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His facial expression gave nothing away.
    ‘You may have heard that a dead body was found in the area recently. We’re investigating the circumstances of the death.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘Have you seen or heard anything unusual during the past week?’
    ‘Someone called a couple of hours ago and asked that question,’ he said.
    ‘Is that right? They’re really on the ball, the local bobbies, aren’t they? Was it you they spoke to?’
    ‘No. But I heard about it. And my answer is the same. No, we haven’t seen anything unusual. But if we do, we’ll let you know.’
    ‘How many people live here on the farm?’ Sophie asked.
    ‘Three. But we don’t work it. And you shouldn’t have been nosing about, not without a warrant.’
    ‘We didn’t get an answer from the door, so we were just checking to see if anyone was in the sheds or stable, Mr . . ?’
    ‘Smith. And there isn’t anybody else, so there’s no need to check further.’
    Sophie looked across at the other man, who was leaning against the side of the truck. He was short but very heavily built, with powerful shoulders.
    ‘Who’s your assistant?’ she asked.
    ‘Mr Jones.’
    ‘Do you own the farm, Mr Smith?’
    ‘No. We’ve just rented it for a few months. We’re leaving soon. The owners are selling up,’ he said.
    ‘Who are the owners?’
    ‘No idea. We only deal with the letting agency.’
    ‘And they are?’ said Sophie.
    ‘Can’t remember,’ he said in a flat voice. ‘Why is it important to you?’
    ‘Well, you know the police, Mr Smith. Always nosey. Sifters of information, that’s what we are. You’re fairly close to the shore of Poole Harbour here, aren’t you? It can only be half a mile or so.’
    ‘Couldn’t say. Never go down there. Anyway, we’ve got work to get on with,’ said the man.
    ‘Well, fine, Mr Smith. I hope you’re happy in your work.’ She smiled at him, but her eyes were cold. Glancing at her watch, she turned to Marsh. ‘We’d better be on our way, Barry. Things to do. Information to sift.’ She turned back to Smith. ‘Thank you for your help. It’s been very illuminating.’
    They walked towards the car. Sophie called to the short, stocky man standing by the vehicles. ‘Good morning, Mr Jones!’
    There was no response, not even a flicker in his eyes.
    ‘What a pair,’ Marsh said as they drove away. ‘Enough to give anyone the creeps.’
    ‘They’re thugs, Barry. Whether they have anything to do with our dead body is another question. Smith and Jones, I ask you. My bet is that they’re here to do a final tidying up. Neither of them looked like the man Allbright and Holly saw. Assuming that chap made a quick getaway after the visit this morning, those two are what’s known as enforcers. They specialise in getting rid of evidence and loose ends by any means necessary, often using intimidation and violence. When we get back to the station, I want their van traced. And I think we’ll get this track watched. I’d like to know where they go when they leave. We’ll stop somewhere within sight and call in Jimmy or someone from the station to take over.’
    ‘What do you think they’re up to, ma’am?’
    ‘No idea, Barry. But I’m sure it’s nothing we’d approve of.’
    Once they were back on the more even surface of the lane, Sophie looked for a pull-in that gave a view of the farm track. There was a driveway almost opposite which led to another farm, so she turned into it. Marsh walked up to the farmhouse to ask for information about the occupants of Brookway Farm, while Sophie called for Melsom to take over the watch. Marsh was back quickly.
    ‘He says he never sees them. No one knows anything about them. They don’t work the farm, so there’s little contact. He won’t say anything to them about my questions, by the way. I know him from the local football club. He’s a good bloke.’
    ‘According to the database, the pick-up belongs to a hire company. I want the details checked out