvying at the big house, her move to the country wasn’t entirely voluntary.’
They stared at her. ‘Well, I had to do something while Joe here was taking so long to organize my bacon stottie, so I got on the phone to her former boss. Again, you were right, Holly. We should have done that earlier.’ She sighed. ‘I’m not quite sure how that could be relevant to Lorna’s murder, though.’
As they were leaving the room, Vera spoke again. ‘While you’re in Kirkhill, Hol, drop in to Brockburn and speak to Harriet. That’s another strong woman, with secrets to hide. I got off to a wrong start with her and she’ll not confide in me. I’m too much of a pleb. See if you can get her to admit her husband was having an affair with Jill Falstone. The rest of the valley knows, so I’m sure she does too.’
Holly nodded – as shocked, it seemed, as Joe was.
The vicar was hard to pin down. Joe knew that her name was Jane Grant and she was in charge of four parishes. One church she only visited on the first Sunday of the month; others had more regular services. He had a mobile number for her, but it took five attempts before she answered his call: ‘Sorry! I seem to spend most of my time on the road and this time of year is a nightmare. Every primary school in the county is holding its nativity play this week and they all expect me to be there.’ There was no stress in her voice, though. She seemed to delight in the activity.
‘Where will you be today? It is rather important that I talk to you.’
In the end they agreed to meet at the vicarage in Kirkhill at lunchtime. ‘If I’m not back by the time you get there, my husband will let you in.’
Joe had been expecting to find her in a large Victorian building close to the church, but it seemed that had been sold and turned into apartments. A new and smaller house had been built in the former vicarage grounds. It was square, functional, and rather ugly. He arrived at the same time as the vicar, who was younger than he’d been expecting, in her thirties, bristling with the kind of energy that got things done. He parked next
