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She knew it. “Yes?”
    “Ah, you won’t know me. My name’s Dylan Scott and I spoke to Sandra Butler—the hairdresser, you know?”
    “Oh?”
    “Yes. She said I should chat to you. It’s a bit embarrassing, to tell the truth, but I need to find Anita Champion.”
    Yvonne’s hands were sweating so much, she half expected the phone to slide from her grasp. “Oh? Well, I’m sorry, but I’ve no idea—”
    “I know, but you might be able to help. Might we talk perhaps?” At her hesitation, he said, “Tell you what, I’m staying at the Pennine Hotel. I don’t know what you have planned for this evening, but I hate dining alone. Perhaps you could join me?”
    Damn it, why not? It was no big deal and, God knows, it was ages since she’d been out. Ages since she could afford it. She’d skipped lunch, there was nothing in the cupboards or the freezer, and, according to Sandra, he was all right. Not bad looking and a good tipper, she’d said.
    “Okay.”
    “Great. Thanks so much. About seven-thirty?”
    “Fine.”
    It was no big deal, she reminded herself yet again. Let some other sucker buy the drinks for a change.

Chapter Five
    The Pennine Hotel was on Market Street, the road that sliced Dawson’s Clough in two. A solid stone building, erected in 1865 according to the plaque above the entrance, it looked very grand indeed from the car park. Inside, it showed signs of wear. The carpets, once a rich blue, were threadbare in places, the lift creaked from old age, and several light bulbs needed replacing.
    Dylan’s bedroom was freezing. A massive old radiator beneath the tall sash window was hot to the touch but was having no effect on such a large, high-ceilinged room.
    The bathroom didn’t even have a radiator. A small brown stain in the wash basin, an ill-fitting toilet seat, a huge white bath, several thick towels, but no radiator.
    He sat on the bed, then got up to drag a chair close to the radiator, and phoned the marital home, ready to reason with Bev.
    “Mum’s gone out,” Luke thwarted those plans, “so Cathy’s stopping with me. We’re having a game on the Xbox.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “She’s rubbish, Dad.”
    “Girls are. So where’s your mum gone?”
    “Dunno, but she changed her dress three times before she left. Must be important.”
    A Monday should be a drink with the girls at one of their homes. She wouldn’t change dresses for that. She’d wear jeans, ready for an evening of chocolate, wine and gossip consumption.
    “Perhaps she’s gone to the cinema with Lucy.” But she’d wear jeans for that, too.
    “No,” Luke said. “Lucy just phoned.”
    “Oh.”
    “Will you be back for the match on Saturday?” Luke clearly had more pressing things on his mind.
    “I will. Tell your mum I’ll call round about eleven.”
    “Great.”
    With his son happy, Dylan pushed all thoughts of his wife’s date from his mind. Besides, it wouldn’t be a date. She was probably going to a school function. Bev would be missing him as much as he was missing her. She’d soon come round. She always did.
    He tapped in another number.
    “Dylan?” Holly Champion answered on the third ring.
    “The very same. I’ve nothing to tell you, I’m afraid, but I’m about to have dinner with Yvonne Yates. She’s on your list, but I wondered what you remembered about her.”
    “I remember her well, probably better than any of Mum’s friends. She used to dote on me, and was always buying me presents. Mum said it was because she hadn’t any children of her own. She thought Yvonne was lonely. I quite liked her, probably because she made me laugh. She used to get drunk and fall over a lot. That’s funny when you’re a kid.”
    Dylan hoped she wouldn’t fall over this evening. “Anything else?”
    “Not really. She was always smartly dressed. She worked at the local estate agent’s, so I suppose she had to be because she used to show people around the expensive houses. Her husband,