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Now it’s just a puzzle.”
    The inspector continued to look at him just long enough to register his disapproval. Then he turned his gaze to Hazel. “Thank you for your help, Constable. We’ll get formal statements off everyone, but as Mr. Sperrin”—he pronounced the name carefully, the way you might handle something sticky—“points out, this isn’t a recent event, there’s no reason to connect it to any of you people. Even Lord Byrfield”—his lips formed a letter M before he remembered and corrected himself—“was probably a babe in arms when this happened. Not much point asking what you remember.”
    Byrfield was looking thoughtful. “You could talk to my mother.”
    Norris was taken aback, as if he thought earls arrived in the world in a different manner from normal folk. “She still lives here?”
    Byrfield gave a slightly strained smile. “Oh yes. She has an apartment in the house. I’ll take you, if you like.”
    The inspector considered. “Maybe later. No point troubling her until I know what questions to ask. Right now I don’t have even an approximate date of death. When I’ve had a preliminary report from Forensics, then I’m sure it would be helpful to talk to her. Er—I’m assuming she’s still—er…”
    â€œIn full possession of her faculties? Believe it,” said Pete Byrfield fervently.
    After a moment Hazel touched his arm gently. “Come on, let’s leave them to it. There’s nothing we can do here except get in the way.”
    He blinked, then gave her a grateful grin. As they walked back up the water meadow he said wistfully, “Isn’t it funny how the world changes? An hour ago, all I had to worry about was whether or not I’d got a Neolithic tomb on my land. Now it turns out that for most of my life there’s been a small child buried within sight of my house and nobody knew. I played down here when I was a boy. I don’t doubt I scrambled over that mound along with all the others. It makes you feel a bit … well, funny.”
    â€œI think it’s rather nice,” said Hazel. “That even after he was dead, he still had other kids coming around to play.”
    Byrfield smiled. He’d forgotten—or rather, not forgotten, just not thought about it recently—that she’d always had the ability to make him smile. They hadn’t been close friends when they were growing up—four years is a big age difference in your teens—but she’d always been somewhere on his radar, in the same way he’d always been somewhere on hers. He’d gone away to agricultural college, then she’d gone away to university, and it’s doubtful if either had given the other more than a passing thought in all the years since. But a link remained, and the link was Byrfield itself. Only in the most literal sense did Byrfield belong to Pete. In every other way Pete belonged to Byrfield, and so did the daughter of his handyman. Land has a grip like iron.
    â€œI’m glad you were here,” said Byrfield. A thought occurred to him. “Does this mean you’ll be staying?”
    Hazel hadn’t thought about it. She thought about it now. “We probably should, if only for a few days. Until Detective Inspector Norris says he’s finished with us. It’s not as if either Gabriel or I has anything to rush back to.”
    â€œGood,” said Byrfield quietly.

 
    CHAPTER 6
    I N FACT, A SH had an appointment with his therapist on Tuesday, which he now doubted he’d be back in Norbold in time to keep. He excused himself as the party returned to the house and called her from the privacy of his room.
    He wasn’t ashamed of having a therapist. Hazel knew anyway, and he suspected the others wouldn’t be surprised. But he was a private man. He avoided doing any personal business in public.
    Laura Fry,