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the landowner, know what we are doing. But so far we have observed two skeletons.’
    ‘So far?’ Again Farrent’s voice became menacing.
    ‘Yes, we are still digging. Our ground penetrating radar indicates something beneath the topmost skeletons.’
    ‘I see.’
    ‘So we’ll keep . . .’ Hennessey stopped speaking as a small red car, a BMW, drove up the drive towards the bungalow crunching the gravel. Both he and Yellich turned to their right and watched it approach.
    ‘Mrs Farrent,’ Thomas Farrent announced in the manner Hennessey and Yellich had often encountered of men referring to their wives. The woman, who appeared to be of the same age group as Thomas Farrent, drove past the door of the bungalow glancing curiously at Hennessey and Yellich as she did so.
    ‘Best burglar deterrent there is,’ Farrent said as the red BMW drove by. ‘A cat can’t even walk on gravel without making a sound. You have to be close to hear it but it’s true – not even a cat.’
    ‘Oh I wholly agree,’ Hennessey replied. ‘I do so wholly agree.’
    The officers watched as Mrs Farrent drove the BMW into the open garage and continued to watch as moments later she reappeared carrying her shopping in two eco-friendly straw bags. She wore a blue cardigan over a blue blouse, and a darker blue three-quarter length skirt, and wore blue sports shoes.
    ‘Mrs Farrent’s colour is blue,’ Thomas Farrent explained with an unexpected tone of apology in his voice. ‘It’s her blue eyes, you see.’
    ‘Ah.’ Hennessey nodded.
    ‘These two gentlemen are from the police,’ Thomas Farrent announced as Mrs Farrent approached. As she drew nearer Hennessey saw how powerfully she was holding on to her youth. She said nothing but both Hennessey and Yellich noticed a look of fear in her eyes and both thought her smile was disingenuous. They both sensed an insecure and timid woman. ‘About something in a field,’ Farrent explained. ‘nothing to fret about.’
    ‘Can you tell us who rents that field?’ Hennessey asked, turning once again to Farrent.
    ‘Bowler rents it. Francis Bowler.’
    ‘Where do we find him?’
    ‘The white-painted farmhouse. A small house. Left out of our gate, then go about a mile and a half. There will most likely be an ancient VW in the drive . . . if he’s not at the pub. It’s all that wretched mendicant can afford, an ancient VW . . . it’s red underneath all the dirt. His farm is called Blue Jay Farm.’
    Mrs Farrent slid past the two police officers and entered the bungalow as Thomas Farrent opened the door a little to allow her to enter. Without saying a word Farrent turned and followed his wife, shutting the door on Hennessey and Yellich.
    ‘Well, thank you anyway,’ Hennessey addressed the solid-looking door of the bungalow. ‘We appreciate your help in this matter.’ He and Yellich turned and walked to where Hennessey had parked their car.
    The police constable looked up at Dr D’Acre and Webster who stood at the edge of the grave. Both thought that he looked weary, and well he might. Removing skeletons from deep holes is a task which will reach even the strongest constitutions, emotionally, as well as physically. ‘This is definitely compact soil now, sir . . . ma’am.’ The constable wiped his brow. ‘I am certain to be the first human being to get down this far.’
    ‘Very good.’ Webster nodded. ‘Thank you. As you say, no point in digging any deeper. If we do need to go deeper for some reason, then we can always return. The hole isn’t going anywhere. Even it it’s filled in, it’s still not going anywhere.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’ The constable put the spade on the side of the hole, levered himself out and brushed the soil from his overalls.
    Louise D’Acre and Webster walked slowly and solemnly back to where the skeletons had been laid out, one beside the other, in a row, behind the screen.
    ‘It’s a family,’ Dr D’Acre announced, as she and Reginald Webster stood side by