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spring backwards. 'Let's see if we can find out, shall we?' With a nod to Boyce he strode from the hall. Billy hurried after him. The village store, a few minutes' walk away down Highfield's only paved road, was situated between the pub and the post office. Alf Birney, plump, with a fringe of grey hair like a monk's tonsure, came from behind the counter to show them into a curtained-off toom at the back of the shop. 'It's not right this should have happened,' he muttered. 'Not to a lady like Mrs Fletcher. Not to any of them.' He shifted a carton of custard powder off a chair to make room for Madden. 'I can remember when she was a child. She used to come to the shop every Saturday to buy her sweets. Little Lucy He left them there, and a minute later his daughter came in. May Birney was no more than sixteen. She was dressed in a dun-coloured work smock, her bobbed hair cut in a fringe across her pale forehead. 'Get it straight in your mind now, girl.' Her father's voice came from beyond the curtain. 'Tell the inspector exactly what you heard.' Miss Birney stood before them, nervously twisting her fingers. Madden looked at Billy and nodded. Taken by surprise - he'd assumed the inspector would handle the questioning -- Billy cleared his throat. 'It's about this business of the whistle you say you heard. Or didn't hear.' He spoke loudly, and watched her flush and steal a glance at Madden, who was seated at a table in the middle of the room. 'You were out walking the dog, you said,' Billy prompted her. May Birney stared at her feet. 'Tell us again what happened.' The girl said something inaudible. 'What?' Billy heard himself almost shouting. 'I didn't hear. What did you say?' 'I said I told you before but you said I was imagining it.' She spoke very quickly looking down. 'I never said that--' Billy checked himself. 'I asked you if you were sure you'd heard a police whistle and you said, no, you weren't--' 'I said like a police whistle.' 'All right, like a police whistle, but then you said perhaps you'd been mistaken and you hadn't heard it at all. Do you remember saying that?' The girl fell silent again. Billy stepped nearer. He felt Madden's eyes on him. 'Now listen to me, May Birney. This is a serious matter. I don't need to remind you what happened at Melling Lodge on Sunday night. Stop saying you're not sure or you don't remember. Either you heard something or you didn't. And if you're making all this up . . .!' The girl turned bright red. Madden spoke. 'Would you like to sit down, May?' He drew up another chair for her. After a moment's hesitation, the girl complied. 'Now let's see, I'm a little puzzled, what time did this happen?' 'Around nine o'clock, sir. Might have been a little later.' 'Was it still light?' 'Just getting dark.' 'You were walking the dog?' 'Yes, sir, Bessie. She's getting old, you see, and needs to be taken, but if you put her outside, she just flops down, so Mum and me, we take her down to the stream and make her walk a bit.' She kept her eyes on Madden's face. 'Then you heard what sounded like a police whistle?' 'Yes, sir, like that. The same sort of sound.' 'Just once?' May Birney hesitated, her brow creased in concentration. 'Well, sir, it was like I said' - she shot a glance at Billy - 'first it was there, then it sort of faded away, and then it came back just for a moment.' Madden's brow creased. 'Was there a breeze blowing?' he asked. The girl's face lit up. 'Yes, sir, that was it. That's what happened. It came and went on the wind. I heard it twice. But it was so faint. . .' 'You wondered if you'd heard it at all?' She nodded vigorously. Shooting another defiant glance at Billy, she said, 'I just wasn't sure.' 'But you are now?' Madden leaned forward. 'Take your time, May. Think about it.' But she paused for only a moment. 'Yes, sir,' she said. 'Now I'm sure. Positive.' On their way back to the church hall, Madden paused outside the Rose and Crown. A low brick wall enclosed the cobbled yard in front