through the small hymn book resting behind the seat in front.
The coffin stood in full view: solid, real.
The minister cleared his throat.
Elder was remembering standing at the foot of the cobbled street leading down from Lincoln Cathedral, watching Maddy as she walked away. 'Goodnight, Frank. Take care.' Waiting for her to turn and smile. She never did.
The hymn was mumbled tunelessly, voices falling silent till only the echo of the pre-recorded organ wheezed out the last few lines.
'Let us pray.'
Clad in a black corduroy coat, black skirt, black boots, Vanessa Taylor began to cry and, turning, Karen pushed a tissue into her hand.
Given the occasion, the assistant commissioner was in full dress uniform. He spoke of Maddy as a model officer, a dedicated servant of the public, a brave young woman whose life had cruelly been snuffed out. George Mallory, a pale carnation somewhat incongruous in the buttonhole of his grey wool suit, testified to the honour it had been to have such a resourceful officer as Maddy under his command, if only for so sadly short a time. Referring back to the operation to arrest James Grant, he recalled with pride the moments of extreme danger when she had stood, unflinching, at his side.
Maddy's mother sat, bent forward, at the front, head down.
Vanessa Taylor continued to cry.
The congregation stood reluctantly and laboured through another hymn.
With a slight jerk, the mechanism that would carry the coffin forward clanked to life.
As the coffin passed through the heavy curtains and disappeared from sight, Elder felt Maddy's breath pass, cold, across his face.
Desperate for a cigarette, Karen Shields stepped between the wreaths and floral tributes which had been spread out on display at the rear of the building. Feeling for the roll of mints at the bottom of her bag, she pulled out with it an old shopping list and two ragged tissues. New Year's Eve just gone. Drink don't drive. She had spent the evening with three old school friends, a tradition stretching back more years than any of them liked to remember. Two of them were married now with growing kids; one, finally out, was living with her female partner in leafy Letchworth Garden City and enjoying the frisson they caused whenever they elected to walk the length of the main street, hand in hand. Karen had got used to turning up and leaving alone.
Seeing Elder standing alone, she walked across to join him.
'I used to think I preferred this to burial,' Karen said. 'Now I'm not so sure.'
'When it comes down to it, I doubt there's much to choose.'
'Soulless though, isn't it?'
Elder didn't see how it could be anything else.
'You went to see Kennet,' Karen said, changing tack.
'That's right.'
'What did you think?'
'Seemed straightforward enough.'
'That's pretty much what Mike said. Besides, his alibi seems to hold up. On holiday in Spain with his girlfriend. Didn't get back till the day Maddy's body was found.' Despite her best efforts, the mint had fragmented between her teeth. 'Sherry said something about a watch?'
Elder nodded. 'Maddy's watch. Yes. Seems to be missing.'
Over Karen's shoulder he could see Mallory and a shorter, sharp-faced man in earnest conversation.
'Who's that? With Mallory?'
'Maurice Repton, his DCI.'
As if realising they were being watched, both men turned their heads and Mallory, smiling, raised a hand in cheery greeting.
'This Grant business Mallory mentioned,' Elder said. 'No mileage in it for us?'
'I don't think so.'
'Might be worth taking another look, just the same. In the absence of anything else.' Seeing Maddy's mother leaning on her sister's arm as she bent towards one of the wreaths, Elder excused himself and walked over to express his regrets.
Vanessa stubbed out her cigarette beneath the low heel of her shoe and began to walk towards the main gate.. She hadn't reckoned on the service affecting her so badly, embarrassed almost by the fuss she'd made, the way she'd drawn attention to herself. But all the way through she'd been unable to suppress the images of Maddy that had played out across her mind: Maddy laughing, listening, pretending to be shocked by Vanessa's ribaldry, her good humour laced, towards the end, with traces of fear Vanessa had failed to take seriously. You're not getting weird on me, are you? Freaking out? Hearing the car approaching behind her, Vanessa moved closer to the side.
Instead of driving past, the car slowed to a halt.
'Where you heading?' The grey hair on Mallory's head seemed to have been recently brushed or combed.
'Down to the Tube.'
'It's a long walk. Hop in, we'll give you a lift.'
While Vanessa hesitated, the nearside door swung open and Mallory, welcoming, shifted back along the rear seat leaving room.
'All right, thanks.'
'Excellent. Drive on, driver.' Though the carnation had disappeared from his buttonhole, the detective superintendent was still in an expansive mood. More wedding than funeral.
'PC Taylor, isn't it?'
'Yes.'
'Vanessa.'
'Yes.'
'You and Maddy, bosom pals.'
'We were good friends, yes.' Tears pricked again at the backs of her eyes.
'Go ahead,' Mallory said. 'Let it out. Bit of genuine emotion. No need to be ashamed.'
'No, it's all right…'
'Maurice, let the lady have a handkerchief, there's a good chap.'
One of the last men in the twenty-first century to actually carry a handkerchief, washed and ironed, Repton swivelled round in the front passenger seat and passed it to Vanessa with a manicured hand.
'Thank you.' Vanessa sniffed and dabbed her eyes.
'See those women weeping and wailing on the news,' Mallory was saying. 'Iran, Iraq. Can't help but wonder sometimes if they haven't got the right idea. Better than keeping it all bottled up inside like the rest of us. Eh, Maurice, what d'you think? Vanessa, eh?'
Vanessa said she wasn't sure. Maurice Repton didn't seem to care.
They were marooned at a junction between a woman struggling to get an Isuzu Trooper into first gear and an articulated lorry on its way to the nearest Asda.
'You were close, you and Maddy,' Mallory said, moving a little closer himself.
'Yes, I think so.'
'No secrets, that sort of thing.'
'Pretty much.'
'Friendship between two women, it's a wonderful thing. Nothing held back. Open, honest. Not like me and
