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inside.’
    Z smiled at the man, used by now to her directness. ‘You do that. Then we’re all covered.’
    â€˜Yes, sergeant. Ma’am.’ He retreated, leaving room for the Jeep to sweep round the driveway and find its parking place to the rear. By the time the two women had alighted he was back.
    â€˜I’m to take note of both you ladies’ mobile numbers, to pass to following duty officers,’ he said gruffly. He handed over a ring of keys. ‘These are for the locked rooms. I have to warn you nothing’s been …er, cleared up yet.’

    â€˜We understand,’ Anna Plumley acknowledged sombrely. ‘I’m sure I’ve encountered worse before.’
    But not family, Z allowed. Surely, sooner or later, the full force of the tragedy was going to hit the old lady. Nobody could remain so indomitable for ever.

Chapter Seven
    In the caravan Anna Plumley wasted no time, equipping herself with a white wraparound overall, a heavy electric torch and a soft pair of house shoes.
    â€˜They won’t have had the electricity cut off,’ Z assured her and received a tight little grin.
    â€˜Dark corners. There are always dark corners. Let’s go in by the front door, which I imagine was in general use.’
    So it was to be a methodical examination. Z considered herself rebuked and went ahead. They began with a walk-through for the visitor to get the general layout, Anna following slowly with both hands clasped behind her, holding the unlit torch. Z felt sure it wasn’t the first time that she’d inspected a disaster area. Neither spoke at first, apart from Z announcing the function of each room as they entered. To begin they turned left from the hall, unlocking the dining room.
    It was much as Z had seen it, except for the grey powdering of chemicals left by the fingerprint experts. The two women halted at the chalk outline of the body with its brownish staining of the floorboards. This area looked smaller to Z than she’d thought it on first shocked sight. Frederick Hoad had lost less blood than an average alley-way stabbing. But then, as Littljohn said, he’d been shot first and the heart stopped instantly. Why then all the unnecessary wounding later? Must they start looking for a sadist?
    The shoe mark was only partial. They’d be lucky ever to identify and match it. There was no more than the toecap of a smooth sole, and not the ridged sort that would more easily pick up foreign matter and scars.
    Had the killer walked over to make sure Hoad was dead? Gloating, or appalled? Or simply to follow up with the knife to make sure? She could almost see him dropping the rifle to kneel beside the body, savagely stabbing at it. If the initial shooting had been defensive, this last act wasn’t. There had been passion behind it. Either hate for the man or the excitement of killing.
    Anna went across to stare into the gun cabinet. ‘Two removed,’ she murmured.

    Z returned from speculation to hard facts. She nodded towards the narrower chalk marks. ‘That’s where they found the shotgun Mr Hoad fired as he was hit.’
    â€˜Which accounts for the state of the china cabinet. It’s put paid to the Royal Doulton.’
    â€˜The second gun, which killed him, could have been a sports rifle. It’s still missing. The single bullet was a .22. Hoad’s shotgun has been bagged as an exhibit.’
    â€˜Next room?’ Mrs Plumley waited as Z relocked the doors behind them and restored the police tape.
    They examined the large study/office which had two executive desks, one at either end. As well as its computer screen, that by the front window held a vase of pink and mauve asters wilting in a cut glass vase, tainting the closed air with decay. Brown, crinkled leaves had dropped on the tooled leather surface. There was opened correspondence in a wire in-tray, addressed to Jennifer Hoad. All of it personal letters, invitations and