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confidential. It would be simply a pointer towards the identity of someone choosing to threaten you.’
    Jason said tersely, ‘No. There’s nothing.’
    Bert knew that he really needed to question them separately. Wives and husbands had their own secrets, even from each other. Affairs, outbursts of violence, debts incurred, incidents from a previous life. People would confess things when questioned alone which they would never reveal in the presence of a partner or spouse, however cosy and intimate they seemed together.
    Hook grinned, closing his questioning, wondering where he went from here even as he said, ‘I think it’s time we had a knock round your little golf course, Jason. Help to maintain my status as a bona fide visitor, and tune me up for a no-quarter-given game with John Lambert on Sunday.’
    It was a pleasant course, and tricky enough to lure the energetic but rather erratic golfer that was Bert Hook into a couple of high-scoring situations. But he played well enough on the other holes to beat his host two and one and trouser the modest pound which was their stake. He was introduced to seven of the residents as they played twice round the nine-hole course. That helped to justify his presence here and allay his slight feelings of guilt about using a wild goose chase to be out here playing golf on a Friday. None of the people he met seemed a possible writer of poison-pen letters – but you never knew, at this stage.
    He locked his clubs in the boot of the car and walked round the lake with a couple they had seen on the course and a highly friendly Labrador. They gazed across the tranquil lake, where a solitary dinghy drifted with a fisherman sitting motionless beside his rod. The Labrador owner identified the dinghy occupant for him. ‘That’s Wally Keane. Decent golfer and highly skilled bowls player. Knows every yard of this site and probably just how deep that lake is at every point. Bit of a recluse. We think he sails to get away from his wife. Debbie’s into everyone’s business and spends most of her time chattering incessantly about it. But she’s quite harmless really, and even useful, at times – if you want to know anything about Twin Lakes, Debbie’s your woman.’
    It was almost as if they’d been preparing Hook for what was to follow. When he arrived back at the Ramsbottoms’ holiday home, a cheerful, grey-haired woman was in earnest conversation with Lisa, who introduced him. ‘This is Debbie Keane. Lives here for eleven months of the year and knows every blade of grass and every bit of scandal.’
    â€˜Oh, go on with you!’ said Debbie, who was obviously delighted with the description. ‘Are you thinking of coming to join us here, Mr Hook?’
    â€˜Oh, Bert’s just a visitor of ours for the day,’ said Lisa hastily. ‘He’s been knocking a ball around the golf course with Jason.’
    â€˜And what do you do for a living, Bert?’ asked Debbie imperturbably.
    Hook took the plunge. ‘I’m a police officer, Mrs Keane. Detective Sergeant in the CID, actually.’
    â€˜Oo-er! Better watch my Ps and Qs now, hadn’t I, Lisa?’ Debbie, who looked to be in her middle fifties, vibrated with the same giggle that had animated her thirty years earlier.
    â€˜As a matter of fact, Mrs Keane, there are a few questions I’d like to ask you, when you’ve finished your cup of tea. It won’t take long, but I think it would be best if we spoke in private.’

FOUR
    G eoffrey Tiler took his time selecting the plants. There wasn’t a lot of ground available, so you wanted to be sure you made the most of it. His partner thought Geoffrey knew all about gardening. Even though he declared repeatedly that he didn’t, his new companion saw that only as a becoming modesty in him. It was good to have someone who saw only the best in you.
    Geoff decided on begonias and